Clorissa, a luminous cousin to Clarissa with a playful wink at the flower-goddess Chloris, springs from Latin “clarus” (“bright, clear”) while borrowing a dash of Greek greenery; in melody-rich Italian she sounds like kloh-REE-sah, while English speakers soften her to kluh-RIS-uh. The name drifts through time like a silk ribbon across a sunset piazza—popping onto U.S. charts only in delicate bursts from the 1960s to the mid-2000s—so each little Clorissa is as rare as a violet in December. She carries the gleam of Renaissance frescoes, the cadence of a Vivaldi violin, and just enough modern sparkle to fit on a kindergarten cubby. Parents who choose her often confess they love Clarissa but secretly wish she had spent a semester abroad in Florence, returning with stories and a sun-kissed smile. With its blend of clarity and color, Clorissa promises a daughter who will bloom brilliantly while keeping her feet—stylishly shod in Italian leather, of course—firmly on the ground.