Blog to Hilary MicheleClaireRuby to All of Us Tough Cookies
When I first came across the name Hilary MicheleClaireRuby, I assumed it belonged to a single person — perhaps a collector with an impossibly curated Instagram feed and a wardrobe of pristine 1950s combs. It took me three separate rabbit holes (and one very patient antiques dealer in Bath) to realise that the name is not a person but a philosophy. Hilary, Michele, Claire, and Ruby are four distinct archetypes that appear again and again in the world of vintage hair accessories: the pragmatist, the romantic, the archivist, and the rebel. Together they form what some collectors now call the Tough Cookies — women who build collections not for display but for daily wear, and who treat each hair clip as a piece of functional armour.
This article is my open letter to those four women, and to every reader who has ever felt that a vintage accessory is more than decoration. If you have ever hesitated to wear a 1920s tortoiseshell comb because it felt too precious, or wondered whether a 1980s Lucite barrette could hold up to a rainy commute, this one is for you.
Who Are the Tough Cookies?
The term emerged from a forum thread in 2019, when a collector described her grandmother Ruby as someone who wore a celluloid hair slide every single day, regardless of occasion. Ruby did not save her best pieces for best. She wore them to the market, to church, to the garden. The name caught on — and soon collectors were identifying their own Hilary, Michele, Claire, or Ruby tendencies. The Tough Cookies are not a clique. They are a mindset.
- Hilary is the practical one. She chooses hair accessories that serve a real purpose: holding back thick hair during a long workday, staying secure through a bike ride, transitioning from office to evening without fuss. Her favourite pieces are often the unsung heroes — a sturdy metal French pin, a well-balanced claw clip from the 1990s.
- Michele is the romantic. She is drawn to ornament and texture: velvet bows, rhinestone-studded combs, hand-painted celluloid. She wears them as small works of art, and she does not apologise for loving beauty.
- Claire is the archivist. She knows the provenance of every piece in her collection — the year, the material, the maker if possible. She documents her combs and barrettes with the same care a museum curator would give a porcelain vase.
- Ruby is the rebel. She wears vintage on her own terms. She might pair a 1950s butterfly clip with a modern leather jacket, or wear a Victorian hair ornament as a brooch. She does not follow rules; she makes them.
Most of us are a blend of all four, depending on the day and the occasion. That is exactly the point.
Why the Tough Cookie Mindset Matters
In an era of fast fashion and disposable accessories, there is something quietly radical about choosing to wear a piece that has already lived one life — and giving it a second. The Tough Cookie philosophy is not about hoarding treasures in a drawer. It is about integrating them into your daily rhythm. A 1930s hair comb that once belonged to a stranger in Manchester can hold back your hair while you type an email. A 1960s velvet bow can accompany you to a dinner party. These objects are not fragile museum pieces. They were made to be used.
This approach also changes how you shop. Instead of looking for mint-in-box specimens, you start seeking pieces with honest wear — a slight patina on a silver slide, a tiny chip in a bakelite barrette. Those marks tell a story. They prove that someone before you loved the piece enough to wear it.
How to Cultivate Your Inner Tough Cookie
If you are new to this mindset, start small. Choose one accessory that you have been saving for a special occasion and wear it on an ordinary Tuesday. Notice how it feels — not just against your hair, but against your day. Does it hold up? Does it make you feel more yourself? That is the Tough Cookie test.
Next, consider the materials. Vintage accessories were often made from substances we now handle with care: genuine tortoiseshell (banned in 1973), celluloid (flammable but beautiful), early plastics like casein and Lucite, and metals like sterling silver and brass. Each material has its own personality and its own care requirements. A celluloid comb should never be exposed to heat or direct sunlight for long periods. A silver slide will tarnish gracefully if you let it. Knowing these details — and accepting them — is part of the Tough Cookie way.
For a deeper dive into how materials and silhouettes shift across decades, you might enjoy our earlier post on Vintage Hair Accessories for Spring: Materials, Silhouettes, and Styling Tips, which breaks down seasonal considerations for collectors who wear their finds year-round.
The Practical Side: Wearing Vintage in Modern Life
One of the most common questions I hear from readers is: How do I make a 1950s hair comb stay in my fine, slippery hair? The answer is often simpler than you think. Vintage combs were designed for hairstyles that no longer exist — elaborate rolls, pin curls, and teasing that provided grip. If your hair is straight or fine, a few modern adjustments can help: a small velvet-lined snap clip underneath the comb, a spritz of texturising spray, or even a tiny section of backcombing at the crown.
Another trick: wear the comb at a slight angle rather than parallel to the scalp. This shifts the weight and uses the natural curve of your head for better hold. And never underestimate the power of a well-placed bobby pin. The Tough Cookies know that a bobby pin is not a compromise — it is a collaborator.
For those who love the aesthetics of vintage but need modern practicality, consider pieces from the 1980s and 1990s. These decades produced sturdy, lightweight accessories in colourful plastics that can handle a full workday. If you are curious about how the 1990s comb fits into the larger story of British hair accessories, our article on The Quiet Beauty of 1999 British Hair Combs offers a close look at that transitional era.
Building a Tough Cookie Wardrobe
You do not need a massive collection to embody this philosophy. A thoughtfully curated wardrobe of five to ten pieces can be more powerful than a hundred items gathering dust. Here is a suggested starter set, with one piece for each Tough Cookie archetype:
| Archetype | Suggested Piece | Why It Works |
|---|---|---|
| Hilary | A 1990s metal French hair pin | Secure, minimalist, works with any hair type |
| Michele | A 1950s velvet-covered barrette | Adds texture and colour without bulk |
| Claire | A 1930s celluloid comb with carved details | History in your hand, and a conversation starter |
| Ruby | A 1980s Lucite clip in an unexpected shape | Bold, playful, and surprisingly durable |
Once you have your core pieces, rotate them. Wear a Hilary piece on a busy Tuesday, a Michele piece on a dinner date, a Claire piece when you need grounding, and a Ruby piece when you want to break the rules. Over time, you will find that each accessory carries not just its own history, but the memory of the days you wore it.
The Quiet Joy of Wearing Well
There is a particular satisfaction in reaching for a hair accessory that has already outlived its original owner, and knowing that you are continuing its story. It is a small act of continuity in a world that often values the new over the lasting. The Tough Cookies understand this. They do not wear vintage to impress others — although compliments are a lovely side effect. They wear it because it feels right. Because a 1940s celluloid comb has a warmth that no injection-moulded plastic can replicate. Because a 1960s enamel slide catches the light in a way that makes even a grey Tuesday feel a little more golden.
So this is my blog to Hilary, Michele, Claire, and Ruby — and to every reader who has ever hesitated before wearing a treasured piece. Wear it. The comb will survive a few raindrops. The bow can handle a gust of wind. And you, dear Tough Cookie, deserve to feel beautiful on an ordinary day.