The traditional tiara gets a modern makeover

When Lady Gaga turned 26 this year, she posted a picture of herself on Twitter, looking solemn and wearing a glittering tiara, along with her birthday note to self: ‘I can be the queen that’s inside of me.’ Such is the positive power of sparkly headwear. Particularly if it’s bespoke and designer. When her make-up artist Tara Savelo teased her for taking self-portraits with her iPad, Gaga replied: ‘You’re just jealous that my tiara is custom Louis Vuitton.’

Never underestimate a tiara. It is the accessory that refuses to die. Just as they were beginning to seem terminally tarnished and passé, and people weren’t even wearing them to Elton John’s White Tie and Tiara Ball any more, suddenly fashion embraces them all over again, just as it has done this year, with freeform, deconstructed tiaras such as Vivienne Westwood’s new finely spun Palladium tiara (made to order from £8,000) crowning the tousled head of Georgia May Jagger, understated bands of diamonds (‘ferronières’) encircling the brow of Natalie Portman, and Dolce & Gabbana’s embellished headband of flowers festooning Kirsten Dunst at Cannes.

It all started in Mesopotamia, of course, where pagans loved to rattle their diadems. In classical times wreaths were worn around the head to symbolise devotion to a particular cult: laurel for Apollo, ivy for Dionysus, wheat for Demeter, myrtle for Aphrodite and sturdy oak for Zeus. These were soon reworked in gold by Greek and Roman craftsmen in a highly realistic manner — sometimes with golden insects lurking among the leaves. In the Renaissance, too much bling was thought to look rather pagan, as well as a little over-reaching, but Napoleon later latched on to the look for his Empress Josephine, who was seldom seen without a tiara. Soon, the modern tiara began to emerge as a top accessory for formal occasions — not to be confused with the golden Papal tiara, which is seldom seen at balls.

Geoffrey C Munn, managing director of Wartski jewellers and author of the magnificent tome Tiaras: A History of Splendour, notes that a tiara was often compulsory at Victorian and Edwardian gatherings. There was, he says, a ‘genuine fear’ of being invited to a formal reception after banking hours — since any really good tiara lives at the bank, of course. When in London, Queen Mary wore hers ‘almost every night’ for supper with the King in their private apartments.

After the First World War things began to be codified and ‘Tiaras will be worn’ often appeared in the bottom right-hand corner of an invitation alongside similar instructions for medals and white tie. Frequently tiaras would be used ‘like a jewel Meccano set’ and made down into brooches, necklaces or rings, before being reassembled for a particular occasion.

Traditionally, tiaras were never worn by unmarried women (who had to make do with fresh flowers, feathers, sprigs of leaves and the like). The first time a tiara was worn was, therefore, at one’s wedding, when it was customary for the bride to flaunt her family sparkler, if there was one. Princess Diana wore the Spencer tiara to her wedding in 1981, while the Duchess of York received a new tiara purchased by the Queen and Sophie, Countess of Wessex borrowed her wedding tiara from Her Majesty — who also lent Kate Middleton her Cartier ‘halo’ tiara.

It has been a year of pageantry and royal celebrations, and the mood has trickled into fashion, with a pop-up tiara store at Selfridges, and conspicuously traditional tiaras on almost every model on the catwalk at the Louis Vuitton and Roberto Cavalli shows. We are still getting over the fact that Elizabeth Taylor’s treasure trove of jewellery raised more than £100 million at Christie’s (her collection included a tiara from her third husband, Mike Todd, presented to her with the words: ‘You’re my queen, and I think you should have a tiara’).

And then there was Downton Abbey. When Lady Mary married Matthew Crawley, we all knew she would pull something magnificent out of the vault. ‘We were delighted when the costume designers chose one of our tiaras,’ says the head of marketing at Bentley & Skinner, jewellers by appointment to the Queen and the Prince of Wales. ‘She wore a 45ct Georgian myrtle-leaf tiara, which we were able to alter so it could sit more like a band across the head, to suit the 1920s style.’ It was passed on to Lady Edith, who was sadly jilted at the altar by Sir Anthony Strallan. The tiara is currently blazing in the window of Bentley & Skinner, still available to purchase at £125,000.

Borrowing is also an option, and any piece from Bentley & Skinner may be hired, so long as a deposit is made of the full retail value (one per cent is retained, plus a charge of £75 per day — insurance and bodyguards are the customer’s own concern). ‘We get lots of calls for weddings and parties,’ says the spokeswoman. One lucky bride, Emma-Rose Cunningham, told me how it felt to wear a Romanov tiara: ‘Without a doubt, the tiara made me feel rather majestic… It made me feel unique and beautiful. It definitely dictated my posture — there was no slouching — but it didn’t feel cumbersome in the slightest and as we glided over the dancefloor, I didn’t give it a second thought.’ The tiara came with its own bodyguard provided by the insurers and was secured to her hair after ‘an hour of hairspray and grips’.

Brides aside, the traditional tiara is being shaken up, reimagined in the style of Damien Hirst (Butler & Wilson pewter skull tiara, £128; in a nice touch, the centre skull has red eyes), or worn with attitude and an ironic twist — perhaps some smudged lipstick, à la Courtney Love circa 1995. There’s definitely a punk element to a casually worn tiara. As Vivienne Westwood told Women’s Wear Daily: ‘You can have quite messy hair, and just shove a couple of grips in it, and have this tiara and a scruffy little dress or whatever. It’s a way of dressing. You can wear rubbish and you can just put that on and it does something for your hair and everything.’ She sums everything up with a shrug: ‘So, I like tiaras.’ We couldn’t have put it better ourselves.