Bizarre Victorian Mourning Customs Using The Dead’s Hair

The Victorians had a famously complicated relationship with death. While mourning was considered a deeply personal experience, it was also turned into a public ritual full of etiquette, symbolism, and visible grief. Among the stranger customs to come out of this era was the widespread use of a dead person’s hair in keepsakes, art, and even jewellery. It sounds unsettling to us now, but to Victorians, it was a way to hold on to the person they’d lost—literally.

Hair jewellery was worn as a public display of grief.

Hair wasn’t just saved; it was turned into accessories. Lockets, brooches, bracelets, and rings were often made with intricately braided strands of the deceased’s hair. These pieces weren’t hidden away; they were worn proudly as a sign of love and remembrance. Mourning jewellery could be elaborately styled, with initials, miniature portraits, and black enamel often added for dramatic effect.

Queen Victoria herself helped popularise this trend by openly wearing jewellery made from Prince Albert’s hair after his death. Because she was seen as the ideal widow, her choices set the tone for how many people approached grief, including using hair as a material in mourning fashion. What now seems macabre was once an accepted, almost fashionable, form of tribute.

Hair art turned homes into shrines.

Victorian families often created decorative wall hangings and wreaths from their loved one’s hair. These weren’t crude or rushed; they were detailed, time-consuming pieces often arranged into floral patterns, hearts, or weeping willows. The hair was sometimes combined with embroidery or photographs, turning the whole thing into a kind of memorial artwork.

Some of these creations were massive and took months to complete. Craft kits and how-to books were even sold to help people learn the technique. In an age before colour photography or video, these artworks served as a deeply personal visual reminder of the person who had died.

Hair was used in mourning books and letters.

Victorians were prolific letter writers, and mourning correspondence often included a physical memento of the person being remembered. A small lock of hair might be pressed into an envelope, pinned to a page, or tucked between the folds of a letter. Entire albums or scrapbooks could be dedicated to collecting and preserving the hair of deceased relatives and friends.

It might seem invasive now, but hair was considered a uniquely intimate relic. It didn’t decay, it could be shaped and preserved, and it felt like a tangible piece of the person who was gone. Sharing it in letters or books was seen as a thoughtful, heartfelt gesture rather than anything gruesome.

Professional hairworkers turned it into an industry.

As demand for memorial items grew, a whole industry developed around creating these keepsakes. “Hairworkers” were skilled artisans who specialised in weaving hair into jewellery or creating framed art. While many families made their own small pieces at home, more elaborate commissions were sent out to these professionals.

Some hairworkers operated discreetly out of private shops, while others advertised openly in newspapers or fashion magazines. People would send in hair with instructions, and weeks later receive a brooch, necklace, or hair wreath in return. The practice was so widespread that the UK government taxed hair jewellery as luxury goods in the mid-1800s.

Not all hair used was actually from the deceased.

Although mourning items were supposed to include the actual hair of the deceased, not everyone followed this rule. In some cases, generic hair was used, either because the real hair wasn’t available or because the family didn’t want to handle it. There are even reports of commercial hair being used to fill out larger pieces or make them look more impressive.

This has led to some strange surprises when modern historians or collectors analyse Victorian mourning pieces and find hair that doesn’t match the supposed owner. Still, for many Victorians, the symbolism was what mattered most. Genuine or not, the hair was a stand-in for grief, remembrance, and affection.

What might seem unsettling or morbid today was, in Victorian times, a deeply personal and meaningful expression of loss.

Hair was more than just a keepsake; it was seen as a physical connection to someone who was no longer alive. By wearing it, weaving it, and honouring it, grieving families found ways to keep their loved ones close in a world where death felt both ever-present and profoundly final. In its own way, this strange tradition reflects a yearning that’s still familiar: the need to hold on, even when someone is gone.