‘It looks like a miniature hamster. It’s just absolutely exquisite’: How the lucky ladybird took the worlds of French patisserie, jewellery and interior design by storm
Country Life isn't the only brand obsessed with the teeny-tiny ladybird, says Susanne Madsen, who investigates why we all find them so appealing.
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If you have ever despaired trying to locate the ladybird that has appeared on every cover of Country Life since 2019, relish in the fact that you aren’t trying to pinpoint Stethorus pusillus, the dot ladybird. About one millimetre in length, it resembles an excitable chia seed, revealing pale yellow legs to those with visual acuity. It is but one of 46 astonishingly diverse species of Coccinellidae in the UK, a beetle group fronted by an iconic lead: Coccinella septempunctata, the seven-spot ladybird, dressed in its 1980’s Yves Saint Laurent polka dot best.
One and the same: Two seven-spot ladybirds and supermodel Tyra Banks — dressed in an haute couture evening gown by French fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent (YSL).
‘Determined, cheerful, committed, hardworking,’ Professor Helen Roy of the University of Exeter and the UK Centre of Ecology and Hydrology says of the ladybird. ‘Some of them can be a bit bumbly, but in a lovely way.’ The co-author of the Field Guide to the Ladybirds of Great Britain and Ireland, Roy has studied the charming minibeasts since her PhD in 1994 — a lifelong interest that began at age six in the summer of 1976, when the ladybird population surged to such numbers that red tides would form along the English coastline.
Across cultures, ladybirds have a remarkable hold on us. They are instantly cheering figures and spring incarnate, perhaps because they are some of the first insects we see when they emerge in March from their overwintering sites among leaf litter, bark crevices and twig piles. They embody renewal and are widely considered messengers of good fortune, thought to stem from their role as a voracious pest control. One seven-spot ladybird alone can eat up to 5,000 aphids during its year-long lifespan.
As well as ladybirds, Van Cleef & Arpels' Lucky Spring collection features lily-of-the-valley buds, delicate foliage and butterflies. The maison regularly uses an enamel technique (champlevé) employed since 1906.
Not many figures can move seamlessly between the worlds of sustainable gardening, children’s books and the pinnacle of luxury, but the ladybird’s benevolent symbolism and jolly attire opens every door. At Van Cleef & Arpels, the ladybird has been a cherished, gentle-natured house guest since the 1930s when it first appeared as a charm. Whether animated in rubies or enamel, it has fluttered between clips, necklaces and secret watches, distilled this season into a pure carnelian and onyx form outlined with rose gold for the Lucky Spring collection.
‘[Ladybirds] elicit tender emotions, and that is also what Van Cleef & Arpels strives for with its creations,’ the house notes, adding how ladybird beetles are able to tap into a sense of wonder rooted in our childhood memories. A between-the-finger ring featuring a coccinellid alongside a mother of pearl plum blossom evokes the feeling of a ladybird daintily landing on your finger. Some use this precious moment to make a wish, while in parts of Europe it is custom to count until it flies away, as this is meant to signify the years until you marry.
‘There’s us really enjoying them, crawling up our finger. But for that ladybird, it’s a commitment to that moment when it’s got to fly. Once they begin to go through the process of preparing themselves for flight, they find it very hard to stop. Even if things change — maybe the wind suddenly gets up, or it starts to rain — that ladybird is still programmed to go off into flight,’ Roy explains.
A ladybird's hidden wings are often longer than its body and rely on an origami-like folding mechanism to fit under the elytra in less than a second. They can flap these wings 85 times per second.
The ladybird hides its gossamer wings below its coloured, hard forewings (elytra). It is a strong flier that can cover reasonable distances to seek food sources, but you also see it hitching rides on our modes of transportation.
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The UK’s largest ladybird, the chunky, 8-10 millimetre eyed ladybird (Anatis ocellata), is especially impressive in flight. With its black spots encircled by yellow rings, it wouldn’t look out of place as a Robert Kime textile. And while air currents certainly play a supporting role, some ladybirds have been tracked at 1,100 metres above ground at speeds of more than 60 kilometres per hour.
This Easter, they have also found their way onto Birley Bakery’s artisanal chocolate temptations. The pièce de résistance is a 1.9 kilogram milk, dark and white chocolate egg, wrapped in hyper-realistic cabbage leaves and adorned with rotund ladybirds (left). Ladybirds have also been observed in other high fashion habitats this season, moonlighting as a sequinned Anya Hindmarch mini cocktail bucket bag and a beaded Loewe keyring charm.
At Dior, a two-spot ladybird crawls along a single strand of pearls in the Diorette jewellery collection (below). Here, artistic director Victoire de Castellane has taken inspiration from Monsieur Christian Dior’s garden near Milly-la-Forêt, using the ladybird to lend a playful air to the Girls in Pearls classic among enamelled daisies, pink petals and diamond-encrusted bees.



As for the seven-spot ladybird, Coccinella septempunctata (‘scarlet seven spots’), it takes its name from Our Lady’s Bird, linked to the Virgin Mary’s red cloak and her seven joys and sorrows. There are no immaculate conceptions here, however: as David Profumo has noted of the ladybird in Country Life: ‘It is wildly promiscuous. The two-spot female can mate 20 times a year and, with copulation lasting up to nine hours, its love life is practically tantric.’ (In continental Europe, a sexually-transmitted mite, Coccipolipus hippodamiae, takes advantage of the ladybird’s amorous pursuits and can cause sterility.)
Right now, as hungry adult ladybirds have just woken up, you might see them feeding on pollen for a quick energy hit before their quest for romance. Hawthorn is a favourite, and they are grateful for a mosaic of plants and fruit trees, and dandelions left in lawns. Once they’ve reproduced, they die, and the new generation materialises. Bright yellow eggs hatch after a few days to a week, revealing larvae that go through four stages (instars) to become a pupa from which the adult ladybird emerges. The warmer the weather, the faster ladybirds develop.
Each shedding stage reveals increasingly extra-terrestrial tiny battle tank incarnations. There are the pine ladybird larvae’s punk spikes, the 22-spot ladybird’s yellow and black plates of armour, and — one of Roy’s highlights — the speckled, fluffy larva that transforms into Britain’s spottiest ladybird, the 24-spot ladybird. ‘It looks like a miniature hamster. It’s just absolutely exquisite.’
Unlike most ladybirds, 24-sport ladybirds are velvety-haired and vegetarian (they eat plant leaves rather than aphids).
Cryptolaemus montrouzieri, the mealybug ladybird, is another one with an outlandish teenage phase, best described as a waxy alien coral from an underwater fantasy world. At Chatsworth in Derbyshire, it is a valued team member in the fight against (as the name suggests) mealybugs across the estate’s 105 garden acres, where a holistic approach is favoured over chemical pesticides. Many environmentally-considerate gardeners strategically recruit native ladybird larvae to combat aphids. During its two to four week larval development, one larva can eat up to 500 aphids.
But, Roy notes, the seven-spot adult ladybird’s slightly bumbling personality sometimes comes out when it’s time for supper. ‘They have an interesting approach to finding the aphids. If they’re very hungry, they’re much more committed. When they start to get satiated, they bumble about a bit and will just wander past an aphid.’ One of her favourite ladybirds is the spectacular orange ladybird, which has up to 14 cream spots and feeds on tree mildew with mouth parts adapted to scraping fungus off the leaves.
‘Because it’s feeding on fungi, which is not so nutritionally good as an aphid, it has a slower development time. So it’s often a ladybird we see around a lot later into the autumn, giving me that moment of ladybird indulgence when many of the other ladybirds have started to go to sleep.’
To New York-based artist John Derian, ladybirds — or ladybugs, as they are known in America, despite in fact being, as he points out, beetles — are a source of delight. For ladybird enthusiasts, his sought-after decoupage pieces feel like curiosities from the chicest entomology cabinet. Antique ladybird motifs detailing the beetle’s little antennae and articulated legs adorn domed paperweights (right), trays and matchboxes, as well as his tableware for ceramic artisans Astier de Villatte. ‘There’s something beautiful about their shade of red and their charming polka dots,’ says Derian. ‘I remember when I would see them as a child, they felt so approachable since I knew they were “friendly” bugs.’
While we adore their bright wardrobes, ladybirds are in fact dressed this way to repel unwanted attention. Their aposematic colouration warns hungry predators such as swifts and swallows of their foul taste, and if attacked, their leg joints will exude reflex blood; a sticky, toxic alkaloid substance. They can fall prey to spider webs or parasitoids, but their main enemy is perhaps the invasive harlequin ladybird, Harmonia axyridis. First recorded in the UK in 2004, it poses a biodiversity threat as it can out-compete the British natives for food.
Contributing your ladybird sightings to the UK Ladybird Survey, which Roy heads up alongside Dr Peter Brown at Anglia Ruskin University, is an excellent way to help researchers understand the current ladybird population. ‘Many thousands of people submit their sightings and we also get to hear their stories,’ says Roy. ‘I love to hear what excites other people about their connection with ladybirds.’
Susanne Madsen is a freelance writer and editor. She has spent more than 20 years working across fashion and lifestyle, writing for titles including the Wall Street Journal, Dazed, Another Man, GQ Style, RUM, Re-Edition and Elle. Born in Denmark, she has lived in the UK since 2002 and has contributed to a number of books, among them Fashion Stylists: History, Meaning & Practice and Collecting Fashion: Nostalgia, Passion, Obsession. A lifelong horsewoman, she also writes extensively about equestrian sport and is working on her first book about horses.
