Start with the Hairpin: A Beginner’s Guide to Vintage British Hair Accessories

The first hairpin many collectors pick up is a simple steel U-shaped pin, often wrapped in celluloid or tipped with plastic. It was the first mass-produced hair accessory in Britain, made possible by the wire-drawing mills of Birmingham in the 1850s. That small, functional object carries the entire history of British hair fashion in its slim, springy form.

Why the Hairpin Deserves Your Attention First

In the sprawling world of vintage hair accessories—elaborate combs, sculptural slides, oversized bows—the hairpin stands as the quiet foundation. Its design has remained remarkably consistent for over a century: a U-shaped piece of metal, sometimes wrapped in cellulose or tipped with plastic, that holds hair in place without visible fuss.

Yet within that simplicity lies a story of industrial innovation and social change. The hairpin was the first mass-produced hair accessory in Britain, made possible by the wire-drawing mills of Birmingham and the Black Country in the 1850s. Before that, hair was pinned with hand-forged iron or bone pins, which were expensive and often broke. The introduction of factory-made steel hairpins allowed women of all classes to experiment with updos, and by the 1870s, no household was without a dozen.

For a beginner collector, the hairpin is the ideal starting point. It is affordable, widely available, and teaches you to read the subtle signs of age and material. The The Humble Cart: Britain’s Unsung Hairpin is a perfect companion piece—it details the specific types of hairpins that were made in different decades, from the blunt-ended Edwardian pins to the wavy 1920s models. Start there, and you will quickly learn to distinguish between a genuine Victorian hairpin (with its hand-filed tip) and a later reproduction.

Materials and Techniques: Reading the Language of Metal

The earliest hairpins were made of steel, often plated with nickel or silver to prevent rust. By the 1890s, manufacturers began wrapping the prongs with celluloid—a new synthetic material that could imitate tortoiseshell or ivory. This was a turning point: celluloid hairpins were lighter, more flexible, and could be produced in bright colours. If you hold a hairpin up to the light and see a faint milky glow, it is likely early celluloid. Later, in the 1930s, Bakelite and Catalin replaced celluloid for higher-end pieces, offering a deeper, richer colour that polishes beautifully.

Look for the telltale signs of hand-finishing. A pre-1900 hairpin will have a slightly irregular curve, as it was bent by hand after being cut. The prongs may not be perfectly parallel. The patina of age—a dark, even tarnish on the metal—is desirable, but avoid pins with active rust flakes or pitting, as these indicate poor storage conditions. A good rule of thumb: if the hairpin still has a trace of its original spring, it will hold your hair as well as it did a hundred years ago.

Beyond the Hairpin: Building Your First Small Collection

Once you have acquired two or three well-preserved hairpins, the natural next step is to explore the other foundational shapes of the Victorian and Edwardian era. The side comb, the hair slide, and the hairpin clip all share the same DNA of simple mechanics. Each requires a different kind of hair texture and styling technique, which is part of the pleasure of learning to use them. I recommend hunting for a “Tortoiseshell” style comb (marked as celluloid or horn) from the 1910s, and a slip-on hair slide from the 1920s, which often features geometric Art Deco motifs.

When you buy, ask the seller if the piece has been professionally cleaned. Many vintage hairpins arrive with a layer of old hairspray or oil that can be gently removed with a soft cloth and a dab of isopropyl alcohol, but never soak them in water—the metal can corrode. For a deeper dive into the mindset of a collector, the article The Blog That Is Not Afraid of Virginia Woolf: Vintage Hair Accessories with Depth explores how ornamentation and personal identity intersect in these small objects. It is a thoughtful read for anyone moving from casual curiosity to genuine collecting.

Practical Tips for Your First Vintage Hairpin Purchase

• Check the spring. Gently press the two prongs together; they should offer resistance and spring back. If they feel limp or wobble, the metal has fatigued.
• Inspect the material. Celluloid should not smell like camphor (a sign of decomposition). Bakelite leaves a characteristic “formaldehyde” scent when rubbed vigorously—a known test, but do it lightly.
• Look for maker’s marks. British hairpins were rarely stamped, but some 1930s silver-plated pins carry a tiny “EPNS” (Electro Plated Nickel Silver) mark. It adds provenance.
• Match the finish. If you plan to wear the hairpin, it should match the colour of your other accessories. A warm tortoiseshell celluloid works with autumn tones; a jet-black Bakelite pin is perfect for a severe bun.
• Buy from a specialist. Charity shops may have hairpins, but they are often missing their partner or damaged. Vintage fairs and online dealers who photograph the piece from multiple angles are more reliable.

How to Care for Your First Finds

Once you have brought your first vintage hairpins home, store them in a dry, dark place. Sunlight fades coloured celluloid and Bakelite within weeks. A simple fabric-lined jewellery box is ideal, but if you want to display them, use a shadow box with UV-protective glass. Never store hairpins in plastic bags; the trapped moisture encourages rust. For daily wear, slide the pin into clean, dry hair—any product residue will dull the surface. Wipe it gently after each use with a soft cloth, and it will remain beautiful for decades to come.

So, start with a single hairpin. Look for a steel pin with a hand-filed tip from the 1880s, or a celluloid one with a warm tortoiseshell glow. Gently press the prongs to feel the spring. That small test tells you if it will hold your hair as it did a hundred years ago. That is the real beginning of collecting—not a grand declaration, but a quiet, practical connection to the past.