Blog New Habits and a Few Old Ones: A Vintage Hair Accessory Routine

I keep a small tortoiseshell comb on my dressing table. It is not a precious antique—just a 1950s piece with three missing teeth and a faint crack near the spine—but every morning I run it through my hair before choosing a clip or a barrette. That comb is not for styling; it is a ritual. It reminds me to slow down, to handle my vintage accessories with the same care I would give a piece of porcelain, and to check that my hair is tangle-free before I pin anything into it. Over the past year, I have added a few new habits to that daily ritual, and I have kept a handful of old ones that have served me well since I started collecting. This is not a list of rules. It is simply what works for me, and I hope some of it might work for you too.

The New Habit: A Weekly Inventory

I used to keep my collection in a jumble—combs in one drawer, slides in another, feathers in a box under the bed. Then I lost a 1930s celluloid bandeau for three months. When I finally found it wedged behind a bookshelf, the surface had developed a faint white bloom from the dry air. That was the moment I started a weekly inventory. Every Sunday evening, I take out each piece, note its condition in a small notebook, and return it to a labelled compartment. The habit takes ten minutes, but it has saved me from more than one heartbreak. I check for loose prongs on combs, rust on metal clips, and fraying on velvet bands. If I catch a problem early, I can address it before it becomes permanent.

The Old Habit: The Two-Hand Rule

My grandmother taught me this when I was twelve and she let me borrow her 1920s jet hair pins for a school play. Always use two hands, she said. One to hold the hair, one to guide the pin. It sounds obvious, but I see so many people in vintage shops yanking at a comb with one hand while the other holds a phone. The strain on old materials—especially early plastics like casein or celluloid—is enormous. A comb that has survived seventy years can snap in a second if you force it. I now apply that rule to every accessory: two hands, steady pressure, never rush.

The New Habit: Seasonal Rotation

Vintage hair accessories are not indestructible. Light, humidity, and temperature all take a toll. I used to keep my favourite pieces out all year, but I noticed that the feathers on a 1940s osprey clip started to curl after a summer of direct sunlight. Now I rotate my collection by season. In winter, I wear heavier metal slides and velvet bands; in spring and summer, I reach for lighter tortoiseshell combs and woven straw pieces. The rest go into a dark, cool drawer with acid-free tissue paper. This habit also keeps my styling fresh—I rediscover pieces I had forgotten about, and I am less tempted to buy duplicates.

The Old Habit: The Five-Minute Fastening Test

Before I leave the house with any vintage accessory, I give it a five-minute test. I put it in my hair, move my head gently from side to side, tilt forward, and then check that it has not shifted. This is especially important for combs and slides that rely on tension rather than a clasp. If a piece feels loose, I do not wear it. I have learned the hard way that a beautiful comb is no good if you spend the whole lunch worrying it will fall into your soup. If the piece fails the test, I either adjust the fit (a small piece of felt on the inside of a metal clip can work wonders) or I set it aside for a day when I am wearing my hair in a style that offers more grip.

The New Habit: A Dedicated Cleaning Day

Once a month, I clean my most-worn pieces. I use a soft, dry cloth for most surfaces—never water on old plastics unless I am certain they are waterproof. For metal accessories, I use a gentle jewellery cloth designed for silver or brass. I avoid chemical cleaners entirely; they can strip the patina that gives vintage pieces their character. I also inspect for residue from hairspray or styling products. If I find any, I wipe it off with a barely damp cotton bud and then dry immediately. This habit has kept my collection looking vibrant without any aggressive restoration.

The Old Habit: Wearing One Vintage Piece at a Time

I know collectors who pile on three or four vintage accessories at once. It can look spectacular, but it also multiplies the risk. A heavy comb can snag on a delicate slide; a metal clip can scratch a celluloid bandeau. I prefer to wear one vintage piece as the focal point and keep the rest of my hair simple. This lets the accessory shine, and it reduces wear and tear. On days when I want more drama, I choose a single statement piece—a large 1950s sunburst comb or an Edwardian feather clip—and let it do the talking. The habit also makes it easier to pair vintage with modern clothing. A single 1940s lucite barrette against a clean, contemporary silhouette creates a deliberate contrast that feels fresh rather than costumed.

The New Habit: Reading the Materials

I used to buy pieces based purely on looks. Now I read the materials the way I might read the ingredients on a food label. Celluloid is flammable and can degrade over time if stored near heat. Casein (milk plastic) is sensitive to water and can warp. Metal prongs on early combs were often made of steel that rusts easily. Understanding these properties has changed how I store and wear each piece. I keep celluloid away from radiators, I never wear casein in the rain, and I wipe metal clips dry after a humid day. This habit has extended the life of my collection more than any polish or repair kit ever could. For a deeper dive into the specific qualities of mid-century materials, I recommend our guide to The Sunny Hair Comb: A Collector's Guide to a Mid-Century British Icon, which discusses the durability of the lucite and metal alloys used in that era.

The Old Habit: Buying with a Story in Mind

I do not buy every vintage piece I find beautiful. I ask myself: Where will I wear this? Does it fit my life, or will it sit in a drawer? The pieces that last in my collection are the ones that have a place in my wardrobe—a tortoiseshell comb for workdays, a velvet bow for evening events, a simple metal slide for weekends. I also consider the original context. A 1910s hair ornament designed for an elaborate Edwardian updo may not translate easily into a modern low ponytail. That does not mean I avoid it, but I go in knowing I will need to adapt my styling. The Challenging the Trends of 1917: Edwardian Hair Accessories post on this blog explores how those elaborate pieces can be reimagined for contemporary wear without losing their character.

The New Habit: Sharing the Knowledge

I started a small notebook of tips from other collectors. When I meet someone at a vintage fair who mentions a clever storage trick or a repair method, I write it down. One collector told me she uses a tiny dab of museum wax on the inside of metal clips to prevent slipping. Another showed me how to straighten a bent comb prong by dipping it in warm water (never hot) and gently pressing it flat. I have started passing these tips along when I sell or gift pieces to friends. The more we share practical knowledge, the longer these accessories survive. It is a habit that costs nothing but pays in community.

The comb with the missing teeth is still on my dressing table. This morning, I used it before pinning in a 1950s green lucite slide that I had not worn since last autumn. The slide passed the five-minute test. The comb reminded me to be gentle. And the weekly inventory from last Sunday confirmed that the slide is still in good condition—no rust, no cracks, just a little dust that I wiped away with a dry cloth. That is the balance I am learning: new habits for preservation, old habits for joy. Neither one works without the other.