Every year on or around the 25th of November, the French fashion industry hosts a kind of runway show just for itself. Wearing mostly green-and-yellow hats — the color combination is said to represent either family and hope or faith and wisdom, depending on which milliner you ask — young people from the Parisian luxury houses gather at City Hall to celebrate St. Catherine’s Day, a Catholic holiday dating to the Middle Ages that was first observed by the couture industry in the late 19th century. Historically, the Catherinettes, as they’re known — single women, each 25 years old and working in one of the city’s then-dozens of haute couture ateliers — were granted a rare opportunity to meet their bosses before getting the rest of the day off to enjoy street parties, all while wearing opulent, often garish hats that were sometimes personalized to represent their individual skills or interests, or at least their house’s codes. (In the late 1940s, Schiaparelli’s Catherinettes wore oversize versions of the designer Elsa Schiaparelli’s surreal fragrance bottles in the shape of suns and candlesticks.) Though only midway through their 20s, the Catherinettes were already considered spinsters, and their hats sent a clear message: “I’m available,” says Sophie Kurkdjian, an assistant professor of fashion history at the American University of Paris. “And I’m looking for a husband.” She likens the tradition to Tinder for the petites mains, or “little hands,” as the generally anonymous artisans responsible for sewing and embroidering the world’s most exquisite gowns are known.

The Catherinettes’ patron saint is Catherine of Alexandria, a skilled debater who died in the fourth century and who, according to legend, converted pagan scholars to Christianity and refused to wed a Roman emperor. (She’s also believed to watch over scholars and students.) More than a mating ritual, though — one that was practiced across France long before it was adopted by the fashion industry — St. Catherine’s Day was also a “bonding experience,” says Pamela Golbin, formerly the chief curator of fashion and textiles at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. “Today it would be considered a team-building exercise.” Men from the houses eventually adopted a parallel tradition in honor of St. Nicholas, another patron saint of many, including those looking to wed, who once purportedly paid the dowries for three unmarried sisters by secretly tossing gold into their father’s home. They celebrated on St. Nicholas’s feast day, Dec. 6, and enjoyed five additional years of shame-free singledom, becoming Nicholases at 30.

Two years ago, the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode, the governing body of Paris Fashion Week, which had long heard complaints about the holiday’s “antifeminism,” decided that participants no longer had to be unmarried, says its executive president, Pascal Morand. It also lowered the age for Nicholases to 25. The rule change affected people like Victor Weinsanto, a 30-year-old French designer who started his own label in 2020 and has now missed his opportunity to be feted as a Nicholas. He had appreciated the tradition since his internship at Chloé, where he’d watched Catherinettes receive handbags with their hats. (Along with the hats, which participants can keep, many houses provide additional gifts: Balenciaga, for example, offers full outfits.) Nevertheless, Weinsanto still relishes the spectacle from a distance. “It’s a moment where you can have some freedom about taste,” he says, recalling the large feathered hats worn last November by employees of Hermès, a brand not especially known for its flamboyance.