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When I was a fashion student in the mid-noughties, there was one accessory that inspired devotion like nothing else. The Alexander McQueen skull scarf was pervasive, worn by everyone—the magazine editors I interned for, the celebrities whose style I admired, and the rich kids at fashion school. Its versatility meant that you were as likely to see it in the office as much as you were a grimy, smokey basement bar in the East Village. Wearers draped it louchely around the neck, slung it around the waist like a belt, or twisted it over the straps of Chloé Paddington bags. In a few short years, it became a defining accessory of the decade. Now, more than twenty later, it has been revived by a new generation who want a piece of its rebellious, pirate-inspired aesthetic. It’s official: the skull scarf has earned its place as a design classic.
To understand the significance of McQueen’s skull scarf, it’s important to first recognize the importance of the skull to the brand’s DNA. Lee McQueen began referencing the skull as a key motif in the ’90s when his brand was in its infancy. His famed 1992 graduate collection featured skulls and bones, marking the beginning of his interest in the Victorian concept of ‘memento mori,’ the symbolic reminder of the inevitability of death and the transient nature of life. He continued to weave this theme into his future work. It was dark, but in the hands of McQueen, it was also beautiful. The skull became one of the most recognizable emblems of the house.
A decade later, the skull-print scarf debuted on the catwalk for the first time as part of the spring/summer 2003 ‘Irere’ collection. The show was influenced by shipwrecks, pirates and Roland Joffé’s period film The Mission, in which a Jesuit missionary in 18th-century South America attempts to protect a native tribe from Portuguese forces. The black and white silk scarves were intended to be representative of historical pirate flags, styled unexpectedly, tied and trailing off wide leather belts. They were a perfect symbol of McQueen; simultaneously macabre and romantic.
Like most Noughties trends, Kate Moss played a key role in its popularity. In June 2004, the supermodel, along with the choreographer Michael Clark, danced along the catwalk for McQueen’s ‘Black’ show—she in a black and white, floor-sweeping dress covered in skulls. It solidified the skull scarf as a gateway into the brand. Before long, it became one of the most sought-after accessories among every Y2K star who cared about style—Sienna Miller, Nicole Richie, Lindsay Lohan, Kim Kardashian and the Olsen twins. Moss herself continued to wear hers slung round her hips or draped round her neck.
By the time the late Noughties arrived, the skull scarf was an integral part of the ‘indie sleaze’ uniform, usually worn with skinny jeans, a vest top, a leather jacket, and bashed ballet pumps. Some of us wore ours, perhaps regrettably, with a fedora hat. Unlike other aspects of the indie sleaze look, you didn’t have to be a size zero to wear it; regardless of body type, it always delivered the same defiant grunginess. It was a sign you belonged to a certain club, one that was boundary-pushing and anti-establishment. If you were moneyed, it gave you edge. Another magic ingredient was its price point; although it was never cheap (early versions were around $185), the accessory was markedly less expensive than McQueen ready-to-wear and much easier to style, too. When Lee McQueen died in 2010, it was the scarves that saw a sales spike. They became a clearly identifiable tribute to a much-loved design legend.
Before long, what began as counter-culture moved into the mainstream and, like so many cult items, became a victim of its own success. A million knock-offs arrived, and the skull scarf hit its saturation point. The editors and celebrities packed the accessory away in drawers and, for a while at least, the skull scarf lay dormant. They continued to sell steadily at McQueen, although never quite reaching the same commercial heights as their Noughties heyday. It would take a full 20-year trend cycle for them to re-inter the zeitgeist, but 2025 has seen them undergo a renaissance.
Skull Print Wool Fringe Scarf
$390.00 at nordstrom.com
Classic Skull Silk Scarf
$390.00 at neimanmarcus.com
Women’s Skull Silk Chiffon Scarf
$395.00 at saksfifthavenue.com
Fashion-obsessed TikTokers began wearing them a few years ago, but it was Timothée Chalamet who placed the scarf firmly back in the spotlight in January this year, when he wore a houndstooth version with an oversized jacket to the Saturday Night Live 50th anniversary party, bringing them to a younger demographic. In March, the current McQueen creative director Seán McGirr reintroduced them to the catwalk, tying versions round the handles of the brand’s new Farringdon bag and creating a statement men’s shirt with a carnation green skull print, a nod to Moss’ famed 2004 skull dress.
In June, interest in the scarf soared after Charlie XCX wore one to headline Glastonbury, knotting it to the back of her bralette so that it trailed round the stage behind her as she danced. It was a perfect amalgamation of punk and romance. Its revival is part of two current trends—a wider Y2K aesthetic and the rise of the scarf in more general terms. As in the ’00s, they’re being worn as tiny tops, as belts slung over hips, or twisted round bag straps. Its appeal remains the same; the skull scarf still offers easy grunge-cool, this time with a bonus vintage layer.
Fashion’s most iconic scarf is back. Cigarette smoke, skinny jeans and fedora hats optional.
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