Rembrandt. A Lady and Gentleman in Black, 1633.
The poor, dear, sweet, naive soul asked me offhandedly why the pilgrims of American Thanksgiving kitsch wore black. Poor, poor man. I don't think I drew breath for an hour in my outpouring. I'd been waiting my whole life for just such an intersectional question, and no one ever asks. I started with Joachim of Fiore, not to jump too quickly to the Spanish Marches. But really, the pornocracy of the 900s. Or a history of analine dyes!...