Long before glitter glue, rhinestones, and TikTok tutorials turned graduation caps into miniature art galleries, the iconic square hat began as something very different. You spend years grinding through classes, group projects, and early‑morning lectures, only to top it all off with a flat little board perched on your head. Most people never stop to wonder why it looks that way. The answer, as it turns out, is stranger and older than you might expect. Whether you crossed the stage decades ago or just picked up your diploma, here’s the surprising story behind the graduation cap.
Why are graduation caps square?
The modern mortarboard traces its roots to 16th‑century Italy. According to History.com, it evolved from a Catholic clerical hat called the biretta, worn by priests and scholars since the 14th century. Those early versions didn’t resemble today’s caps at all—they had three peaks and a fluffy tuft on top, looking more like ornate religious headwear than anything you’d see at commencement.
The shape changed dramatically in 1660, when King Charles II returned to the English throne. Clergy members enlarged the tops of their caps to show loyalty to the new monarch. Those wider tops needed stiff reinforcement to hold their shape, and that practical tweak eventually gave rise to the flat, square mortarboard we know today.
How did the plain black cap become a canvas?
For centuries, the cap stayed simple and solemn. That changed during the Vietnam War, when graduates began decorating their mortarboards with peace signs as quiet acts of protest. From there, the trend grew. By the late 20th century, the once‑formal cap had become a full‑blown creative outlet.
Few people have watched that evolution as closely as Connie Mabry, director of Cornell University’s Office of Commencement Events since 1989. “I’ve seen many creative designs,” she told the school’s alumni magazine. “They’re truly masterful art pieces.”
Today’s designs tend to fall into a few familiar categories:
The heartfelt tribute: Messages thanking parents, grandparents, or anyone who helped them get through The college‑cost roast: “Game of Loans. Interest is coming.” or “This hat: $95,990” The pop‑culture moment: Taylor Swift lyrics, Marvel symbols, pet portraits, or a Bluey reference The job‑hunt billboard: “Hire me!” in glitter, sometimes with a QR code linking to a résumé The identity celebration: First‑generation pride, cultural heritage, or LGBTQ+ representation
The mortarboard has traveled a long road from medieval clergy attire to glitter‑covered graduation keepsake. Whether yours is simple, sentimental, or a sparkling plea for employment, you’re taking part in a tradition nearly five centuries old.
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