Beatrice Barilla

Ah, yes, that time of year again: falling leaves, the smell of spice, crisp air and — who could forget — that annual plunge into Pinterest for “niche” Halloween costume ideas! Back home, the latter was practically tradition. This year, I have codified it in college with some suitemates: We lie on our friend’s fluffy rug, eat candy at 12 a.m. and scrounge around on the app for something new and, candidly, a little risqué. 

With four of us, we consider witches, Winx Club, knights and clowns. We consider our low budgets and look again.  

Suddenly, I hear a hopeful gasp.

My suitemate shows us a picture  — Pinterest-perfect, of course — of a Middle Ages princess: a cone-shaped hat with a sparkly flowing veil, a flowy gown that’s amenable to shortening and the possibility of matching colors. A winning combo! 

But in addition to a girl seeking a Halloween costume, I am a nerd, and this costume got me thinking. Why did women wear conical “hennins”? Why were they veiled? What were beauty standards like in the era of chivalry and the Crusades? I wanted to do a little research! Welcome to Yale, I guess. I’m not an expert by any means, but here is what I found interesting: 

The Middle Ages spanned a long period of human-scale time: about a thousand years, roughly 500 to 1500 CE. The fall of Rome plunged Europe into this time of uncertainty, nicknamed the Dark Ages — oooh, Halloween spooky!  

In Europe, power was decentralized, except for the Church. Remember the feudal system from middle school? Society was deeply hierarchical, and laws about attire were strict and indicative of class. As you can probably surmise, women didn’t have many rights,  and especially in the face of the Catholic Church, modesty and propriety were paramount. The woman was in charge of the household, children and sewing.  

That being said, lower class women were active in the workforce to help the family — yet they still wore long dresses, which would drive me crazy if I was trying to farm. The only way for a low-class woman to climb the social ladder was to marry or become a nun. 

Women’s rights would actually increase later with the rising importance of the Cult of Virgin Mary — which allowed society to think that women were not all devilish temptresses like Eve and could be innocently pure instead like Mary — and the Black Death, which killed so many people that women kind of had to be allowed to run their dead husband’s business. A win is a win. 

But let’s talk of costumes! Especially in the later Middle Ages, clothing was a way to show wealth through opulent and expensive materials, which sadly will not be appearing in my costume, like metals, jewels, silks and furs. 

The main dress, a kirtle or cotte, was worn over a linen chemise. The familiar gowns we see often in movies, with long sleeves that could sweep the floor are called houppelandes and could be worn over the main kirtle. Again, I will not be doing this for I fear I would be tripping over myself all night, but at least the sleeves were sometimes detachable for washing or replacing. The skirts were voluminous, and dresses were often high-waisted and belted for shape. A less-fashionable form of the houppelande was a hoodless cloak called a “mantle,” which honestly I may be pulling out this weekend to avoid hypothermia. 

Notably, women’s clothing didn’t have pockets back then, either, so I guess the fashion industry was already out to get us. Instead, women carried around pouches on a belt or string, like we carry purses, because even though a thousand years have passed, apparently adding pockets to women’s clothing is still too difficult. 

But I digress. The aforementioned hennin could be pointed, double-pointed — which was called an escoffion — truncated or V-shaped. Topped with a veil called a cointoise for elegance and modesty, this structure covered the hair and emphasized the forehead — that’s right, receding hairlines were actually in!  Women even plucked hair from the forehead for a higher hairline. Blonde hair was also desirable, and some women used a sheep’s bladder to achieve the color. Sadly, I couldn’t find this one on Depop. 

Although I may not approach complete historical accuracy with my friend’s mini dress and a ‘hennin’ from Etsy, it’s fun to see how far fashion has come. I’m glad, at least, that sheep piss will not be near my hair this weekend, and that I am more likely to catch the Yague than the Black Plague. Although, the rats on campus may have a different plan this Halloween…

Update, Nov. 2: The illustration for this article has been updated.