Going to the Mattresses: Building a Vintage Hair Accessory Kit That Actually Works

Every British vintage collector knows the sinking feeling: you’ve secured a rare 1920s tortoiseshell comb at a flea market in Bath, only to have it snap the first time you pin up damp hair after a surprise April shower. The phrase “going to the mattresses” usually conjures images of mobsters stockpiling weapons. In our world, it means curating a small, durable arsenal of vintage hair accessories that can survive real life—rain, wind, a frantic Tube commute, and the occasional impromptu garden party. This is not about building a museum display. It’s about assembling a capsule collection so resilient and versatile that you can reach for it blindfolded, knowing each piece will perform.

Defining Your Core Four: Eras That Earn Their Keep

Not every era delivers accessories built for daily wear. The 1930s, for instance, produced delicate metal slides with enamel flowers that tarnish on contact with hairspray. The 1950s, on the other hand, gave us sturdy lucite and horn combs designed to hold victory rolls in place through an entire shift at the typing pool. For your “mattresses” kit, focus on four eras with proven track records:

• 1890s–1910s: Celluloid and early plastic gavroche barrettes. These are surprisingly flexible and resist breakage; look for pieces with intact springs.
• 1950s: Large claw clips (often called “snappers”) and decorative comb-and-barrette sets. The metal springs are robust, and the plastics—Bakelite, Lucite, and early polystyrene—handle heat and humidity well.
• 1960s: Pesky-but-practical plastic hairbands with integrated comb teeth. They stay put on fine hair without digging into the scalp.
• 1980s: Over-sized resin snaps and “banana” clips. Avoid anything with glued-on rhinestones; solid-colour or marbled resin clips are nearly indestructible.

Materials That Mean Business

When you’re dressing for a day that might include drizzle, a yoga class, and dinner at a friend’s, certain materials become non-negotiable.

Celluloid and Casein

These early plastics from the 1900s–1930s have a surprising resilience. Avoid prolonged water submersion, but occasional condensation won’t harm them. Celluloid is flammable, so keep it away from open flames (i.e., not near a birthday cake). Casein (milk protein plastic) smells faintly of burnt milk when heated but is otherwise very stable.

Bakelite

The workhorse of the 1930s–1940s. It resists heat, water, and most hair products. Because it’s thermosetting, it won’t warp. A quick way to test: rub a small inconspicuous spot with a cotton bud dipped in 409 cleaner—real Bakelite smells like formaldehyde. It’s safe to use daily.

Stainless Steel and Silver

Many Edwardian hairpins and 1950s French hair forks are made from sterling silver or steel. Silver tarnishes but is easily cleaned; steel is virtually indestructible. Look for pieces with a patina rather than modern plating—plated items chip and expose base metal.

Selecting the Shapes That Stay Put

British hair, especially in damp conditions, has a mind of its own. The following silhouettes have been battle-tested by decades of commuters, debutantes, and punk rockers.

• The Marcasite Slide: A long, flat barrette with a spring-clip or prong back. Marcasite stones add weight, keeping the slide from sliding off. Ideal for a side-swept French twist.
• The Ratti Comb: A decorative comb with wide-set teeth used to secure a chignon. The classic Italian version (popular in 1920s London) has five curved teeth; the teeth are tapered to grip thicker hair without pulling.
• The Bow Clip: Not the floppy fabric kind from the 1980s—the structured, metal-framed bow clips from the 1960s that clip onto hair with a satisfying snap. They work on fine hair because the frame keeps the bow from flopping.
• The Interlocking Claw: Popular from the 1970s onward, these have overlapping teeth that distribute tension evenly. Avoid those with a single central hinge; they tend to pop open.

Where to Source Your Battle-Ready Pieces

Charity shops in affluent areas (think Chelsea, Hampstead, or the Cotswolds) still yield 1950s combs with original finishes. Online, focus on sellers who describe wear to the spring or plating—these are honest about condition. Auction houses like Christie’s South Kensington often have vintage jewellery and accessory lots that include hair accessories; the catalogues note the material and maker.

One often-overlooked source: vintage haberdashery stock from the 1940s–1960s. Small fabric shops that have been in business for decades sometimes have boxes of unused hair accessories in the back. A polite enquiry can unearth pristine Bakelite slides still in their original tissue.

Daily Care to Extend Lifespan

Even the toughest vintage piece needs a little attention. Here’s a routine that takes less than two minutes.

• After each wear: Wipe the accessory with a soft, dry cloth to remove hairspray residue, skin oils, and dust. For metal, use a silver polishing cloth once a month.
• Weekly check: Test the spring tension. If a clip feels loose, don’t try to bend the metal yourself—take it to a jeweller who works with vintage pieces. Many can replace a spring for under £10.
• Storage: Keep each piece in an individual cotton pouch or a compartmentalised box. Never store Bakelite near celluloid—they can off-gas and cause each other to discolour.
• Humidity management: In a damp British bathroom, keep your accessories in a sealed box with a silica gel packet. Moisture causes casein to warp and metal to corrode.

Assembling Your Personal Kit

Start with five pieces: one large claw clip for buns, one slide for half-up styles, one ratti comb for evening looks, one bow clip for a quick accent, and one all-purpose hairpin for touch-ups. Wear each piece for a week straight to see how it behaves in different weather conditions. After that month, you’ll know which ones deserve a permanent place in your handbag—and which should be retired to the display shelf.

A 1950s Lucite comb with integral teeth, for instance, might become your go-to for rainy days because it doesn’t slip. A 1910s celluloid barrette with a corroded spring, however lovely, will fail you when you need it most—that’s a piece for the shadow box, not the mattresses.