I've always liked unusual names. When people were making fun of Gwyneth Paltrow (right) and Chris Martin for calling their first child Apple, I was disappointed I hadn't thought of it first. So when it came to naming my own daughter, I wasn't going to call her Jane or Emily or, God forbid, Sarah. I wanted her to have her own unique name.
My family is from Wales, so my wife and I decided to give our daughter one of the more, er, distinctive Welsh names (my daughter would prefer if I didn't use her name in this feature, so out of respect for her I won't, but trust me, it's hard-core Welsh). After my daughter was born the mid-wife handed her over to us, and asked us what we were going to call her. I told the midwife the name we'd agreed on, and she looked at me quizzically and said 'I'm sorry, what was that again?' Maybe that should've been a warning.
My daughter is now ten. Whenever she meets someone new she has to repeat her name at least twice and spell it out once before they get it. I can't help wondering if I've condemned her to a lifetime of name-pain? Am I like the father from 'A Boy Named Sue?'
What is it like growing up with an unusual name? To understand this more, I spoke with Madonna Benjamin, an executive producer at Maverick TV about her experiences.
'Madonna isn't really an unusual name in Australia,' she told me. 'There were four girls in my class also called Madonna. It wasn't until I moved to the UK in 1972 when I was 16 that it became unusual, and when the real Madonna became famous it became irritating.'
This is one of the problems with having an unusual name. What if it becomes a brand? How does having a famous namesake affect people's view of your name? I asked Madonna what it's like sharing names with one of the world's most famous women. 'People always think they're being so original, but everyone says the exact same thing. 'You're not the real Madonna' or 'give us a song'.' Finally, does she ever wish her parents had given her a less unique name? “It's useful because it's distinctive and distinctive names are great.”
In our world of Google, having a distinctive name is definitely an advantage. There are not many other Darren Taffinders around. What about those people though who have a common name, but a distinctive spelling?
My friend Aimee Rinehart, a fellow writer and editor, is constantly correcting the misspelling of her name. 'It's a blessing and a curse because I have to spell both my first and last names.' Though, it did make her sensitive to name spellings. 'I'm always checking the names of the people I interview, you wouldn't believe how many Smyths there are who are grateful for me confirming whether they spell their name with an 'i' or a 'y'.'
What about names though that carry with them a cultural baggage? My parents named me after a character from an American sitcom, and Darren was a great name until around the mid-80's when all of sudden it became synonymous with Essex boy racers with personalised Ford Escorts. Not that I'm not the most sensitive person myself, especially as a teen, when my mum told me that my uncle and aunt had decided to call my youngest cousin Roxanne. My response was 'what, like in, 'put on your red light'?' I wasn't invited to the Christening. Some names are damaged beyond repair. I don't think I'll be meeting any Adolfs or a Lolita any time soon.
Even when you pick normal names you have to be careful. My sister and brother-in-law wanted to call their second son George until it was pointed out to them that people might think they were crazed 'Star Wars' fans. Their first son is named Lucas.
So maybe having an unusual name isn't such a big deal. After all, a name, as Madonna said to me as we were finishing up our conversation, 'It's just a noise that someone makes to get you to speak to them.'
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