As a child of the 80s, there weren’t too many other Charlottes in my class. We had the Kieras, the Jodis, and the Alishas but I never met anyone else who shared my name unless we’re talking about the infamous spider or a basketball team from North Carolina.
Believe it or not, I was the subject of intense scrutiny and ridicule in middle school by a boy with the name Columbus. Sure, I can laugh now, but it wasn’t so funny then and it really made me question what in the hell my parents were thinking (or drinking) when they gave me my name. Turns out, I was actually named after my uncle Charlie who passed shortly before I was born (in Jewish tradition, the next born takes on the namesake of the recently departed). Also, my mother’s favorite author was Charlotte Bronte, so it seemed fitting.
When Sex and the City came along, the prude/uptight art dealer was, of course, named Charlotte. All of a sudden, the name popped up everywhere and became as popular as Madison, Chelsea, and Brooklyn (is it still a thing to name kids after NYC neighborhoods/streets?).
I wasn’t surprised to hear that Charlotte was a contender for the new British princess and now that it’s official, I thought I’d write up a little something before you all go and name your children Charlotte, too.
- Your child may go through much of her life feeling like an old woman. Let’s be frank—I’ve grown to love my name and I think it suits me now, but growing up, I felt like someone’s nana. Or a librarian (not that there’s anything wrong with librarians, of course).
- People will try and spell your name with an “S.” Stop it. It’s CHARLOTTE, not Sharlet (yes, I’ve seen this spelling before) or Sharlotte (shudder).
- Your child may be called a harlot. For no other reason than the fact that the words rhyme and that’s good enough on the school playground.
Also, way to set the bar really friggin’ high on post birth baby pictures, Kate. Tell us the truth—you really delivered the baby a week ago, right?