I have seen them in Los Angeles and in Austin, Texas. Egrets. We do not have them back in Germany. It was a beautiful moment for me to witness these birds. It is also beautiful that I get the privilege of seeing them quite close to where I live now, on a small nature trail. When writing about egrets and fashion history, and about animals in fashion more broadly, one must learn to see the animal as itself before seeing what it represents.

Not only am I amazed by the beauty of egrets and their seemingly peaceful existence, but also happy to see that I am not alone in feeling that. There are many bird watchers in that area. There they are, in their round signature hats to protect against the relentless Texas sun, their binoculars hanging on little cords so they do not fall and are always within reach, their field vests and beige pants with what must be forty pockets, and their often enormous cameras.

Egrets and Fashion History

My interest for Fashion Bestiary, however, lies not primarily in the birds themselves, as I am not a serious bird watcher, let alone an ornithologist or biologist. I study people. I study the people who study birds. The fascination with these birds was a byproduct of my study, as I also studied the people who wore birds.

The term egret stems from the French word aigrette, a diminutive of aigron (héron; heron), therefore meaning “little heron.” More importantly, it would become a generic term for any feather that adorns a hat. The German term for the smaller, snowy egret is Schmuckreiher, which translates to “adornment heron.” Etymology is a great indicator of a culture that now seems so distant to us. These birds bear that very name because they were once worn.

What’s in a name?

This is a form of nominative determinism, where we name things according to their purpose. They were meant to make us more beautiful. In a way, this is still true, as they now decorate our paths. Their purpose is still to please our eyes. They are deeply fashionable, after all. Animals, I would argue, should be viewed as more than objects, more than mirrors of human emotions or projections of our values. They simply are.

The view that animals possess an existence independent of human interpretation or utility, however, is not my main expertise. I want to study them and fashion with animals in general in what the French school of thought calls the longue durée, their history throughout history and the cultures they were part of.

“Do you know how important you are for human history?”, I want to say to them. I probably will not be able to make the egret aware of its role in fashion history, and after all, why should I burden it? From the egret’s point of view, it is a horrifying story. What I can do, however, is make other humans aware of that story. Because there is a lot to be learned here.

All photographs in this essay were taken by me during walks in Los Angeles and Austin, along the beaches, small trails and ponds where egrets gather. Seeing them in person, after having written about egrets and fashion history, has deepened my appreciation for egrets. It feels like an example of theory turning into practice.

Read the corresponding Substack article here.