Modish

My sister-in-law lived through the poverty of her modish Western religion.

My neighbours are always pushing their modish Western religion.

They are still fighting their modish Western religion.

According to the eschatology of your modish religion, this world would end soon. My Auntie Modie and Uncle Lex waited and waited, but they passed away without witnessing the end of this world. The same was with my father and grandmother who both had the same religion. Are you sure that your generation is so privileged to see the end? Why would you have children? Your religion is not long-view Oriental.

Nothing could well resemble less a typical English street than the interminable avenue, rich in incongruities, through which our two travelers advanced—looking out on each side of them at the comfortable animation of the sidewalks, the high-colored, heterogeneous architecture, the huge white marble facades glittering in the strong, crude light, and bedizened with gilded lettering, the multifarious awnings, banners, and streamers, the extraordinary number of omnibuses, horsecars, and other democratic vehicles, the vendors of cooling fluids, the white trousers and big straw hats of the policemen, the tripping gait of the modish young persons on the pavement, the general brightness, newness, juvenility, both of people and things.

As we crossed Blackwell's Island a limousine passed us, driven by a white chauffeur, in which sat three modish negroes, two bucks and a girl.

The huge square box, parquet-floored and high-ceilinged, had been arranged to display a suite of bedroom furniture designed and made in the halcyon days of the last quarter of the nineteenth century, when modish taste was just due to go clean out of fashion for the best part of the next hundred years.