Veils are among the oldest pieces of wedding wear, tracing all the way back to Ancient Greece, yet they still matter to even the boldest modern bride. Singer Lily Allen wore a short, Sixties-style Dior jacket over a mini skirt when she said I do to actor David Harbour at a playful Elvis-themed 2020 Las Vegas ceremony.
Gwen Stefani, who chose a bright pink-and-white dip-dyed gown, matched the colors exactly by adding a floor-length veil coaxed by her designer friend. Lauren Bezos Sanchez was the latest celebrity bride to raise clouds of tulle over her head in Venice during her lavish weekend wedding, a nod to traditions that stretch back centuries.
Queen Victoria swapped her formal velvet robe for a creamy silk dress in 1840, and its wide, shoulder-baring neck was edged with lace almost like an early off-the-shoulder style. On that day she was simply a devoted bride courting Prince Albert, not yet the historic monarch, which is part of why she chose white to signal a pure heart. Many variations that Victoria popularized only became fresh again through modern twists, and hems are moving up as the mini wedding dress outpaces longer styles at relaxed celebrations. While some brides skip the dress, walking down the aisle in tailored suits instead.
Historian Amanda Chrisman-Campbell said that veils already returned a few seasons back, and they kept whispering in smaller collections. In centuries past they identified who owned time and lace. European aristocrats draped handmade pieces so intricate that by the late 1700s certain yards were traded for their weight in gold.
Ancient Greeks used the flammeum—bright orange wool—to shield brides from wandering spirits, nerves, and ill omens. From one culture to the next, the fabric still slips over the bride's face just before a planned marriage. Because veils travel across eras and geographies, they pick up new stories—hidden secrets, tools of control, symbols of modesty, and signs of wealth. Even if Chrisman-Campbell disagrees with all the ideas attached, she is honest about the threads of purity still woven into them. For a long time, it was a big no-no for women who were marrying again to wear veils, thinking it wasn't right if they were not first-time brides.
There was once a firm rule against wearing a veil if you had been married before. Second brides were told they could not wear white, carry flowers, or choose a floor-length gown. For her next wedding in 1964, Elizabeth Taylor ignored that, slipping on a bright yellow chiffon number and weaving daisies into her braid. Around the same time, in 1962, Audrey Hepburn respected the old code by picking a short pink Givenchy dress and a silk scarf when she wed the Italian psychiatrist Andrea Dotti.
By the 1980s, the notion that repeat brides must dress plainly had begun to fade, and the strict guidelines lost much of their bite. One vivid example of a third-time bride who went all out was Angelina Jolie. She changed how people read the veil, no longer seeing it only as a sign of shyness or purity, said photographer Chrisman-Campbell, and that shift mirrored a fresh view of marriage itself. Now, he added, a wedding often includes children from earlier unions, turning the day into a larger gathering in which two families join hands as much as two individuals do.