The Symbol Is Found in Nature

In geometric terms, the heart shape is known as a cardioid, and forms resembling it can be found throughout the natural world. In fact, one of the most compelling theories about the origin of the heart symbol points to ancient agriculture and the symbolism of plants, rather than human anatomy.

In the ancient city of Cyrene (modern-day Libya), a species of giant fennel known as silphium was so highly valued that it drove the economy of the region. Its uses were wide-ranging: Silphium was a prized seasoning, a powerful medicine, and, most notably, a natural contraceptive. It was so essential to life and love in the ancient world that it was stamped onto Cyrenian coins.

The plant’s seedpod, in particular, bore a strong resemblance to the heart symbol we recognize today — a smooth, symmetrical form tapering to a point. Because silphium was closely associated with love, sexuality, and fertility, some historians believe the shape of its seedpod may have directly influenced the development of the symbolic heart.

Other plants have also echoed the heart’s curves. Ivy leaves, long associated with fidelity and eternal love in Greek and Roman symbolism, display a heartlike silhouette. The fig leaf, tied to sensuality in ancient art and myth, and even water lily leaves, often shaped like rounded hearts, may have subtly reinforced the motif in art and decoration.

It Took on a Romantic Meaning in the Middle Ages

By the Middle Ages, the symbolic heart began to appear more frequently in religious art and literature in Europe, often representing divine or spiritual love. In Christian iconography, saints such as St. Augustine were depicted holding or pointing to flaming hearts, symbolizing their devotion to God. The Sacred Heart of Jesus, which emerged in medieval devotional art, emphasized themes of love, sacrifice, and compassion — establishing the heart as a spiritual symbol.

At the same time, more secular interpretations of the heart were gaining popularity. In illuminated manuscripts from the 13th and 14th centuries, lovers were sometimes shown exchanging hearts — both literally and metaphorically. A notable example appears in the 14th-century French manuscript Roman de la Poire (“Romance of the Pear”), in which a man offers his heart, shaped much like the modern symbol, to his beloved. These early heart illustrations were often red, symmetrical, and stylized — but they didn’t always follow today’s orientation. Some were shown with the point facing upward, while others were more angular or leaflike.

The Printing Press Helped Solidify the Symbol

The invention of the printing press in the 15th century helped standardize and spread the heart symbol across Europe. As printed materials became more widely available, so did visual motifs — and the heart, already associated with courtly love and devotion in art, literature, and music, was a popular choice. Early printers used woodcuts to embellish books and pamphlets with heart shapes in religious texts, emblems, and romantic illustrations. Around the same time, in 1498, Leonardo da Vinci created one of the first anatomically accurate drawings of the human heart — but his scientific rendering had little influence on the romanticized symbol already taking hold in popular culture.

As Valentine’s Day evolved into a romantic holiday in England and France, printers began mass-producing cards and tokens adorned with cupids, flowers, and heart motifs. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the heart was everywhere — on embroidery, porcelain, stationery, and jewelry. In the Victorian era, heart-shaped lockets and lace-trimmed valentines became cherished expressions of sentiment. No longer tied to anatomy or philosophy, the heart symbol fully transformed into a visual shorthand for love and emotional connection — a role it still plays today in greeting cards and text messages around the world.

Greeks and Romans Tossed Grains To Call on the Gods

As civilizations became more organized, these agricultural customs became woven into more formal religious traditions. In ancient Rome, guests often tossed wheat or barley at weddings in honor of Ceres, the goddess of agriculture, fertility, and family. Roman brides sometimes wore crowns or garlands of wheat in their hair, highlighting their expected role in continuing the family line.

Greek ceremonies included similar practices, invoking Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, through offerings of grain. These were not simply quaint traditions — they reflected larger beliefs about the social order, divine favor, and the sacredness of the household. In both cultures, grains were offered not only for luck but also as part of a broader worldview that linked successful marriages with divine blessing and societal stability. A good harvest and a good marriage were seen as intertwined — and both needed the favor of the gods.

Rice Played a Sacred Role in Ancient Asian Ceremonies

While wheat and barley featured prominently in the West, rice took on sacred importance in many Asian cultures. In China, rice has symbolized life, wealth, and harmony with nature for thousands of years. Historically, rice featured prominently in ancestral offerings and seasonal rites, and its association with fertility and family continuity made it a natural part of wedding customs. In some regions, for instance, rice was scattered around newlyweds to bless the union or offered to ancestors to gain their favor for the marriage.

In India, rice has been integral to Hindu wedding rituals for thousands of years. One of the most meaningful customs is Akshata, in which whole grains of rice — often dyed with turmeric or vermilion — are showered on the bride and groom as a symbol of abundance, fertility, and divine favor.

Across Southeast Asia, similar rituals appear, many tied to local fertility goddesses, such as Dewi Sri in Indonesia. Wedding ceremonies often include offerings of rice to spirits or deities to ensure harmony, fertility, and a blessed union. In these cultures, rice is not just food but also spiritual currency, deeply connected to the cycles of life and marriage. 

Rice Was Introduced to Europe Through Trade 

Despite its importance elsewhere, rice was largely unfamiliar in Europe until it began arriving via trade routes from Asia and the Middle East. By the Middle Ages, it had made its way into European markets, thanks to expanding contact with the Islamic world in places such as Spain and Sicily, and increased trade spurred by the Crusades.

At first, rice was considered a luxury item — rare, expensive, and used mostly by the wealthy. But over time, it became more accessible and began appearing in ceremonial contexts, including weddings. Its symbolism — fertility, longevity, and abundance — dovetailed neatly with older European traditions. Long before rice arrived, rural communities used native grains such as wheat, oats, and barley in wedding rites to bless the couple with prosperity and children.

By the 19th century, throwing rice at weddings had become a widespread and beloved tradition in Western cultures. It was a way of honoring ancient fertility symbols with a modern twist, combining imported ingredients with long-held wishes for joy, health, and a flourishing family life.  

How the Rice-Throwing Ritual Has Changed

In recent decades, the tradition of throwing rice has shifted as couples opt for alternatives that are either more environmentally friendly or better suited to specific venues. Today, it’s not uncommon to see guests showering newlyweds with dried flower petals, birdseed, bubbles, or biodegradable confetti. These variations serve the same symbolic purpose — celebrating the beginning of a new life together with joy and good wishes — while also accommodating modern sensibilities.

Some venues discourage the use of rice because of cleanup concerns or the widespread (but incorrect) belief that it harms birds. That myth, which gained traction in the 1980s, claimed that birds would eat the rice, which would swell in their stomachs and cause injury or death. However, wildlife experts and ornithologists have since debunked that idea. Birds can digest uncooked rice just fine — after all, it’s a staple food for many wild species around the world.

While fewer couples may use rice today, the impulse behind the tradition endures. Whether it’s a cloud of bubbles or a scatter of petals, these celebratory send-offs are a continuation of an ancient wish: that the couple’s new life will be fruitful, joyful, and blessed with abundance.

A Sign of Peace?

Perhaps the most familiar explanation for the handshake is that it began as a way of proving peaceful intentions. By extending an empty right hand — the one most people used to wield a sword or spear — strangers demonstrated that they carried no weapon. Some versions of the theory even suggest that the up-and-down motion evolved in order to shake loose any hidden dagger concealed in a sleeve.

It’s a compelling story, but historians caution that there’s little direct evidence proving this was the handshake’s original purpose. Instead, the gesture likely accumulated different meanings over time. A clasped hand might signify trust, confirm an oath, or mark an agreement. As historian Walter Burkert has observed, a promise spoken aloud became more meaningful when reinforced by the physical act of grasping another person’s hand.

The preference for the right hand probably also reflected practical and cultural traditions. Since most people are and have been right-handed, offering the right hand naturally placed each person’s dominant hand in full view. Religious customs likewise reinforced the convention. In both Christianity and Islam, the right hand has traditionally carried positive symbolic associations; Islamic etiquette in particular reserves the right hand for respectful interactions such as eating and greeting others, while the left is considered unclean.

The Modern Greeting

Although ancient civilizations clasped hands, many historians believe the handshake didn’t become an everyday greeting until much later.

During the Middle Ages, elaborate bows, curtsies, and hat-tipping were often the preferred ways to acknowledge someone, especially in Europe’s highly stratified societies. Greetings reinforced social rank as much as goodwill.

The handshake reemerged in the 17th century thanks in part to two very different groups. One was the Society of Friends, better known as the Quakers. Rejecting social hierarchies, Quakers refused to bow before nobles or other supposed social superiors. Instead, they greeted everyone — men and women alike — with the same simple handshake, reflecting their belief that all people were equal before God.

The other champions of the handshake were merchants. As trade expanded across Europe and North America, a quick, mutual handclasp proved a practical way to establish goodwill between business partners from different regions, religions, and backgrounds. Eventually, the gesture spread beyond commerce into everyday social life.

By the Victorian era, shaking hands had become common enough that etiquette manuals devoted entire sections to doing it properly. Gentlemen were advised to keep their hands cool and dry, to remove their gloves first, not to squeeze too hard, and never to continue holding someone’s hand longer than necessary. One 1877 guide warned that anyone who “too violently shakes” another person’s hand should not be given a second opportunity.

An Unshakable Tradition

Despite its long history, the handshake has never been universal. Many cultures developed different greeting rituals. In China, a traditional greeting involves pressing one hand over a loosely closed fist. Across the Indian subcontinent, the ancient namaste gesture conveys respect by pressing the palms together and bowing forward slightly.

Meanwhile, disease outbreaks have repeatedly caused people to rethink the handshake custom. During Philadelphia’s devastating yellow fever epidemic of 1793, observers noted that acquaintances no longer shook hands, instead acknowledging one another with cautious nods. Similar advice resurfaced during the influenza pandemic of 1918, when people were urged to avoid unnecessary physical contact. More than a century later, COVID-19 once again prompted many people to swap handshakes for elbow bumps or waves.

Each time, some commentators predicted the handshake’s demise. Yet the custom has repeatedly returned, adapting to changing ideas about health, etiquette, and social equality.

Perhaps that’s the real secret behind its longevity. The handshake has endured not because it has always meant the same thing, but because every generation has found reasons to keep extending its hand.

How the Roles Developed

The wedding attendants we recognize today developed primarily from European wedding traditions, although many cultures around the world have long included attendants or ceremonial helpers in marriage celebrations. In medieval and early modern Europe, marriage ceremonies often involved relatives, household members, and other participants who helped support the proceedings.

The terms “bridesmaid” and “groomsman” appeared later in English — “bridesmaid” in the 16th century and “groomsman” in the 17th century — and the responsibilities of these roles varied depending on the time period, culture, and social status of the couple. Wealthy families often held elaborate weddings requiring many people to assist with clothing, ceremonies, and celebrations, while smaller communities relied on close friends and relatives for practical help and support.

Over time, attendants became less focused on practical assistance and more closely associated with friendship, loyalty, and emotional support. Certain attendants also took on more prominent roles. The title “maid of honor” originally referred to an unmarried female attendant at a royal court, particularly one who served a queen or princess. By the 19th century, it was also used for the bride’s principal attendant. If that attendant was married, she was traditionally known as the matron of honor. 

The groom’s chief attendant was historically known as a groomsman. The term “best man” emerged in the early 19th century, with Scottish origins, and eventually became the more common title. Although the names developed separately, both roles reflect the long-standing tradition of choosing close companions to support the bride and groom during marriage ceremonies.

The Queen Victoria Effect

The Victorian era played an important role in shaping the wedding traditions familiar today. During the 19th century, weddings became increasingly influenced by ideas of romance, family, social status, and public presentation. The rise of newspapers, illustrations, and mass-produced images allowed royal weddings and fashionable ceremonies to reach a much wider audience than ever before.

Queen Victoria’s 1840 wedding to Prince Albert became one of the most influential examples. While bridesmaids, groomsmen, and other wedding attendants existed long before her marriage, Victoria’s highly publicized ceremony helped popularize a more formal and carefully coordinated approach to weddings. Her white wedding dress became especially influential, and the visual presentation of the ceremony — including the role of attendants surrounding the bride and groom — helped shape public expectations of what a wedding should look like.

Victorian weddings emphasized symbolism and appearance, transforming attendants from primarily practical helpers into important representatives of friendship, family, and social connection. The wedding party became not only a group of people assisting with the ceremony, but also a visible expression of the couple’s closest relationships — a role that continues in modern weddings.

Fact or Folklore?

Like many wedding traditions, the history of bridesmaids and groomsmen blends documented customs with centuries of folklore — which means that some of the most familiar stories about their origins are romantic, dramatic, and difficult to prove.

One popular legend claims that bridesmaids dressed similarly to the bride to confuse evil spirits or people who wished her harm. This idea likely grew from ancient and medieval beliefs about protecting the bride from bad luck or supernatural forces, but historians have found little evidence that it explains the origin of the bridesmaid as a formal wedding role.

A similar legend suggests that groomsmen were originally warriors who defended the groom, protected the bride from angry relatives, or even helped carry her away if her family opposed the marriage. While practices such as bride capture existed in some societies, there is little historical evidence that the modern role of the groomsman developed from these traditions. Instead, the story appears to have grown from later interpretations of historical marriage customs rather than documented evidence.

The historical record points to a simpler explanation. In societies ranging from ancient Rome to Victorian Britain, marriage was a public event that involved families, witnesses, and communities. Wedding attendants helped support the ceremony, represented important social relationships, and reinforced the significance of the union. The size and formality of the wedding party varied by culture and social status — from the required witnesses at Roman ceremonies to the elaborate bridal parties of the Victorian era — but the underlying idea remained the same.

The legends surrounding bridesmaids and groomsmen continue to endure because they add mystery and romance to wedding traditions. But the documented history is perhaps just as meaningful — for centuries, couples have chosen the people they trust most to stand beside them as they begin married life.

Bob Dylan at the Bitter End

Today, the Bitter End calls itself the oldest rock ’n’ roll club in New York City, and it was certainly an early staple of Greenwich Village’s music scene. Opened in 1961 by future Hollywood film producer Fred Weintraub, the unassuming Bleecker Street coffeehouse quickly gained a reputation for showcasing new talent. One of the earliest acts to play the Bitter End was a then-unknown trio called Peter, Paul, and Mary. In late 1961, the club placed ads in The New York Times urging people to catch the group before they outgrew the intimate room. By January 1962, Peter, Paul, and Mary had signed a record deal, and later that year, they used the club’s signature exposed brick walls as the backdrop for their debut album cover.

When Dylan arrived in the Village from Minnesota in early 1961, he became one of the up-and-coming performers who graced the Bitter End’s stage in its early years. Though he began as one of many young folk singers on the scene, Dylan quickly emerged as the voice of a generation; his songwriting helped to define the 1960s folk revival and position Greenwich Village as the center of a cultural shift. Later, in the 1970s, Dylan returned to the Bitter End not just as a performer but as a fan, dropping by to watch others play or to shoot pool with peers such as Kris Kristofferson. The club briefly changed its name to the Other End under new owner Paul Colby in the 1970s and ’80s, but eventually returned to its original moniker. It remains the Bitter End to this day.

Allen Ginsberg Protests Vietnam

Greenwich Village was a breeding ground for the countercultural energy of the 1960s. Though the neighborhood had been home to artists and freethinkers for much of the 20th century, by the mid-1960s, the folk revival was in full swing, and musicians such as Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, and Phil Ochs were increasingly vocal in the anti-war movement. In March 1966, Vietnam War protests swelled across the country; tens of thousands of people marched on Fifth Avenue in New York City in what was then the largest anti-war demonstration to date. 

More than 20,000 protesters were joined by some of Greenwich Village’s leading counterculture figureheads. In this photo, legendary Beat poet and vocal Vietnam War critic Allen Ginsberg is pictured in an Uncle Sam hat. He’s joined by members of the underground psychedelic folk rock group the Fugs. Formed by poets Ed Sanders and Tuli Kupferberg, the Fugs and their irreverent critiques of mainstream American culture made them a cult favorite in the 1960s Village scene where they frequented live clubs such as Cafe Wha?.

Washington Square Park

Even before the folk revival hit full swing, Washington Square Park was already a sanctuary for musicians and music lovers alike. Throughout the 1950s, people armed with guitars, banjos, bongos, and mandolins gathered every Sunday to sing and share folk, blues, and more music.

But in the spring of 1961, NYC Parks Commissioner Newbold Morris began enforcing a city law requiring permits for musical performances in the park. While the crackdown was said to be supported by nearby residents concerned about crowds, many suspected that authorities wanted to silence the voices of a growing youth movement. 

On Sunday, April 9, 1961, musicians gathered in the park even though permits had been denied. The protest was led by Izzy Young, a pillar in the music scene as the owner of Greenwich Village’s iconic Folklore Center. Police responded with force and arrests in a clash that became known as the Beatnik Riot. That Sunday marked a cultural turning point: a new generation pushing back against authority. The city eventually relented, and throughout the rest of the decade, Washington Square Park remained a hub for protest, performance, and political expression.

Bohemian Style 

Bohemianism took hold in New York long before the Beat Generation or hippie countercultures. In the mid-19th century, Greenwich Village was home to writers such as Henry Clapp Jr., known as the “King of Bohemia” and credited with introducing the Parisian ideal of bohemianism — an artistic and non-materialistic lifestyle — to the American literary scene. A century later, the Village attracted a new wave of dreamers. Through the 1950s, the literary rebels known as the Beats inspired a subsequent beatnik subculture, and in the 1960s, hippies adapted similar ideals into a movement centered on personal freedom and social justice. Their shared bohemian sensibilities helped keep the Village a haven for free spirits and artistic freedom.

The fashion seen around the Village in the 1960s was both eclectic and deliberate, as well as comfortable and carefree. This 1967 snapshot captures the vibe: A young woman in a gingham dress and beads has her face painted by a fellow hippie in a bold-patterned headband and shirt, as both of them audition as extras for the Sidney Poitier film For Love of Ivy. By the end of the 1960s, the bohemian spirit that shaped Greenwich Village had spread far beyond it, reaching its peak just 100 miles upstate at the Woodstock Music Festival, where upwards of 500,000 people gathered in the name of peace, love, and music.