30/10/2025
Before it became a Halloween costume, the pointed hat was a symbol of knowledge — a marker of those who walked between worlds.
In the old villages, the women who brewed, healed, and listened to the earth often covered their heads as a sign of respect for spirit. Their hats were tall and practical — keeping herbs dry, rain off their shoulders, and a sense of dignity in their craft.
Some say the pointed hat traces back to the cone-shaped headdresses worn by ancient priestesses and wise women — symbols of connection between heaven and earth. Others whisper that it echoes the duns and cairns, the sacred mounds that rose from the soil like earthen spires, marking places of power and burial.
Over time, these women — the midwives, the brewers, the herbalists — began to stand out. In marketplaces, they wore distinctive, tall hats so villagers could see them in the crowd and seek their remedies or wisdom. The hat became a sign of their trade, their skill, their presence.
But when the tides turned — when the church grew wary of women’s power and independence — that same symbol was twisted. The pointed hat, once a crown of knowing, became a mark of shame. The Wise Woman became the “witch,” and her visibility — the very thing that once connected her to her community — was recast as threat.
Yet the truth endures. The hat’s point still reaches upward, a symbol of spirit and intuition, while its wide brim shields and grounds. It is the meeting place of above and below — heaven and hearth, knowing and mystery.
So when you see the silhouette of a witch in her tall, dark hat beneath the October moon, remember what she really wears:
a crown of wisdom.
a marker of lineage.
a reminder that women’s knowing once stood tall — and will again.
