Sylvia

Rhea Silvia nursed Romulus and Remus in Roman myth, her woodland name older than the city her sons would found. The Latin silva means forest — not the decorative forest of fairy tales but the actual old growth, full of shade and old silence. The name passed through medieval saints and Renaissance painters before arriving in the twentieth century with a poet attached who made it unforgettable.

Sylvia Plath's work made the name electric and slightly dangerous in the best way — the sound of an intelligence that wouldn't be quieted. The name peaked in American use in the 1930s, receded into the background for half a century, and now at rank 361 it is returning, part of the same quiet revival as Vivienne and Margot, carried by parents who are reaching a generation past their own mothers. It has the particular pleasure of a name that is vintage without being costume.

Two syllables, the stress falling front and firm: SIL-vee-uh in expanded form, SIL-vyuh in everyday speech. It pairs naturally with the similarly classical Laura or the softer Elodie from the sibling cluster, and nicknames are abundant — Syl, Silvy, Vy. The woman named Sylvia tends to be the one who knows exactly what she thinks and who gives it to you without the softening cushion of too many qualifiers.