RIP Claire’s Accessories, the shop that taught girls to choose

At approximately 4:25 pm (a totally plucked-out-of-thin-air estimation) on Monday, January 5, 2026, Claire’s Accessories was rushed into High Street Hospital in critical condition. That is: the business went into administration. 

Not particularly shocking news, given that this exact same thing happened last summer. After entering administration in August, Claire’s was given a second chance by buyers Modella Capital, saving 156 stores in the UK – along with WHSmith, Hobbycraft and The Original Factory Shop, which the company bought in similar life-support acquisition deals last year. Yet less than four months later, the new owners have already decided to pull the plug on our old faithful accessories shop. 

The administration is allegedly designed to give the business “breathing space to find a new buyer”, as per the BBC. But let’s not kid ourselves. Claire’s is essentially in palliative care. If you can find a remaining store, it’s time to go in and say your final goodbyes. 

But first, a quick recap of Claire’s legacy. Starting life as a Chicago-based jewellery store chain, the brand first landed on UK soil in 1996, one of the most formative years in most British millennial girlhood for obvious reasons: the Spice Girls. As Wannabe sat at No 1 for seven weeks, little girls up and down the country began to learn about girl power, sisterhood and the unique thrill of fashioning an identity through what you wear. And Claire’s, with its myriad cheap trinkets, was on hand to help us get there. 

Butterfly clips were there to complete the hairstyle tutorials in Mizz magazine. Plastic chokers and studded belts would see you through your grunge (or, in the 2000s, emo) phase. Glitter hairspray provided the finishing touch before heading out to a village hall disco. 

Serious stuff. No, really. Stepping into Claire’s with your Groovy Chick purse was about more than spending your saved-up pennies on tat. For many young girls, it was our first taste of autonomy, a place where you were mostly free to choose how you spent your money and, even better, what you wore – even if it was only a stack of gummy bracelets. 

There, on the corner of every high street, in the fluorescent glow of every shopping centre, was a low-stakes and accessible environment in which to begin the lifelong process of developing personal taste. There were products you’d buy because you’d seen them on the popular girls at school (see: the spiky rubber earrings that swept my year three classroom in 2003). But the most special finds were the ones you’d pick out yourself based on instinct, a necklace, hair clip or keyring that seemed to call out from the shelves and whisper: “I was made just for you.” 

Today’s tweens don’t really have that. They love to shop, of course – thanks to their penchant for side hustles, Gen Alpha have an estimated $100 billion in spending power in the US. But the process of choosing what to buy and wear has become markedly more prescriptive, guided more by algorithms than gut feeling. Prematurely adultified by the influencers on their feeds, they covet £50 face creams over Coca-Cola-flavoured lip balms, luxury athleisure in neutral tones over kaleidoscopic bangles and scrunchies. 

Can’t blame them. If I’d had access to more grown-up fashion and beauty content as a kid, I’d have inhaled it too. But something’s been lost in the homogeneity of the post-and-scroll cycle. There’s less room to experiment with, say, blue mascara; the horizons of self-expression have shrunk. They’ll never have old photos of them making questionable fashion choices to laugh at. They already look like miniature Alix Earles. 

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That’s probably where Claire’s went wrong. The brand did indeed cotton on to Gen Alpha’s beauty obsession in 2024, launching a line of fragrances, moisturisers and bath products, complete with Glossier lip balm dupe. Trouble is, kids were by then already hooked on Sephora. Combine that with a digital footprint that withers in comparison to TikTok Shop – which sells the same kinds of novelty products mid-scroll, often for a fraction of the price – and Claire’s never really stood a chance. For better or worse, tween culture evolved too fast. 

As with all things that die, it’s best to remember Claire’s in its glory days. From Rihanna to Brooklyn Beckham, more than 100 million ears have been pierced in its shops worldwide – a feat that’s unlikely to be matched by any other brand going forward. 

At its peak in 2010, there were 465 shops across the UK, each one a microcosm of young girls deciding who they were going to be. My hometown Hull branch (still standing, for now) was where I bought my first pair of monkey-shaped earrings, carefully picked out birthday presents for friends and fine-tuned my mental arithmetic to ensure I’d walk away with the most swag possible for a tenner. 

It’s also where some of my classmates learned to shoplift. I remember proudly trotting into school on a Monday morning, excited to flaunt my newly acquired accessories, only to be overshadowed by the scandalised whispers as word spread that someone had been “arrested” for nicking a pair of gaudy crystal earrings. Yes, Claire’s was a site for risk-taking of all forms, be it glitter body gel or a first brush with criminality. 

There will be some who argue that nothing is lost in the shuttering of these stores. That it was all junk destined for the landfill anyway, distracting kids from boring stuff like maths homework. They’re probably the same people who dismiss pop fandoms as mass hysteria. There is nothing more important to a tweenage girl – or anyone, for that matter – than figuring out who you are. And, from experience, I know there are few better ways to begin that process than covering yourself in face gems. 

What will replace Claire’s? Probably another bloody American candy store, if the current state of Oxford Street is anything to go by. But in the hearts and souls of millennial women, nothing will be able to fill the gaping glittery hole left by this deep loss. 

A Claire’s shopping spree could make you feel like the Britney Spears of your dreary suburban town. Now, the next gen is forced to settle for AI-slop products on Temu that may or may not actually exist. You never know what you’ve got til it’s gone, I suppose – just like you never know you need a new mood ring til you see one at the checkout in Claire’s. 

Women of the UK, stand in line and pay your respects. It’s time for a 21-piercing-gun salute.