The year 1922 marked a seismic shift in global fascination with ancient Egypt. When British archaeologist Howard Carter uncovered the nearly intact tomb of Pharaoh Tutankhamun in the Valley of the Kings, the world was electrified. Newspapers published breathless accounts of the discovery, with vivid descriptions of gold masks, lapis inlays, and alabaster vessels. Yet beyond the headlines, this event ignited a cultural phenomenon that would reverberate through fashion, architecture, film, and above all, jewelry design. One of the most enduring legacies of this Egyptomania was the resurgence of scarab beads—amulet-shaped jewels modeled after the sacred dung beetle, a symbol of rebirth and protection in ancient Egyptian cosmology. These scarab beads became essential components in the revivalist jewelry of the 1920s and 1930s, repurposed for modern elegance while drawing directly from millennia-old symbology.
Before 1922, scarab beads were already familiar to collectors of antiquities and students of ancient cultures. Authentic scarabs, often carved from steatite or faience and inscribed with hieroglyphs, had been unearthed since the 19th century and sometimes repurposed into Victorian-era jewelry. However, it was the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb, with its astonishing array of scarab-decorated pectorals and rings, that catapulted the motif into mainstream Western consciousness. Jewelry designers quickly embraced the form, not merely as a decorative flourish but as an emblem of mystery, power, and timeless beauty. Scarabs began to appear in brooches, necklaces, and bracelets—not as historical artifacts, but as newly made elements inspired by the aesthetic language of the pharaohs.
One of the most notable shifts in this revival was the proliferation of scarab beads in molded and carved glass. Companies such as Czechoslovakia’s Neugablonz workshops, and glassmakers in Bohemia and Austria, began producing brightly colored glass scarabs in vivid blues, greens, and reds. These pieces were modeled on authentic scarab shapes, often complete with the winged thorax and subtle hieroglyph-style back carving, but they were designed to be strung or mounted en masse. Pressed glass scarabs with high domes and smooth undersides were used for necklaces, earrings, and fringe-style bracelets. Others were drilled longitudinally to create strands that echoed ancient broad collars, while single scarabs often served as the central focal bead in a pendant or brooch.
American costume jewelry companies also jumped on the trend. Firms like Coro, Trifari, and Haskell incorporated glass or imitation-stone scarabs into their Egyptian Revival lines, sometimes pairing them with faux turquoise, gilded metal lotus petals, and stylized winged motifs. The use of simulated semi-precious stones such as carnelian, lapis lazuli, and malachite was especially significant. These materials referenced the palette of the artifacts found in Tutankhamun’s tomb, evoking the belief that certain stones held divine or protective properties. Glassmakers replicated these hues with remarkable fidelity, often blending swirls of opaque and translucent color to mimic natural stones. As a result, many scarab beads from this era appear strikingly gemstone-like, though they are made entirely of molded glass or early plastics such as Galalith and celluloid.
The 1920s also saw an explosion of handcrafted revival jewelry by artisans influenced by the Art Deco movement. While Art Deco is often associated with geometry and modernism, it drew heavily from ancient cultures—Egyptian, Mayan, Mesopotamian—and incorporated their motifs into a streamlined aesthetic. Scarab beads from this period are often found in stepped settings, surrounded by geometric filigree or flanked by stylized papyrus forms. These juxtapositions created a compelling tension between antiquity and modernity, expressing both a reverence for the past and a fascination with the future.
Religious and symbolic meanings were not lost on the wearers. The scarab, in Egyptian belief, represented Khepri, the sun god associated with creation and rebirth. The beetle’s habit of rolling dung into a ball and burying it—only for new beetles to emerge—was seen as a metaphor for resurrection and the sun’s daily cycle. As such, scarab beads were thought to bring protection, renewal, and good fortune. For a generation emerging from the trauma of World War I and entering an age of rapid technological change, the spiritual resonance of the scarab offered comfort and continuity. Wearing a scarab in the 1920s was not only fashionable—it was a gesture steeped in mythic significance.
Scarabs were also embraced in men’s accessories, particularly cufflinks, stickpins, and signet rings. In these applications, the scarab took on a subtle masculinity, suggesting worldly knowledge, taste, and perhaps a hint of the esoteric. Egyptian-themed cigarette cases, lighters, and watch fobs from this period often featured small scarab insets, further demonstrating how deeply embedded the motif became in the culture of the time.
By the 1930s, the craze for Egyptian Revival jewelry began to mellow, but scarab beads continued to appear in various reinterpretations. During the 1940s and 1950s, especially amid the popularity of “exotic” themes in postwar costume jewelry, scarabs experienced another wave of visibility, this time often paired with other global motifs like Asian dragons or Greco-Roman cameos. Even today, vintage scarab bead jewelry from the 1920s is avidly collected, not only for its beauty but for its encapsulation of a historical moment when the ancient world briefly, and powerfully, reawakened the Western imagination.
Ultimately, the post-1922 revival of Egyptian scarab beads stands as a prime example of how archaeological discovery can ripple into the decorative arts. The scarab, once buried with pharaohs to assure their journey through the afterlife, found new life in the drawing rooms, ballrooms, and ateliers of the Jazz Age. Through molded glass, carved stone, and intricately designed settings, this ancient emblem of regeneration was reborn—again and again—into the ornamental language of modernity.
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