Agatha Christie was the instigator. More specifically, it was the TV adaptation of Triangle at Rhodes, a Hercule Poirot mystery that combined the aspirational attractions of leisure on the Mediterranean, intrigue under parasols, and murder in evening dress. The center of the titular love triangle, when exhausted from lounging too long under hats too enormous, asks the waiter or admirer at hand to be a lamb and fetch her a pink gin. One night, her devoted husband waltzes across the hotel parquet with said cocktail. She downs it, she gasps, she clutches her bejeweled turban with a begloved hand—and voila, murder most foul.