The Real Meaning of La Catrina: What She Has Taught Me About Love, Life and Family

For almost fifteen years, I have been learning to look beyond the beautiful painted face—and to understand La Catrina as a symbol of memory, identity, family and life.

The first time I encountered La Catrina was approximately fifteen years ago. I was immediately drawn to the elaborate flowers, expressive colours, painted faces and extraordinary visual language surrounding her, but I did not yet understand what I was looking at. From a European perspective, it was easy to see a skull and place it beside Halloween, gothic imagery or the familiar Western idea of death as something dark and frightening.

Today, I understand that this first impression barely touched the surface.

My relationship with La Catrina did not begin with complete knowledge. It became a long journey of discovery. Over the years, I continued learning about Día de los Muertos, Mexican art, the history behind La Catrina and the many ways in which this tradition is experienced. The more I discovered, the more careful I became. I did not want to take a powerful cultural symbol, remove it from its story and turn it into nothing more than a beautiful fashion trend.

For me, La Catrina is not simply a collection. She is love. Love for life, family, memory, colour, creativity and authenticity. Love for the people who came before us, and for the fragile, extraordinary experience of being alive.

La Catrina and Halloween Are Not the Same

One of the most common mistakes made outside Mexico is treating Día de los Muertos as a Mexican version of Halloween. The dates are close and both celebrations may include skull imagery, costumes and decorations, but their cultural meanings and emotional languages are profoundly different.

Halloween often embraces the frightening, mysterious and theatrical. Its modern visual world includes haunted houses, monsters, witches, darkness and the playful pleasure of being scared. It is a carnival of transformation, fantasy and fear—and I love designing for that world too. But it is not the world of La Catrina.

Día de los Muertos is rooted in remembrance. Families prepare altars decorated with flowers, candles, photographs, favourite foods and meaningful objects to welcome the symbolic return of loved ones. Customs differ across Mexico, but they share a common thread: honouring those who came before us and celebrating the enduring bond between the living and the dead.

This is why I consciously keep my La Catrina and Halloween collections separate. Not because one is more important than the other, but because they tell two completely different stories. Halloween can be shadowy, frightening and theatrical. La Catrina, to me, belongs to a world of remembrance, colour, family, identity and life.

I would never place Halloween pumpkins on one of my La Catrina crowns simply because they happen to share the same season. Combining them would erase the distinction between two traditions I have spent years learning to respect.

Before La Catrina, There Was La Calavera Garbancera

Few people realise that La Catrina did not originally appear as the elegant woman we recognise today.

Her story begins with Mexican printmaker, illustrator and political satirist José Guadalupe Posada, who created a skeletal woman wearing an extravagant European-style hat. He called her La Calavera Garbancera. She was not simply an illustration of death; she was satire.

Posada criticised people who rejected their Mexican heritage while attempting to imitate European aristocracy. His skeleton carried a simple but powerful message: no matter how elegant our clothes or extravagant our hats may be, we are all ultimately equal.

Many years later, muralist Diego Rivera gave her a full body and transformed her into the elegant figure now known worldwide as La Catrina. In his famous mural Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Central, Rivera placed her at the centre of Mexican history alongside Posada and a young version of himself. Frida Kahlo also appears in this extraordinary work.

Thanks to Rivera, La Catrina gradually became one of the most recognised symbols of Mexican culture. Yet her meaning has never been limited to a single interpretation. Over the decades, she has come to represent social criticism, Mexican identity, elegance, mortality and the visual language of Día de los Muertos.

Behind the beautiful face lies a remarkable story. Not just aesthetics, but history.

The More I Learned, the More I Saw Life

When people see a skull, they often assume the meaning must be negative. The more I learned about La Catrina and Día de los Muertos, however, the more I realised that this is not necessarily true. A skull does not have to represent horror. It can be playful, beautiful and kind. It can remind us that death is part of life and that the people we love remain forever within our memories, our families and our stories.

My own spiritual beliefs are deeply personal, and I would never claim they represent the beliefs of every Mexican family. I personally believe that death is not an ending. I believe it is a return home, and that our soul extends beyond our physical body. Perhaps this is why images of illuminated cemeteries filled with flowers, candles and families remembering their loved ones move me so deeply.

They also awaken memories of my childhood in Slovakia. Around All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, we regularly visited cemeteries to light candles, decorate family graves and spend time together. As children, we even played there. We were never afraid. The cemetery did not feel like a place of fear. It felt peaceful, safe and full of those who came before us.

Slovak All Souls’ traditions and Mexico’s Día de los Muertos are, of course, not the same. Their histories, customs and meanings are different, and I would never suggest otherwise. Yet both remind me of something profoundly human. Remembering the people we love does not have to be filled only with sadness. It can also be filled with love. Perhaps that is why the colourful cemeteries of Mexico appear so incredibly beautiful to me. They do not celebrate death. They celebrate the lives of those who came before us.

Why My La Catrina Crowns Are Filled With Colour

When I design a La Catrina crown, I never want the skull to be surrounded by darkness or emptiness. I want the entire piece to overflow with life. I want it to bloom.

My crowns are often surrounded by roses in shades of crimson, violet and vibrant pink. Golden filigree catches the light, while crystals, pearls and intricate details create movement, richness and abundance. Hearts, flames and Sacred Heart-inspired elements appear throughout the collection as part of my own artistic language, expressing devotion, emotion and the power of love.

It is very important for me to distinguish between the traditional symbols of Día de los Muertos and my own artistic interpretation. Skulls, flowers, candles, altars, photographs, food and papel picado belong to the traditional visual language of the celebration, although their meanings can vary from one family or region to another. Pearls, couture-inspired structures, golden filigree, crystals and many of the decorative details found in my work are part of my own creative signature as a European jewellery and fashion designer.

I never claim that every element in my crowns is a traditional Mexican symbol. Nor do I want to imitate Mexican art. My goal is to create original wearable art inspired by a tradition I deeply admire while remaining honest about what belongs to that tradition and what comes from my own imagination.

To me, respect does not mean being afraid to create. Respect means creating with humility, curiosity and a willingness to keep learning.

My favourite piece from the entire collection is a lavish purple and pink La Catrina crown. At its centre sits an ornate golden skull surrounded by deep violet roses, delicate flowers, crystals and golden ornaments. I truly love the red version as well, but the purple crown captures everything La Catrina means to me—femininity, transformation, abundance, joy and life surrounding the symbol of our mortality.

The skull does not diminish the beauty of the flowers. It reminds us how precious they truly are.

Designing With Candles, Mexican Music and Gratitude

The atmosphere in which I create my La Catrina collection is completely different from the one surrounding my Halloween designs.

Whenever I begin designing a new piece, I often light candles and play a Mexican playlist in my studio. In those moments I feel joy, gratitude, respect and genuine happiness that I have the opportunity to create a collection inspired by such a beautiful tradition.

More than anything else, I feel grateful for the trust my customers place in me. Women from all over the world choose my crowns for one of the most meaningful moments of their lives. Some fall in love with an existing design, while others ask me to create an entirely bespoke crown made just for them.

They are not simply buying an accessory.

They are inviting me to become part of one of their most unforgettable memories.

Every crown therefore carries two stories. One is mine. The other belongs to the woman who will wear it.

The greatest compliment I can ever receive is not hearing that a crown looked beautiful. The greatest compliment is receiving a photograph after the event. Seeing a woman smiling while wearing one of my creations. Reading a review saying she had an unforgettable evening, that strangers stopped her to admire every detail and that she felt extraordinary because of what she was wearing.

That is the moment when I know my work has fulfilled its true purpose.

Wearable art does not truly come alive inside my atelier.

It comes alive when it becomes part of someone’s memory.

The Courage to Be Authentically Yourself

My fascination with Mexico goes far beyond La Catrina.

It has been my lifelong dream to visit Mexico one day—not only during Día de los Muertos, but to experience its cities, landscapes, art, people and everyday life with my own eyes.

My favourite artist has always been Frida Kahlo. I admire her not only because of her extraordinary paintings but because of her courage, authenticity and unwavering strength. I admire the way she transformed pain, identity, love and her own life into timeless works of art.

I do not see Frida Kahlo as an explanation of La Catrina. They belong to different stories within the richness of Mexican culture. Yet, for me personally, they both represent something deeply inspiring—the courage to remain true to yourself and to create from the heart.

One of Frida Kahlo’s final paintings bears the title Viva la Vida — Long Live Life. Those three words perfectly express everything La Catrina has come to mean to me.

The awareness that life is temporary does not make life less beautiful. It makes it infinitely more precious.

Beauty can exist beside pain.

Colour can exist beside grief.

And celebrating life can exist alongside remembering those we have lost.

Can Someone Outside Mexico Wear La Catrina?

This is a question I believe deserves far more than a simple yes or no.

Cultural inspiration becomes disrespectful the moment we separate a symbol from its history, reduce it to nothing more than a beautiful decoration or begin speaking on behalf of the people to whom that tradition belongs.

To me, wearing La Catrina respectfully begins with taking the time to understand her story.

It means acknowledging her Mexican origins. It means recognising that Día de los Muertos is not Halloween. It means avoiding stereotypes and, above all, listening to the voices of the people who have grown up with this tradition and continue to keep it alive.

I am still learning.

And I believe I always will be.

I do not create because I want to claim this tradition as my own.

I create because I admire it.

My La Catrina collection is not an attempt to explain Mexico or speak on behalf of Mexican culture. It is my own artistic tribute to a tradition that has profoundly inspired me over the past fifteen years.

If I Had to Describe La Catrina in One Word

It would be…

Love.

Love that remembers.

Love for family.

Love for those who came before us.

Love for culture.

Love expressed through flowers, music, candles, art and the moments we share with the people we cherish.

Fifteen years ago, I saw a beautifully painted skull.

I did not understand her.

Today, I see a reminder to live fully.

To create honestly.

To remember those who came before us.

I see an elegant figure who began as social satire and gradually became one of the most recognised symbols of Mexican culture.

I see the women who trusted me enough to let me create a crown for one of the most meaningful evenings of their lives.

And behind the skull, the flowers and the gold, I see love.

If someone from Mexico is reading these words, I would simply like to say thank you.

Thank you to the artists, families and communities who have preserved and shared this extraordinary tradition across generations. I sincerely hope that both my work and this article are received in the spirit in which they were created—with admiration, humility and respect.

Discover the La Catrina Collection

Every Carbickova Crowns La Catrina headpiece is handcrafted in our European atelier as an original piece of wearable art. Rich floral compositions, ornate golden filigree, crystals, pearls and couture craftsmanship come together to create a collection for women searching for far more than a costume.

They are searching for transformation.

Whether you choose one of our existing La Catrina designs or commission a bespoke crown created especially for you, every piece is made slowly, entirely by hand and with the greatest respect for the occasion on which it will be worn.

For me, every crown tells a story long before it leaves my atelier.

The final chapter is written by the woman who wears it.

And perhaps that is the most beautiful part of all.

Explore our handcrafted La Catrina crowns, headpieces and accessories.

Or let us create a bespoke design inspired by your own vision.