The Trousseau tradition:  

It is about more than dowries, doilies, and duvet covers 

Trousseau…What does it really mean? A wonderfully old-fashioned word that sounds like it belongs in a Jane Austen novel, nestled somewhere between a lace parasol and a fainting couch.  

Once the hallmark of a young woman’s preparation for married life, collecting a trousseau was both a rite of passage and a serious domestic operation. But where did it all start, and more importantly, should you still be doing it? 

Let’s unpack it all (pun absolutely intended). 

A Brief History of Trousseau 

The word “Trousseau” comes from the French word meaning “bundle,” which is exactly what it was: a bundle of carefully chosen (and often lovingly handmade) household items, clothes, and linens that a bride would bring into her marriage. Historically, the tradition can be traced back to ancient Rome, but it gained particular momentum during the Middle Ages and blossomed into full glory during the Victorian era. 

Trousseau wasn’t just a cute collection of handkerchiefs — it was a family’s public statement of readiness. It was a financial and social gesture saying, “Our daughter is well-prepared, well-bred, and well-threaded.” 

Who Collected It (And Who Sewed Until Midnight)? 

Usually, the bride herself and the women in her family took charge of the trousseau. Mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and occasionally the odd enthusiastic cousin would rally together in a whirl of embroidery hoops and lace trim. In some cultures, collecting a trousseau began the moment a girl was born — a lifetime of monogrammed pillowcases just waiting for a wedding date! 

In wealthier families, tailors and seamstresses were employed. In others, it was a labour of love and domestic pride. The amount of cross-stitching that went into a single tea towel would make your thumb cramp just thinking about it. 

What Did It Entail? 

Think of it as the ultimate starter pack: 

• Bedding and linens (sheets, pillowcases, quilts) 

• Clothing (especially nightwear, undergarments, and modest dresses) 

• Tablecloths and napkins 

• Towels, doilies, and more doilies 

• Occasionally crockery and silverware 

In some cultures, the trousseau included everything from copper pots to ceremonial jewellery. The idea was to set the bride up with the essentials she’d need to run a proper household — preferably one that smelled faintly of lavender sachets and had a never-ending supply starched napkins. 

Where was it kept? 

This is our favourite part of the Trousseau tradition: The glorious Hope Chest. A sturdy wooden box, often cedar-lined and beautifully carved. This chest was more than just storage; it was a symbol of anticipation, hope, and sometimes even negotiation (some extravagant trousseaux were considered part of the dowry and factored into marital arrangements). 

Sometimes the chest lived at the foot of the bed, growing heavier with each passing birthday and every embroidery project. It was a private, sacred space… guarded with a suspicious eye against younger siblings playing pirates and cats looking for a place to have kittens.  

Handmade or collected? 

The best trousseaux were a mix of both. Hand-stitched linens, lovingly knit shawls, and heirloom lace coexisted with shop-bought soaps and specialty items. The mix depended on the family’s means and time, and whether the bride had the patience of a saint or the sewing skills of a thumb-less squirrel. 

The value of a trousseau 

Back then, a trousseau wasn’t just sentimental — it was seriously practical. It was the difference between starting married life from scratch versus hitting the ground running with a full linen closet and a pie dish for every neighbour.  

Emotionally, the trousseau was also symbolic: a young woman’s transition from daughter to wife. It was her identity stitched into every seam — her tastes, values, and vision for her future home. 

The modern-day trousseau: flatpack and freedom 

While we may not embroider pillowcases anymore, the modern equivalent of a trousseau lives on — just with fewer ruffles and more @Home receipts. 

Today’s “starter kits” might not come in a carved cedar chest, but they include: 

• Bed linen sets (matching optional) 

• Kitchen gadgets (hello, air fryer!) 

• Homeware basics like plates, mugs, and cleaning supplies 

• A few decorative touches that scream “me” (whether that’s pastel scatter cushions or horror movie posters) 

Rather than preparing for marriage, many now build a trousseau as they prepare to move out, whether it’s to study, start work, or simply live independently.  

The spirit of preparation and pride in one’s space is still the same. 

So, is it still a thing? 

In many cultures (especially in rural or traditional areas), the idea of a trousseau still holds strong. In South Africa, for example, the concept is alive in various communities, with families contributing blankets, cookware, or decorative items as part of lobola negotiations or wedding gifts. 

In urban settings, it’s more DIY and gradual — people collect things over time, guided more by Pinterest boards and Black Friday deals than formal tradition.  

But the joy of collecting for your future? That never went out of style. 

What counts as a sensible “trousseau” for moving out? 

Whether you’re flying the nest or simply moving down the street, here’s a modern checklist for your adulting starter kit: 

• A Decent Set of Bed Linen – Two sets, if you’re fancy. Crisp sheets make life feel less chaotic. 

• Essential Kitchenware – Frying pan, saucepan, sharp knife, cutting board, kettle, and at least two mugs. 

• Towels – Big, fluffy ones. At least two. Don’t be the person using hand towels for everything. 

• Tool Kit – Screwdrivers, pliers, a hammer, and a healthy sense of scepticism about flatpack instructions. 

• Cleaning Supplies – Broom, mop, toilet brush (yes, you need one), and a multipurpose spray that smells like lemony ambition. 

Top Tip: Bonus Items: First aid kit, laundry basket, Your favourite family recipes in a spill proof plastic sleeve. 

The tradition of collecting a trousseau may have evolved from lovingly hand-stitched linen in a carved Hope Chest, to basic essentials in a fast-moving trolley in the home section of Game, but the sentiment remains. It’s not just about stuff; it’s about preparing for independence, creating a space that reflects who you are, and stepping boldly into the next phase of life. 

So whether you’re filling a hope chest or just a couple of flat-pack drawers, remember: it’s your story stitched into your space. And that, dear reader, is the very best kind of trousseau of all. 

Find meaning in the moving out. 

There’s something hilariously beautiful about the chaos of moving out and starting from scratch — whether you’re flying solo with nothing but a borrowed kettle and a laundry basket full of mismatched socks or moving in with a partner who insists the neon beanbag is “vintage.” Either way, you’re diving headfirst into that magical, messy rite of passage: building a life of your own. 

At first, it’s humbling. You suddenly develop deep emotional relationships with things like extension cords, Tupperware lids that actually fit, and the one saucepan that never burns everything. You learn that dishwashing liquid is not, in fact, multipurpose. And that yes, you do need more than one towel if you want to live like a civilized human. 

It’s ok to be a work in progress. 

You argue with your partner about which way the toilet paper should face (it’s over, obviously) and spend Sundays figuring out how to remove spaghetti sauce from beige wall paint. Or, if you’re solo, you speak to your appliances like pets and throw impromptu dinner parties with friends where everyone sits on the floor, drinking box wine out of mugs. There’s charm in the struggle — in realizing that you’re slowly, quietly becoming the architect of your own little kingdom. Moving out forces you to meet a new version of yourself.  

Give yourself a break 

The things you collect, whether it is inherited pots, a chipped teapot from your gran, or your brand-new bedsheets from a January sale become your modern-day trousseau. A little mismatched, a little makeshift, but entirely your own. A collection of things you didn’t just buy, but earned, by braving the gauntlet of adulting. 

So, whether you start with a full hope chest or just some hopeful dreams, remember: the magic isn’t in what you have. It’s in the scrappy, funny, deeply satisfying journey of building something from nothing. One tea towel, curtain hook, and crockpot at a time.