A Picture Diary of Vintage Hair Accessories: Edwardian Combs, 1920s Bandeaus, and More

Last Tuesday, a parcel arrived from a small antique shop in Lewes. Inside, wrapped in acid-free tissue, lay a single Edwardian hair comb carved from tortoiseshell—real, not pressed horn—with a delicate fan of hand-cut teeth and a central motif of entwined leaves. The comb was unmarked, but the patina and the slight asymmetry of the carving told me it was almost certainly made in the 1890s. Photographing it this morning, I realised how much of a vintage accessory’s story is told not by words, but by light, shadow, and the careful arrangement of a few props. That is what this week’s post is about: a picture diary of what crossed my desk, and what each image reveals about the craft, the era, and the joy of owning something that has outlasted its first owner.

The Morning Light and a 1920s Band

Not every find arrives by post. Sometimes you walk into a charity shop in Islington and spot a celluloid bandeau, pale pink with a geometric pattern of silver foil, sitting in a box of costume jewellery. The bandeau is from the mid-1920s, when the flapper silhouette demanded sleek, close-to-the-head accessories that could catch the light during a Charleston. Celluloid was the plastic of its day—lightweight, inexpensive, and surprisingly durable if kept away from heat. To photograph it, I used a north-facing window and a piece of grey card. The subtle reflection of the foil pattern is best seen when the bandeau is tilted at forty-five degrees. That angle, that specific light, is what separates a snapshot from a document.

When I style these pieces for the blog, I think about what the original owner would have worn. For the 1920s bandeau, a silk velvet dress, a long strand of pearls, and hair slicked into a Marcel wave. Today, it works beautifully with a simple cashmere jumper and wide-leg trousers—the contrast of eras creates a conversation. If you are building a collection that tells a coherent story, consider reading The Colour of Vintage Hair Accessories: A Collector's Guide to Eras and Styling; it walks through how colour palettes shift across decades and how to use that knowledge to anchor your display.

Three Bows, Two Eras, One Afternoon

Bows are arguably the most photographed category of vintage hair accessory—and for good reason. They are instantly recognisable, photogenic, and packed with period detail. This week I had three on the table. The first was a 1950s grosgrain bow clip, wide and structured, in a shade of coral that is almost impossible to find in modern ribbons. The second was a 1930s velvet bow slide, much smaller, with a metal spring clip that still holds tight. The third was a 1970s silk faille bow on a French barrette—narrower, softer, with a label from a now-defunct department store in Manchester.

• 1950s grosgrain bow clip – best worn at the crown, slightly off-centre. Pairs well with a structured dress or a twin set.
• 1930s velvet bow slide – ideal for side-swept hair or a low chignon. The velvet catches the light differently depending on the nap.
• 1970s silk faille bow barrette – works with loose waves or a half-up style. The label adds provenance, but the condition matters more.

Photographing bows requires attention to the ribbon’s texture. A flat scan flattens the volume. Instead, I use a small clamp to hold the bow upright, then shoot from slightly above with a softbox to the side. The result is a picture that shows the bow’s three-dimensional shape—the loops, the tails, the way the fabric folds. If you are assembling a practical kit that covers multiple eras, the Going to the Mattresses: Building a Vintage Hair Accessory Kit That Actually Works guide is a reliable starting point for choosing pieces that photograph well and wear beautifully.

The Unphotographable: A Note on Patina

Some details do not translate to a screen. The warmth of a Bakelite slide when you hold it—the resin has a low thermal conductivity, so it feels neither cold nor hot. The whisper of a metal hairpin from 1910, still springy after a century. The slight residue of hair oil on the inside of a vintage comb, a ghost of the person who wore it last. I try to evoke these things in captions, because no lens can capture them. When you buy vintage, you are not just buying an object; you are buying a relationship with time. That is why I encourage collectors to photograph their pieces not only for social media, but for their own records. A picture taken today will be a historical document tomorrow.

Practical Tips for Your Own Picture Diary

If you want to start a visual record of your vintage hair accessory collection, begin small. Pick one accessory a week. Photograph it in natural light, against a neutral background, and include a ruler or a coin for scale. Write a single sentence about why it matters to you—the shop where you found it, the era it represents, the way it makes you feel. Over a year, you will have fifty-two stories. That becomes a blog in pictures, and also a personal archive.

For the display, avoid direct sunlight. UV rays fade celluloid, Bakelite, and even metal foils. Store combs and slides in padded boxes, and never stack them. If you photograph with flash, use a diffuser. The goal is not perfection; it is preservation through documentation.

This week’s diary ends with a single image: the Edwardian comb from Lewes, now resting on a velvet pad, its carved leaves catching the last of the afternoon light. I have not decided whether to wear it or to keep it as a study piece. That is the luxury of collecting—you can change your mind. For now, the picture is enough.