Victorian Jellies were all the rage throughout nineteenth-century America and Victoria’s British Isles.
Through mid-century, cooks relied on various gelling agents to set up their moulded creations. Two of those articles from the sea–isinglass and Irish moss–are illustrated by means of Victorian-era recipe books and newspaper advertisements.
One (unnamed) high-society New York City hostess started a fad that lasted fifty years…
The Calico Ball. Not only was the style of party highly fashionable, it also ensured help to those who needed it most.
This vintage newspaper article, printed in Washington, D.C. in 1881, speaks frankly of concerns a minister has in the way young people go about courtship. Compared to today’s parents’ and grandparents’ concerns, we might draw parallel (or direct) comparisons. Much has changed, and much stays the same.
Though American Victorian women took to the safety bicycle in droves, newspaper and public notices of the day show that women on bicycles were not widely accepted. A public service announcement from The Woman’s Rescue League proclaimed that women on bicycles were immoral, vulgar, disease-ridden, and unwomanly. Such attitudes didn’t keep women from their bicycles, and with the advent of the new Safety Bicycle, women such as my character, Sophia Sorensen (Sophia’s Leap-Year Courtship), took to cycling and had no interest in forfeiting the exercise and transportation.
When did the term “O.K.” or “okay” find its way into common use in American English? Is it incorrect (and inaccurate) to use “okay” in 19th century fiction? What if it’s spelled “O.K.”? What does O.K. stand for, anyway? I’ve provided numerous historical newspaper articles and snippets showing the etymology and proving one of the spellings (O.K.) is highly accurate in the 19th century, but the other (okay) is not.
