What the May 2017 Archives Reveal About Vintage Hair Accessories
Scrolling through the May 2017 archives of this journal feels like opening a carefully kept hatbox from a country house attic. The entries from that month capture a particular moment in the revival of British hair accessory craftsmanship — just before the mainstream rediscovered tortoiseshell combs and silk ribbon bows. Back then, collectors were still trading tips on obscure eBay listings and handwritten notes from Portobello Road dealers. Revisiting those posts now offers more than nostalgia; it reveals patterns in how we source, date, and care for pieces that are only becoming rarer.
The Clarity of a Single Month's Archive
May 2017 sits at a curious intersection. The decade's obsession with minimalism was beginning to soften, and a younger generation was tentatively exploring the 1940s silhouette — not as costume, but as daily wear. The blog archives from that period show a community grappling with two questions: how to authenticate a mid-century celluloid comb without damaging it, and how to wear a Victorian jet hair ornament without looking like a museum display. The answers then were more provisional than they are today, and that rawness is precisely what makes the archive valuable.
One entry, dated the second week of May, walks through the telltale signs of a genuine 1920s "hair jewel" — the kind set with paste stones and backed with a fine mesh of silver-toned wire. The author notes that many pieces sold as "Art Deco" in 2017 were actually later reproductions from the 1970s, distinguished by their machine-cut edges and uniform stone settings. That kind of granular detail, written in real time rather than retrospective gloss, anchors a collector's education.
Materials and Techniques That Surface in Spring
British spring weather, with its damp mornings and sudden sun, has always been hard on vintage hair accessories. The May 2017 archives include a practical post about seasonal care: how a sudden warm spell can cause horn combs to warp, and why celluloid pieces should never be stored in a plastic bag (the off-gassing of camphor can actually soften the material). The advice holds true today, and it is worth revisiting if you have recently added a celluloid hair slide to your collection.
The post also discusses the difference between French jet, black glass, and vulcanite — three materials that look almost identical to the untrained eye but require entirely different cleaning methods. French jet, a dark glass, can be gently wiped with a damp cloth; vulcanite (hardened rubber) must never be exposed to water, only a dry, soft brush. The archive entry includes a small table that remains one of the clearest references I have seen:
| Material | Common Era | Cleaning Method | Storage Note |
|---|---|---|---|
| French Jet (glass) | 1850–1900 | Damp microfibre cloth | Wrap in acid-free tissue |
| Vulcanite (rubber) | 1850–1920 | Dry brush only | Keep away from heat |
| Celluloid | 1880–1940 | Damp cotton bud for details | Ventilated box, no plastic |
| Pressed Horn | 1800–1920 | Lanolin wipe, then buff | Stable humidity, no sun |
Cult Silhouettes That Defined the Mid-2010s Interest
The May 2017 archives devote considerable space to the Edwardian "Gibson Girl" pompadour comb — a piece that was surprisingly hard to find in good condition even then. Collectors were noting that the long, sweeping combs with five to seven prongs were often broken at the tips, and that restored pieces (with new prongs grafted on) were being sold as original. One archive post shows a reader's photograph of a genuine tortoiseshell example alongside a later celluloid copy; the difference in patina and flexibility is striking when you see them side by side.
Another silhouette that appears repeatedly in that month's entries is the 1950s "banana clip" — a hinged metal bar that curves to fit the crown of the head. British manufacturers like Debenhams and Selfridge's house brands produced them in brushed gold tones with small enamel flowers. The archives note that the spring mechanism is the first thing to fail, and a working clip from that era is now worth significantly more than a decorative one with a broken spring. This kind of practical knowledge — what to inspect before purchase — is the backbone of a thoughtful collection.
Bows, Ribbons, and the Art of the Re-tie
A particularly charming post from late May 2017 focuses on the velvet hair bow, a staple of British schoolgirl style from the 1940s through the 1960s. The author explains how to distinguish a handmade bow (uneven stitching, raw edges turned inward) from a factory-made one (perfectly symmetrical, heat-sealed edges). The post includes a step-by-step guide to re-tying a vintage velvet bow without cutting the original ribbon — a skill that saves many pieces from unnecessary alteration. That guide is still one of the most-requested pieces of content from the archive, and it pairs beautifully with a later article on how to approach building a cohesive vintage collection without overwhelming your space, which you can read on the Build a Vintage Collection Page with Simple HTML: No Code Needed.
Digital Practicalities of a Vintage Archive
Reading through the May 2017 posts, I am reminded that maintaining a blog about physical objects also requires tending to the digital space that houses them. That month, the journal published a short, unglamorous but essential piece about organising digital photographs of your collection — naming files by decade and material, keeping a separate folder for provenance scans, and backing everything up to a separate drive. It is the kind of advice that sounds tedious until you need to identify a piece for insurance or a loan to a small museum exhibition. For collectors who also run a blog or a small online shop, the same principle applies to the technical side of your site; the guide on Why Your Vintage Accessories Blog Needs an ads.txt File was written in that same spirit of protecting your digital presence with the same care you give your physical collection.
What the Archive Teaches Us Today
Seven years on, the May 2017 archives read as a calm, methodical record of a community that cared deeply about getting the details right. There are no grand declarations about sustainability — just quiet, consistent attention to buying fewer pieces and knowing them better. One post profiles a collector in Bath who owned exactly twelve hair ornaments, each chosen over the course of a decade, each with a handwritten note about where it was found and what condition it was in when purchased. That discipline, more than any trend, is what keeps vintage accessories alive as a living part of personal style rather than a static museum category.
The most practical takeaway from that month's writing is a simple one: archive your own collection before you need to. Whether you keep a physical notebook, a spreadsheet, or a series of dated blog posts, the act of recording what you own — its material, its approximate date, its provenance — transforms a pile of pretty objects into a resource. The next time you find a 1930s celluloid comb at a car boot sale, you will be glad you have a reference point from a quiet May afternoon in 2017, when someone else took the time to write down exactly what to look for.