For a scrap of fabric that exists solely to circle your neck, the collar has a history that is anything but modest. From status symbols to sweat-stained shirt edges , collars have been through it all. And today, we can still trace their dramatic transformations through the ages, immortalized in museum portraits of men, women, and children from every era.
Before the 1400s, collars weren't really a thing. Men's necklines ranged from high to what we'd call today a scoop or boat neck. Shirts didn’t need collars because, frankly, there wasn’t much need for them.
By the mid-1500s, the ruff had emerged as the first true collar, evolving from simple shirt gathers at the neck into a separate accessory tied around the throat. What began as a practical way to keep garments clean soon caught on as a fashion trend, spreading from Spain to the rest of Europe. Early ruffs were modest in size and easy to launder, but not for long.
But what began as a modest pleated trim soon escalated into a theatrical halo of linen, lace, and starch...
The cartwheel ruff especially turned heads (and made turning your own head quite difficult). Popular from 1580 to 1610, these oversized collars were stiffened with starch, layered into hundreds of pleats, and could stretch up to a foot from the neck. The finer the linen, the more elite the wearer, with embroidery, jewels, and even precious metals adding to the extravagance.
They were as impractical as they were impressive. Wearing one meant assuming a proud, rigid posture, and making eating or moving your head nearly impossible. Often, ruffs could only be worn once before collapsing from heat and humidity.
Of course, not everyone was impressed. In the 1580s, Englishmen sporting these oversized neck donuts were mocked in France as “the English monster.” Fair.
As the ruff lost its hold (and the neck regained its freedom), a new style emerged: the falling band. Flat, soft, and often edged in lace, it was a welcome shift, easier to wear, easier to clean, and far less theatrical.
By the mid-1600s, these relaxed collars, sometimes called fallen ruffs, had taken over. Men wore them first, but women soon followed. Over time, this style continued to simplify, eventually giving rise to jabots and cravats…
In the 18th century, Enlightenment ideals ushered in a more restrained approach to dress. Out went lace, excess, and flamboyant ruffs. In came simplicity, refinement, and the cravat, a modest white neckcloth first worn by 17th c. croat cavalry, that set the stage for the modern tie.
In the 1830s, a woman named Hannah Montague had a stroke of domestic genius: the detachable collar. Tired of constantly washing her husband's entire shirt, she cut off the grimy collar and stitched on a clean, starched one instead. It worked, and it caught on fast.
This clever hack offered the look of a freshly laundered shirt with a fraction of the effort. Soon, crisp, removable collars became a menswear staple and a subtle status symbol.
By the 1930s, fashion loosened up. As the Duke of Windsor put it, “We were all beginning to ‘dress soft'". Stiff, starched collars faded, and René Lacoste’s polo shirt kicked off the casual revolution.
Around the same time, “white collar” and “blue collar” emerged, terms born less from style than from laundry. Office workers wore crisp whites, while laborers opted for darker, practical fabrics.
Collars grew more relaxed, dress codes blurred, but the collar never vanished, it simply adapted.
The collar lives on, crisp or rumpled, buttoned-up or barely there. It still says something, whether it's "hire me," "brunch time," or "yes, this is vintage." And thanks to period dramas and runway revivals, even the ruff has staged a comeback. One person's historical hassle is another's fashion fantasy.
There’s no nice way to put it: in medieval art, babies were pretty damn ugly.
But why?
It’s not because artists hadn’t worked out how to paint them properly – in fact, this was a deliberate stylistic choice… In medieval artwork, one baby popped up a whole lot more than the others: Jesus Christ.
There was a popular notion that Jesus was born “perfectly formed” and remained “unchanged” over time; this led to artists depicting him as a sort of weird little old man – and influenced portrayals of other babies too!
This all changed with the dawn of the Renaissance, and a new emphasis on realism in art.
Plus, as artists began to embrace non-religious subjects, wealthy patrons could commission portraits of their own families – and they didn’t want their own children looking like little old men!
So, ugly babies were out and cute babies were in. Way less disturbing, but nowhere near as fun…
In 1642, Captain Frans Banning Cocq commissioned Rembrandt to paint his civic guard company. Eighteen militiamen paid to be included, expecting equal prominence in a traditional group portrait. Instead, Rembrandt created a dynamic action scene with dramatic lighting that highlighted some figures while obscuring others in shadow.
The men in the shadows weren't pleased. They'd paid the same fee (roughly 100 guilders each, about $2,000 today) but appeared as mere background characters. Some were so dark you could barely make-out their faces. This wasn't just bad positioning: it was a social insult in 17th-century Amsterdam.
The painting's strangest element is a small girl in a golden dress, illuminated by mysterious light, wearing a dead chicken at her belt (a symbol of the civic guard). No one paid for her inclusion. Who is she? Art historians have debated for centuries. Some believe she's Rembrandt's deceased wife Saskia, who died that same year, inserted as a ghostly presence.
Recent analysis suggests the painting may reference a real scandal. The chicken claws on the girl's belt form a symbol that in 17th-century Amsterdam was code language used by members of a particular civic guard faction. The way certain figures' hands are positioned may indicate secret society signs. Was Rembrandt documenting internal power struggles and betrayals within the guard?
After the painting was delivered, Rembrandt's career mysteriously declined. He never received another major commission from Amsterdam's elite. Coincidence?
There’s something undeniably romantic about wandering into a gallery without any idea of what you want to see. Alas, this is a sure-fire way to miss-out on some of the best exhibits, and a one-way-ticket to cultural burnout.
Alright, this one might seem a bit obvious… but when some paintings are worth upwards of 100 million big ones, it’s definitely worth repeating.
Some people like to experience art in a vacuum – but reading-up on the context behind a particular work can transform and enrich our understanding of it.
For example, Edvard Munch’s The Sick Child hits so much harder when you know that it was based on his own sister, while Paul Gauguin’s dodgy personal life completely changes how we view his paintings of Tahiti.
But if you find traditional gallery labels a bit stale, you’re not alone. Download MuseMuse for bite-sized breakdowns of all your favourite pieces, packed full of fun facts and juicy gossip!
A gallery isn’t a library – so if you want to discuss a painting with your friend, or argue about whether we should cancel Picasso, then knock yourself out. But try to keep it down, and try to keep it on topic – because it’s hard to focus on the art when someone’s barking into a mobile phone, or debating what to have for dinner!
Visiting a gallery shouldn’t be an endurance test. Make sure to take a seat every now and then – and if you find yourself seriously flagging, a trip to the café is a great opportunity to refuel and recharge.
Last but not least, we’ve got the art gallery equivalent of manspreading. There’s usually more than enough space for multiple visitors to take in a painting – but then someone decides to stand directly in front of it, blocking everyone else’s view.
Obviously, this is incredibly annoying: so make sure that this someone isn’t you!
So, there you have it – the MuseMuse guide to the dos and don’ts of the gallery world. With these top tips, you’re ready to make the most of your visit. But don’t get too hung up on etiquette: the most important thing is to enjoy yourself!
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