I have the most difficult name in the world. Really! No really. This was made evident to me when Tiffany & Co. customer service told me my name was a spelling mistake on my customer invoice.
I was christened Pria-Rose after my grandmother, who is called Margaret Rose. The choice was also influenced by both the names Pia, which means pious in Latin, and Priya which means beloved in Sanskrit. Most of my life has been spent reaffirming that Pria-Rose is just as easy to say as Jessica, Francesca, Mary-Anne, Victoria, Rebecca, Sophia, and so on.
Futile attempts. People assure me that my name is beautiful, charming, exquisite and yet they proceed to call me Pria immediately after. Strewth!
And while both Pria and Priya are beautiful names, they are only one half of me. The same goes for Rose, or Rosie which also feels superbly taken. Rosie’s are found left right and centre. Beautiful, yet, it completely obliterates the first half of my name and carries none of the originality. Only my full name, Pria-Rose, would suffice. A lifelong job of being that person who corrects people. Golly, what a bind!
My old school friend gave me the nickname Posie which encompasses both halves of my double barrels. Pria-Rose together equals Pose. (Add an +ie for the Nancy Meyers wholesome effect) and voilà! Posies are flowers. We all know the nursery rhyme about children dancing around flowers:
Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
A pocket full of Posies
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down!
Ever since the first day I set foot in Stowe House in 2006, I have preferred Posie which was be’Stowe’d upon me by a senior prefect and existing friend called Imogen. As school girls, we were bright and sparky, determined and eager to do well and always willing to have a go. A testament to my short time there as well as my nickname, which I heavily associate with these characteristics and cherished memories.
Ever since the first day I visited Stowe House in 2006, I have preferred Posie which was be’Stowe’d upon me by a prefect, and existing friend, called Imogen. As girls, we were bright and sparky, determined and eager to do well and always willing to have a go. A testament to my nickname and memories, before we went to entirely different schools.
On every occasion in which I have been called Posie, an electrifying and heart-warming joy has bubbled over inside of me. I couldn’t care a fig about its absurdity. If anything, the ridiculousness of Posie adds to the appeal – nothing pleases me more than having a simple, silly name. What a human right it is, to be called one’s name. And failing that, one should be called whatsoever they like. I have felt more like a Posie, Pippi, or Polly, than a Pria…
I no longer impose, upon loved ones and strangers alike, the endless naming corrections.And I henceforth relinquish my title as Superintendent Chief Constable of The Name Police. Resignation signed, Posie.
It’s not lost on me what a first world problem this is, and that the luxury of being afforded two names lends a duality and flexibility to play with.
Furthermore, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to playing on the James Bond introduction syntax, “Rose. Pria-Rose.” I do actually like my martinis shaken, very dirty, very dry, but mostly vespas. The Bond girl I am enjoys the chic duality of Pria-Rose. The country girl I am enjoys the modest simplicity of Posie. No part of me enjoys being called Pria. I always catch myself hoping to hear a ‘Rose’ uttered quickly after ‘Pria’ is said – relieved when it is, devastated when it isn’t.
Anyone who knows me knows through and through I am a country girl from a humble farming family. Always have been & likely always will be.
The Posie phenomenon has been silently growing for nearly twenty years. If you’re new to this journey or a veteran, please feel free to call me Posie, and know that in my heart, the child in me dances around the flowers, much like the nursery rhyme.
Posie Lombardi Rodriguez 