By Máté Bikkes

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The Looney Story of Stripes

Stripes are all over the place. From kitchen towels through the most eloquent hotel interiors to beach parasols, they radiate great taste without trying too hard.
Blue-white striped beach parasols
© 2026 Everyday Parisian

Stripes, like many other design elements from our daily, often professional, life, have a fun story to tell. Throughout its existence, stripes have come to signify social exclusion, wealth, association with the military, and, eventually, to a certain extent, lose their previously enmeshed meaning to be simply appreciated by many—including me, who wears a black and white horizontal striped T-shirt from bric-a-brac while writing this.

Resurrection Underway

Stripes have, or will have, a resurrection as circus aesthetics are on the rise in 2026 according to Pinterest Predicts.

But there is nothing new in the use of stripes as they have been with us since ancient times. Originally, in the Middle Ages, wearing stripes served to distinguish the socially excluded from commoners and were worn by prostitutes, clowns, heretics, and, quite surprisingly considering the societal role they fulfil today, musicians, plus many more—these were the Middle Ages, so there were many ‘many more’.

In the late(er) Middle Ages, the enforcement of wearing clothes that separated classes, distinguished individuals, and set societal boundaries was supported by the Sumptuary Laws. However, following the plague in the 14th century in Europe, perhaps due to the almost (or more than) halved population, people’s wealth increased. And to flaunt it?—of course, people started donning stripes. So, the pattern once symbolising the socially excluded population now came to be part of showing off wealth in ways of peacocking.

A 14th-century painting of Italian musicians (via Veranda)
Drawing of a young, stylish 14th-century Italian man (via Veranda)

Originally, in the Middle Ages, wearing stripes served to
distinguish the socially excluded from commoners.

Stripes in Functional Roles

Later in the millennium, stripes served a functional role. In the 18th century North America, for example, prisoners wore striped uniforms that were easy to recognise in case of a jailbreak. They were also made to wear these as an attempt to humiliate them and, some argue, the stripes represented the bars of the cells. Later, the functionality became not to ease the recognition of someone who was on the loose but when someone was overboard. Namely, it was the 19th century French navy who started using stripes—the so-called marinière (you may know it as the Breton stripes)—for its visibility. These shirts were also symbolic for the French as they consisted of 20-21 blue—symbolising Napoleonic victories—and 15 white stripes.

© Heddels

From Function to Fashion

Now, let’s move on to some more everyday. Around the same time, in the early 20th century, in the years leading up to the Jazz Age, Coco Chanel introduced a sailor-themed leisure collection, popularising the look amongst the wealthy, Riviera-sunburnt population—she had been incorporating the style into her designs since as early as 1913. Some, however, attribute the success of stripes to Queen Victoria decades before Chanel’s collection. “In 1846, the queen had a sailor suit made for her son, Edward Albert, Prince of Wales,” writes Lauren Wicks in Veranda, “to be worn on the royal yacht as a surprise for her husband. Prince Albert loved the costume so much that he had a portrait of the boy commissioned in it.”

Coco Chanel at her French villa in 1930 © Getty Images
Edward Albert, Prince of Wales ©Getty Images

Regardless of who created the lasting frenzy, a wealthy American couple, the Murphys, Sara and Gerald, are usually argued to have contributed to the success of stripes after they moved to the French Riviera where the style was already embraced by the locals. After a trip to Marseille for boat supplies, they returned with marinière pieces and introduced them to their friends—other wealthy Americans—including the Fitzgeralds (yeah, the F. Scott).

In the 20’s U.S., maybe as a result of the Murphys’ influence, love for the Breton aesthetics grew. “Striped ties became part of male fashion,” writes Sue Donnelly, “and were worn as part of a school uniform, first at public schools, then at universities. As they continued to wear striped attire in their professional and personal lives, stripes became associated with luxury and high fashion.”

Embraced by both the middle class and the wealthy, and incorporated into the world of mobsters, the design once again fulfilled a role bigger than itself: it separated people. The latter group preferred narrow, more delicate stripes whilst the former, who by any means were perceived as scums, were dressed in wide stripes.

©Ernest Sisto/Getty Images
©Getty Images

Difference in stripe density between Frank Costello (boss of Luciano crime family) and a young girl featuring on a Kodak advertising

Stripes in Interior Design

Of course, interiors are no exception to the beloved design. Due to its influence on perception, vertical stripes have the ability to increase volume and make a room feel larger than it is, while the horizontal stripes have the power to make a space feel more intimate. Imagine walking into a store where the ceiling is covered in stripes along the store’s length and it feels like they are trying to make contact in the back: it makes the store feel longer and more immersive. Of course, the use of stripes is not always as delicate (but still mesmerising) as expected, like the Charlottenhof Palace’s “Tent Room” designed by Karl Friedrich Schinkel in the mid-19th century.

The “Tent Room” in the Charlottenhof Palace, Celia Rogge © SPSG

Stripes in Art

In art, the deliberate, often disorienting, use of stripes gained momentum with the emergence of op art, and names like Jesús Rafael Soto, Victor Vasarely, and Bridget Riley stand out.

There is something uncannily immersive in this art. What the members of op art highlight, and what I personally feel looking at these pieces—reminding me of my studies in neuroscience and visual perception—is how easily deceivable we are: I see movement in a still image, I find not a single focus point, I feel small, and annoyed and mesmerised at the same time by a few lines. Michael Bracewell puts it better: “the viewer has been made aware of an immensity of visual possibilities: an experience not dissimilar to looking at the stars in a clear night sky, or the expanse of the sea, or of clouds.”

Bridget Riley, La Lune (1965) ©Artsy // Riley’s work “about states of being, states of composure and disturbance” in the early 60’s insisted on the use of black and white, which she later expanded with the introduction of colours.

Regardless of your relationship to stripes, they are all over the place and may as well come back, doubling down on their influence, making your outfit more interesting, your home more deliberate, your wall decoration more immersive. Or maybe it will guide you into a fantasy world where you can pretend to be a mobster or a member of the French Navy, or both—but really, stripes, and the love for them, never left.

Read what we read

FipigroubBBCHarpers BazaarHistory RepeatingVerandaThe Good Life FranceThat’s Not My AgeThe Good Trade; TateTate

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