The Red Beret: Icon, Tradition, and Identity

Below a 2021 (free translated) article in La Esparanza, a catholic-monarchist magazine. Not my usual fare, but it makes for an interesting read.

Carlist cavalry charge, Ferrer Dalmau

The Red Beret: Icon, Tradition, and Identity

Fashion designers call the beret an iconic garment—an accessory with political and artistic weight, tied to bravery and resistance to unjust power. Even Christian Dior considered the red beret a timeless classic.

The beret, known as bonnaid or buinne in Gaelic and boneta in Basque, is an ancient headpiece of noble origin. Archaeological finds in Sardinia show Neolithic elites buried with their berets and weapons, while Persian kings, including Artaxerxes, were depicted in berets during lion hunts. Like the mushroom cap that inspired its design, the beret’s shape offered natural, practical protection from rain and sun.

Across Europe, nobility embraced it. Queen Margaret of Navarre wore a wide black beret five centuries ago, as did her husband Henry II. Artists such as Holbein the Elder captured prominent figures crowned with berets nearly identical to today’s. Mountaineers of the Basque Country, the Scottish Highlands, and Brittany prized the broad wool cap as protection from relentless rain and wind.

The red beret in particular carries layers of symbolism. In 1920, the silent film Pour Don Carlos set fashion trends when actress Musidora donned one on screen. French designers quickly popularized vermilion berets in Paris and Hollywood. My own mother cherished hers as a child in the 1920s—a brilliant red gift from her hat-making uncles. Its vivid dye came from Rubia tinctorum, a plant cultivated across Spain. The same deep red was also used to color candied apples at local fairs.

Carlists helped establish the beret as a political and cultural emblem. Their preferred red caps—alongside white, blue, and black—were produced by skilled artisans from the “Beret Belt” of northern Spain and southern France: Tolosa, Valmaseda, Oloron, Pradoluengo, and Ezcaray. In the 1930s, these towns manufactured millions of berets annually, exporting them as far as Argentina, where gauchos adopted them as part of their traditional attire. Industrial decline and modernism later pushed the beret into neglect, but its legacy endured.

Military forces also recognized its value. The beret’s snug fit and visibility made it ideal for soldiers, especially paratroopers, who favored red for its boldness and practicality. Yet for Carlists, the red beret held both strategic and symbolic meaning. From above, the color stood out in rugged mountains; from below, it blended with shadows. Local guerrillas even mimicked the call of the black woodpecker—nicknamed the “Carlist bird” for its own red crest—to signal attacks.

The beret’s association with Carlism also provoked repression. In 1838, the liberal general Espartero banned the garment outright, punishing wearers with heavy fines. Liberal caricatures mocked Carlists with berets and umbrellas, portraying them as backward compared to well-equipped foreign troops. Yet the beret persisted, gradually displacing the industrial worker’s cap in factories and reasserting itself as a marker of identity.

Today, the red beret still attracts attention for its flattering style and vibrant symbolism. It remains a festive, noble, and political garment—worn on Sundays, in parades, in battle, and at gatherings as a statement of heritage. For many in the Hispanic world, donning the beret is an act of resistance against cultural erosion, a way of affirming identity in the face of global homogenization.