Regal, romantic and oh so extravagant: Why a tiara can’t fail to make you feel special

Of all the many types of jewellery in the world, nothing says glamour, elegance or luxury like a tiara. Some experts believe that the reason tiaras are (literally) jewellery’s crowning glory is because they are worn on the head and are, therefore, more visible. Others reference the tiara’s association with divinity and its similarity to a halo. All point to the connection between tiaras and royalty.

However, for me, the answer is much simpler: a tiara always has the effect of making the wearer (no matter how accomplished or attractive) feel as if they are truly special.

My grandmother used to say that when she put on a tiara she became a different person: more graceful, more beautiful, more confident. As anyone who attended one of Elton John’s annual White Tie and Tiara Balls — a sort of tiara Xanadu — in the noughties will attest: tiaras can also be whimsical, entertaining, even fun.

And, of course, generally speaking, a tiara is likely to be the largest, least worn (with the possible exception of Dame Vivienne Westwood, who was frequently spotted cycling through London sporting one of her own design) and most expensive piece of jewellery that any of us will ever possess.

In short, for sheer extravagance, you can’t beat a tiara. This has been the case for well over three millennia. The jewellers of ancient Greece created beautiful gold tiaras: intertwined ears of wheat (sacred to Demeter, the goddess of the harvest) and branches of olive (for Athena), oak (for Zeus) and myrtle (for Aphrodite).

Floral tiaras — the flowers often mounted on trembler springs so that they fluttered as if in a breeze — were worn at banquets and weddings. The Romans adopted the tiara as the ultimate indication of rank and, for them, it became synonymous with imperial authority.

According to the jewellery historian Diana Scarisbrick, during the Middle Ages, every well-born woman expected to receive a coronal or jewelled garland as part of her dowry.

In the 16th century, tiaras were replaced by billiments (fancy, deeply unflattering headbands) and aigrettes (feathered hat ornaments), but by the middle of the 18th century, they were once again the height of fashion.

During this period, thanks to the discovery of diamonds in Brazil and the wider availability of coloured gemstones and pearls, tiara design went through something of a revolution. Gold (and silver) ceased to be the dominant element and became the framework into which gemstones could be set to best advantage.

The effect at court and other formal events must have been dazzling. Every married woman present would have been wearing a tiara — each one sparkling and flashing in the candlelight. For, until recently, there was always a strict etiquette surrounding tiaras. They were only to be worn by brides on their wedding day and by married women — and then only after dark.

It was Napoleon, or rather his wife, Joséphine, who did much to establish the popularity of tiaras. She wore a fabulous pearl-and-diamond tiara to her coronation in 1804, and between then and her death, she was given or commissioned countless others.

Her favourite jeweller was Marie-Étienne Nitot, whose creativity and skill took tiaras to another level. His firm eventually became Chaumet, which has probably produced more tiaras than any other jewellery house in the world. Indeed, it has just launched a dramatic blue enamel and diamond winged tiara called Envol.

Tiara is, of course, an umbrella term. There is the diadem (essentially a band), circlet (runs around the head), bandeau (a low, flat headband), kokoshnik (tall and broad), fringe (upright, graduated bars radiating from a horizontal base), halo (see the Cartier halo tiara of 1936 worn by Catherine, now The Princess of Wales, in 2011), wreath (self-explanatory), garland (swags, loops and bows), scroll (openwork built from volutes), meander (a geometric repeating pattern) and probably several others I have forgotten.

Many were designed as part of a set of jewels, or parure, featuring a particular pattern or gemstone; others for those in mourning.

As it was the custom to set the largest and finest gems into tiaras, for the past 300 years or so, jewellers have been adept at creating pieces that could be taken apart and worn in other ways. The Girls of Great Britain and Ireland Tiara, for example, which was made by Garrard in 1893 and presented as a wedding gift to the future Queen Mary, converted into a necklace, coronet and bandeau.

My favourite tiara, however, is less versatile. Commissioned by the sixth Duke of Devonshire for Maria, Countess Granville, and made by C. F. Hancock, using diamonds, cameos and intaglios acquired by the second duke, it epitomises the English neo-Renaissance style and caused a sensation at the Emperor of Russia’s coronation in 1856.

But, then, I have never seen a tiara that doesn’t cause a sensation.

It is the ‘year of the tiara’, but what’s a girl (or guy) to do if they don’t have an heirloom laying about? You can read all about Felix Bischof's search for his own, here.

This feature originally appeared in the August 12, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.