Evelyn Nesbit was the toast of Gilded Age America. One couldn’t open a magazine or walk into a store without seeing the model’s peaches-and-cream complexion on everything from print advertisements to promotional calendars. Gentlemen who opened packages of cigarettes saw Evelyn’s face on tobacco cards, while women primped themselves with hand mirrors displaying the teenager’s winsome gaze. From the cover of Vanity Fair to the sheet music for a song called “Sprinkle Me With Kisses,” Nesbit seemed to be in every shop, home, and entertainment venue in America.

Her popularity wasn’t surprising, as Nesbit was a sight to behold. Photos from her teenage years show the girl with dark, wavy hair, often piled into an elegant pompadour. Nesbit’s mouth formed a perfect heart-shaped pout, and a corset cinched her waist to create an impeccable hourglass figure. So flawless were her features, so alluring her aura, that Nesbit served as one of the models for the Gibson Girl, artist Charles Dana Gibson’s illustration of the epitome of American womanhood.

Yet despite the perfection of her outer appearance, Evelyn Nesbit led a personal life few would envy. Her dalliance with renowned architect Stanford White (a womanizer 31 years her senior) and her subsequent marriage to a sociopath named Harry Thaw led to a 1906 murder trial that rocked New York society—and the nation. In the ensuing media frenzy, Nesbit watched as her private life become fodder for every reporter who, despite the era’s genteel manners, dished out the tawdry details—Sex! Secrets! A Red Velvet Swing!—that came to light during the so-called “Trial of the Century.”

The fiery nature of the New York press was a far cry from Tarentum, Pennsylvania, a Pittsburgh suburb where Florence Evelyn Nesbit was born on Christmas Day 1884 (or 1886, depending on the source). Young Florence (as she was then known) had a happy childhood, but came to know pain early in life when her father died when she was 11 years old.

After a few years of financial struggle, Nesbit’s family—consisting of her mother and younger brother—moved to Philadelphia, where each worked in a department store to make ends meet. It was there, at Philadelphia’s famed Wanamaker’s, that 14-year-old Nesbit’s beauty attracted the attention of an artist, who paid her a dollar to pose for a portrait. Soon other local artists commissioned Nesbit to serve as their muse. The teenager enjoyed the attention and, a few years later, became even better known when the family moved to New York City.

It was in the Big Apple where Nesbit really thrived. Respected artists like James Carroll Beckwith painted her portrait, while magazines like Harper’s Bazaar featured her on their covers. Nesbit appeared in calendars for Coca-Cola and Prudential Life Insurance, and in fashion shots taken by photographer Joel Feder. In what surely would have been Nesbit’s most famous endeavor had future events not played out the way they did, artist Charles Dana Gibson snagged her services as a model for his “Gibson Girl.” The era’s Nesbit mania was so all-encompassing that it seemed as though a person couldn’t go a day without seeing her seductive eyes peering out from the printed page.

By 1901, Nesbit had grown tired of modeling. With an eye toward the stage, she secured a spot in the chorus of a popular Broadway play, Floradora. It was at this point that Florence Nesbit became known by her middle name, Evelyn. Nesbit’s role in Floradora was minor, but led to a featured role in a play called The Wild Rose. For any other girl with Evelyn’s ambitions, this would be an auspicious start to a flourishing career, but in Evelyn’s case, the role played a small part in the deadly events to come.

Each of the 40 times Harry Kendall Thaw watched The Wild Rose on Broadway, his eyes lighted on Nesbit, who played the Gypsy girl Vashti. Thaw was a beady-eyed, baby-faced heir to a coal and railroad fortune and, like Nesbit, hailed from Pittsburgh. The 31-year-old playboy was 13 years older than the object of his affection, but despite—or maybe because of—this age difference, he was infatuated. As Nesbit danced across the stage in her layered skirts and shoulder-baring blouse, Thaw knew he had to meet her. At first, Nesbit wasn’t enamored of Thaw, but he was persistent and attentive. He also lavished Nesbit with the finest gifts his multi-million-dollar fortune could buy. Despite Nesbit’s initial misgivings, the two eventually began a tentative courtship.

However, there was a problem. While starring in Floradora in 1901, Evelyn had met Stanford White, one of New York City’s most prominent architects. The burly, mustachioed 47-year-old, a principal in the firm of McKim, Mead, & White, had designed Washington Square Arch, the Bowery Savings Bank, and several other New York landmarks. He had also designed the second version of Madison Square Garden, an indoor arena that hosted a variety of entertainment and sporting events. At the time of their meeting, Nesbit was just 16 (or 14, depending on which of her two stated birthdates is correct), but this wasn’t a problem for White, who was known to seduce teenaged girls. He set his sights on Evelyn and one night, after White plied her with champagne, she lost her virginity to him in the famed “Mirror Room” of his opulent mansion.

Though White served as a de facto benefactor of the Nesbit family, his and Evelyn’s relationship, such as it was, never became serious. Consequently, when Harry Thaw suggested that Nesbit and her mother accompany him to Europe, they accepted. After a whirlwind tour during which Thaw attempted to distance Evelyn from her mother by creating tension between the two of them, Mrs. Nesbit headed back to the States early, leaving her daughter alone with their host. Throughout the remainder of the trip, Thaw repeatedly proposed marriage, but Evelyn turned him down. Ultimately, she told him about her dalliance with White. Thaw, who was a drug addict and mentally ill, became enraged. He was livid at what he saw as White’s exploitation of Evelyn, but because White wasn’t available for a confrontation, Thaw took out his fury on Nesbit, holding her captive and assaulting her in an Austrian castle for two weeks before returning with her to the United States.

Back home, a contrite Thaw promised to reform. Despite Thaw’s abusive treatment of her, Evelyn— realizing that her marriage prospects would be limited if the relationship with White became public—finally accepted Thaw’s proposal. The couple wed in 1905 and lived in Pittsburgh. Yet despite the fact that Thaw had won the object of affection, his obsession with—and hatred for—Stanford White only grew, fueled by Thaw’s belief that White was a “beast” who deserved punishment for his exploitation of the new Mrs. Evelyn Thaw.

That hatred came to a head on June 25, 1906, a steamy day in New York City. Harry Thaw and his young wife were spending time in the Big Apple before a European vacation, so Thaw made plans for himself, Evelyn, and two acquaintances to attend a play, Mam’zelle Champagne, in the rooftop theater of Madison Square Garden. It was an event that Stanford White would be attending. Though the evening was warm, Thaw wore an overcoat, which he would not remove. The reason for this became apparent when, toward the end of the show, Thaw approached White’s table, withdrew a pistol from beneath his coat, and fired three shots into the architect, who died instantly. At first, spectators thought they were witnessing part of the show, but the grim reality soon dawned on them and Thaw was arrested.

As news of the crime spread, the same papers that had celebrated Evelyn Nesbit’s beauty and virtue began luxuriating in lurid details about her affair with White. Ultimately, the press portrayed her as a victim of White’s predation, but this fact didn’t mitigate the mortifying effect of having every aspect of her dalliance published for the world to see. Evelyn became known as the “Girl in the Red Velvet Swing” (owing to the fact that White’s mansion contained just such a conveyance, on which he entertained female visitors), and she secluded herself to avoid scrutiny. Surprisingly, her husband fared better in the media glare—many reporters celebrated what they saw as a chivalrous act meant to protect his wife’s honor.

As Thaw headed toward trial six months after the murder, his family secured the finest attorneys and witnesses money could buy. A defense was established—temporary insanity. To avoid embarrassing Thaw’s family by bringing up details of their son’s mental instability and drug use, Thaw’s defense called to the stand a parade of doctors who testified that Thaw’s action was the result of a momentary loss of reason, not a chronic state of insanity. Evelyn also took the stand in support of her husband, relating details of her affair with White (and, some said, getting paid handsomely by the Thaw family for her testimony). The combined effect of this evidence wasn’t enough to sway jurors one way or another, as seven of them voted “guilty” and five voted “not guilty.” In 1908, a second trial was held, during which Thaw was found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was sent to Matteawan State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, about sixty miles north of New York City, to serve a life sentence. Thaw was released in 1915 after securing a new trial and being found not guilty of the crime for which he had been incarcerated. Evelyn divorced him that same year, and Thaw died in February 1947 at the age of 76.

Evelyn’s post-trial life included a surprising new occupation: mother. Her son, Russell, had been born in 1910, and though Evelyn said she had conceived the boy during a conjugal visit with her husband, Thaw denied that he was the father. In the ensuing years, Nesbit married and divorced again, dabbled in show business, and ultimately died in January 1967 at the age of 82.