The Lunchtime Check: Wearing Vintage Hair Accessories Through the Day
The clock on the mantelpiece has just struck half past twelve. In a 1950s typing pool, a young woman reaches up to check her tortoiseshell side comb before hurrying to the canteen. In a 1920s tearoom, a flapper adjusts her mother-of-pearl hair slide between sips of consommé. The phrase “lunch time already” carries a particular lightness — a moment of release, a chance to smooth a stray strand, to touch the familiar edge of a beloved accessory. For the vintage hair accessory collector in Britain, the midday break is not merely a pause for food; it is an opportunity to honour the small, beautiful objects that once accompanied ordinary women through their daily routines.
These accessories were never intended for grand occasions alone. The most cherished pieces — a celluloid barrette from the 1930s, a velvet bow clip from the 1940s, a Lucite hair comb from the 1960s — were worn to work, to church, to the corner shop. They were touched, adjusted, and admired in private moments. Understanding how to wear and care for them today means stepping into that same rhythm: letting the accessory become part of a living day, not a museum piece.
The Midday Ritual: A History of Adjusting Hair in Public
In Britain, the practice of tidying one’s hair in public has long been governed by subtle codes of propriety. A woman in the 1920s might remove her hat at the lunch table and gently press the tortoiseshell comb back into her bob. By the 1950s, a quick trip to the ladies’ powder room allowed for a discreet check of the French clip holding a chignon. These gestures were not vanity; they were maintenance, a small act of care for an accessory that held a hairstyle together through a morning of typing, serving, or shopping.
The materials themselves dictated how often adjustment was needed. Celluloid and early plastics could warp in heat, so a comb worn near a kitchen stove or a radiator might loosen. Horn and bone responded to humidity, swelling slightly in damp British weather. A woman who wore a horn comb knew to give it a gentle push back into place after the morning rain. This tactile relationship between wearer and object is something we can reclaim today. When you slide a vintage barrette back into position at your desk, you are performing a small act of continuity with the past.
Practical Tip: The Lunchtime Check
If you are wearing a vintage hair accessory for a full day, set a mental reminder around midday to check its fit. Temperature changes, movement, and even the natural oils from your hair can cause a clip or comb to shift slightly. A quick visit to the restroom or a quiet corner allows you to reset the piece without fuss. Carry a soft cloth in your bag to wipe the metal parts of a clip — perspiration and hand creams can dull silver or gold plate over time.
Which Accessories Thrive in the Middle of the Day?
Not every vintage piece is suited to a full day of wear. Delicate Edwardian hairpins with paste stones, for example, were designed for evening events and may not survive a busy afternoon. The most practical accessories for daytime — and the ones most often found in British charity shops and flea markets — fall into three categories:
- Side combs and hair slides (1920s–1940s): Made from celluloid, horn, or early plastic, these pieces grip firmly and can be repositioned easily. Look for examples with intact teeth; a missing tooth weakens the hold.
- French clips and barrettes (1950s–1960s): Metal-backed clips with enamel or rhinestone decoration. The spring mechanism should snap cleanly. A sluggish spring can be gently tightened with small pliers, but test on a piece of fabric first to avoid scratching the metal.
- Velvet and grosgrain ribbon bows (1940s–1950s): Often attached to a metal alligator clip. These are lightweight and comfortable for all-day wear. The ribbon may show wear at the fold points; a careful press with a cool iron (through a cloth) can restore it.
If you are new to wearing vintage hair accessories during your working day, start with a simple side comb. It requires no mirror to adjust — just a touch to the temple confirms it is still in place. This ease of use is exactly why these combs were so popular among British office workers in the 1930s and 1940s.
Pairing Classic Accessories with a Modern Lunchtime Wardrobe
The genius of vintage hair accessories is their ability to bridge decades. A 1950s tortoiseshell comb looks entirely natural in a modern low bun worn with a cashmere jumper and tailored trousers. A 1940s velvet bow clip adds a soft note to a simple linen dress. The key is to let the accessory sit quietly in the outfit, not to force it into a costume.
Consider the colour palette of your midday wardrobe. British vintage accessories often feature muted tones — amber, dark green, navy, and cream — that complement the neutral and earth tones common in modern capsule wardrobes. A horn comb with warm brown streaks works beautifully with oatmeal, camel, and forest green. A silver-toned French clip with clear rhinestones pairs with anything from a white blouse to a charcoal sweater.
A Practical Afternoon Test
Before committing to a full day with a vintage accessory, test it for an hour during lunch. Walk to a café, sit down, eat, and then check whether the piece has stayed in place. This short trial reveals whether the grip is sufficient for your hair type and whether the weight of the accessory causes any discomfort. Fine hair may need a comb with finer, closely spaced teeth; thick hair benefits from a deeper comb or a clip with a strong spring.
Caring for Your Accessories Between Morning and Evening
A vintage accessory that endures a full day deserves a small midday care ritual. The simplest practice is to keep a soft pouch in your handbag. If you remove your clip or comb during lunch — perhaps to let your hair down for a moment — place it in the pouch rather than on a table or in a pocket where it can be scratched by keys or coins.
For metal-backed clips, avoid contact with hand sanitiser and perfumes. The alcohol in these products can lift gold plating and discolour enamel. If you do use hand sanitiser, let it dry completely before touching your hair accessory. The same caution applies to hairspray: if you use it in the morning, wait a full minute before inserting the accessory, so the spray does not settle on the metal or plastic surface.
Horn and tortoiseshell (both natural and celluloid imitations) benefit from occasional conditioning with a tiny amount of natural oil — a single drop of jojoba oil on a soft cloth, rubbed gently into the surface, then wiped clean. This prevents drying and cracking, especially in centrally heated offices during British winters. Do this at home, not during lunch, but the awareness of it will inform how you handle the piece midday.
The Quiet Joy of a Lunchtime Find
For the collector, lunchtime can also be a hunting hour. Charity shops in British town centres often restock in the late morning, and a quick browse between twelve and one can yield unexpected treasures. A worn velvet bow with a missing clip can be re-backed with a modern alligator clip from a haberdashery. A celluloid comb with a crack can be displayed in a small stand rather than worn. The pleasure is in the looking, the noticing of a detail — a hand-painted flower, a subtle Art Deco line — that someone else walked past.
If you are searching for a specific piece, keep a small notebook or a note on your phone with the measurements and material you need. A 1940s side comb, for example, typically measures between 7 and 10 centimetres in length. Knowing this saves time and prevents buying a comb that is too large for your hair or your intended style. The December 2016 Archive: Vintage Hair Accessories includes a useful overview of standard comb sizes from the mid-century, which can guide your hunt.
An Afternoon in the Life of a Vintage Accessory
Let us imagine a single object: a 1950s French clip in silver plate with a row of small clear rhinestones. It was made in Birmingham, stamped with a tiny hallmark on the back. At nine in the morning, it holds a low twist at the nape of the neck. By twelve thirty, the wearer feels it loosen slightly as she walks to the sandwich shop. She reaches up, presses it firmly back into place, and continues. At three, she removes it for a meeting, slipping it into the soft pouch in her bag. At five, she pins it back in for the journey home. The clip has been touched four times, adjusted twice, and stored once. That is a good day for a vintage accessory — a day of use, not of storage.
This rhythm is the heart of wearing vintage. The accessory is not a decoration to be admired in a glass case; it is a tool for living, a small piece of history that asks only to be handled with attention. The next time you glance at the clock and think “lunch time already,” let it be a reminder to check your comb, to touch the cool metal of your clip, and to enjoy the quiet connection between your midday pause and the countless women who did the same, decades ago.