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Wondery.

May 1852, New York City.

John and his wife Clara are finally attending the most talked about Italian

opera of the season. John shifts in a seat and tries to ignore the sweat

dripping down his neck, soaking his collar. The flannel undergarments he's wearing are

already soaked through. He knew they were taking a gamble when he bought the

tickets. Most theaters shut down over the summer. The buildings just get too hot, but in

May you buy at your own risk. Unfortunately, John lost the bet.

It's an unseasonably warm day outside.

Inside the theater, a house is packed.

There are no windows and heavy velvet curtains line the walls to make it look more opulent.

It is over a hundred degrees.

He wishes he could remove his wool coat, but not only would it be a fashion faux paw, his doctor has told him not to remove layers

in the heat. It's bad for one's organs, as is drinking too much water. Following his doctor's

advice, John has barely had anything to drink all day.

He looks over and sees Clara taking a deep breath of her smelling salts to revive herself

in the stifling heat. He takes the opportunity to wipe the sweat from his

brow with a handkerchief. He hopes Clara doesn't notice. Sweating is unbecoming and gentlemen

...