In 2026, a brooch has better places to be than a lapel

A recent encounter in Paris reminded me how the brooch—that old-world-y, grandmotherly accessory—could instantly make an outfit go from boring to beguiling. I was at a friend’s store launch in the Marais, when a woman wearing a sleeveless white smocked dress passed by. On her hip, hitching the midi-length dress higher, was a gold brooch. And just like that, she’d employed a long-forgotten artform of pinching and pricking to elevate something as simple as a white cotton dress into something…chic.

The last time I’d seen someone use a brooch so artfully was model Lakshmi Menon at the launch of the NMACC’s India in Fashion exhibition: a pink sari with a gold border, draped in the pre-colonial style without the underpinnings of a petticoat and blouse, secured and held together at the shoulder with a traditional brooch.

I realised then, in an era dominated by algorithmically ubiquitous trends and hyper-sanitised “clean girl” aesthetics, we have tragically underused fashion’s most kinetic object. The brooch, now more than ever, feels deliciously, defiantly anti-AI. It is tactile, deliberate, and fiercely expressive, demanding the living, breathing architecture of human hands to pinch, twist, clasp, cinch, and drape fabric into new forms.

So, I looked to get my own clever formations in place with brooches I’ve come to love through studio visits, conversations with designers, or reading editors’ takes on the most beautiful brooches around right now.

“We wanted to look at the brooch as an object because we felt like it needed updating,” says India Ayles, co-founder of Sigla Studios, a jewellery brand started by two friends across Milan and London. “It’s like wearing a mini window or a portable artwork that you can just pin anywhere,” the former costume designer explains.

The impulse to pin is as ancient as human adornment itself—from the Roman fibula that held unseamed togas together without a single stitch, to Victorian mourning jewels carrying woven locks of hair. As fine jewellery consultant Ilona Gowrie-Smith notes, “Brooches are a really personal form of jewellery. They’re like mementos.” For a client who was looking to illustrate their love for painting, quite literally, with jewellery, she recently hunted down palette brooches.

Modern craftsmanship preserves intimate human touch. “Our birds are made by someone literally soldering all the pieces and mosaicing them together by hand. It’s all done by one person in a studio in Puglia,” Ayles tells me, adding how a single pin can break the monotony of a uniform outfit.

Lately, my own wardrobe has become an ongoing laboratory for these monotony-breaking experiments. Standing in front of the mirror with Yvonne Léon’s ‘Python’ pin, I thought to myself: where can a snake-head pin slither on my person without feeling daunting? The answer revealed itself closer to my feet, clipped onto my wide-leg jeans, adding an unexpected detail to the classic shape of a pair of daily denims.

On warmer days, I tend to lean into a more demure, breezy vibe, pairing a block-printed bralette from PDKF Studio and fluid linen trousers with Sigla’s ‘Sky Blue Dove’ brooch. Rather than fastening buttons, I loop the dove through a single buttonhole near my navel on my pink sheer shirt, letting the lightweight cloth fall free and unencumbered for an effortless summer vibe. I’ve even attached the same brooch to the understated leather strap of a pair of sandals, transforming the simple flats into unexpected, dressier footwear.

The possibilities compound the moment you stop treating the brooch as a static lapel ornament. I’ve taken Anabela Chan’s ‘Pearl Blades of Grass’ brooch and pinned it to the lapel of my navy-blue trench coat for a classic, structural look, only to unpin it hours later to cinch the excess fabric across the back of the coat in place of a belt, giving the boxy silhouette instant shape. That same pearl sprig finds a home pinned onto a white lace pochette, giving soft cotton an heirloom quality.

Even a graphic tee can get hitched with the industrial charm of The Ouze’s hand-cast ‘Rosette’ brooch. And above it all, the summer bandana gets an upgrade—against a vibrant, block-printed Banjanan headscarf, I pinned Sigla’s ‘Jonquil Sprig of Hope’ brooch along the side fold, immediately transforming the simple square of cotton into something bespoke.

Of course, the intervention isn’t entirely without its mild anxieties. The brooch has an unforgiving tendency to leave tiny punctures in any fine weave. However, a bit of research revealed that some woven fabrics possess a surprising memory. After gently massaging the surrounding threads of my sheer shirt, the fibres softened right back into place, the brooch’s presence on it an ephemeral reality. So, all in all, I’d say, the brooch wins every time!