Why Are The British So Fascinated By Fascinators? (2024)

When I got married almost a year ago, a number of stylistic rites of passage fell by the wedding wayside. My bridesmaids wore white. There was no “something blue” (except for my partner’s Gucci suit). And my husband and I got ready for the lunchtime ceremony together, having chosen to walk down the aisle side by side.

For me, those decisions were a no-brainer, but they left a certain member of my bridal party just a soupçon stressed. My mum was perplexed over whether, to attend her daughter’s fairly low-key London wedding in the spring, she should wear a hat, a fascinator, or an (entirely new to me but apparently very big in the mother-of-the-bride community) alternative known as a “hatinator”. Not helping mum’s millinery musings? She had heard word of weddings where fascinators had, either due to their apparent informality or bridal misgivings, been banned.

“Fascinators are not permitted,” reads the dress code for Ascot’s Royal Enclosure. Headbands with outré embellishments – feathers, organza and sinamay swirls, corsages, bows and beading, or in the case of Isabella Blow’s famed Philip Treacy and Alexander McQueen fascinator collection, the microscopic hulls of ships, lobsters, tiny buildings or arrow heads – are not deemed sufficiently posh for racing’s most aristocratic enclave. The guidelines continue: “A headpiece which has a solid base of 4 inches (10cm) or more in diameter is acceptable as an alternative to a hat.”

It’s ironic that Ascot’s Royal Enclosure discourages fascinators, as they’re the millinery must-have at many other events on the society calendar. In hat history, the fascinator dates back to the 1770s and Marie Antoinette, who placed feathers and gems amidst her rococo ringlets. Come the King’s Coronation on 6 May, royal-watchers will have their eyes peeled not just for Operation Golden Orb’s associated priceless regalia (coronets, swords, sceptres et al), but also the fascinators festooning the modern elite’s pompadours. So who is responsible for the royals appearing to be, at times, a little gung ho with the glue gun?

We can thank Princess Diana for many things when it comes to style – retro lo-fi gym and ski looks, lessons in revenge dressing, colour-pop skirt suits and prairie collars among them. And also, in the ’80s, the not-quite-a-hat. She had a selection of wide-brimmed and pillbox hats by Philip Somerville, Catherine Walker, Viv Knowland and John Boyd, but also many headpieces that were disc-shaped and compact, worn to weddings and ceremonial events, that might veer into, in modern parlance, “hatinator” territory.

Queen Camilla will be trading up from her beloved collection of feathered, foliage and flower-festooned Philip Treacy hats and fascinators on 6 May, when she will be crowned with a modified version of Queen Mary’s Garrard crown, originally commissioned for the 1911 Coronation of George V. Scrutinise her extensive collection, and it’s notable that Camilla also has a predilection for headbands that have been given a haute glow up. She broke with custom on the day of her civil wedding ceremony to the then Prince of Wales in 2005, wearing a wide-brimmed ivory hat instead of a tiara for her daytime nuptials, before changing into a headband that glowed with curving golden wheat sheaves.

Back in the 19th century, what we now know as a fascinator is said to have been referred to as a “cloud”. In which case, the Met Office should have issued a severe weather warning ahead of the 2011 wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton, a landmark royal event so awash with fantastical fascinators it kickstarted a contemporary obsession. Cue Victoria Beckham in a precarious Philip Treacy pillbox creation, Queen Sofia of Spain sporting a netted lilac confection, and Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie also in daring Treacy designs (which attracted much tabloid derision at the time). Beatrice took it all in her stride – she later sold her headpiece for £81,100 on eBay, donating the money raised to UNICEF and Children in Crisis.