When Elegance Becomes a Cage: Why Cannes’ Ban on Nude Dressing Hurts More Than It Helps (If It Helps at All)

A sheer veil, a translucent mesh, a soft suggestion of skin—so much beauty, so much history, so much power. And yet, this spring, the Cannes Film Festival—long considered fashion’s most glamorous global stage—has decided to draw a line: no more “nude dressing.”

When Elegance Becomes a Cage: Why Cannes’ Ban on Nude Dressing Hurts More Than It Helps (If It Helps at All)

You’ve seen the headlines. As of Monday, Cannes Film Festival has not-so-quietly quietly introduced a new red carpet rule. This year, attendees are formally prohibited from wearing sheer gowns, illusion mesh, or body-baring silhouettes. The reason? To preserve what officials describe as “elegance” and “dignity.”

Historically, Cannes has been known for its opulence and flair. Over the decades, the festival has embraced extravagance—from voluminous couture to daring high-slits and skin-baring moments that became iconic. There was no written dress code beyond a general expectation of “black tie” for men and formalwear for women, which often allowed for interpretation and experimentation—especially for women navigating beauty, power, and personal style under intense scrutiny.

But this year’s shift signals something different: a specific targeting of transparency. A rule not about cut or color, but about skin. And at a time when global fashion is becoming more inclusive, more personal, and more expressive, Cannes’ decision feels less like a return to old-school glamor and more like a quiet retreat.

Not from fashion—but from freedom.

The Body Isn’t the Problem—The Fear of It Is

Let’s be honest: Cannes has always been about spectacle. The flashbulbs. The seafoam gowns. The performances of glamour. And part of that performance has always been risk. Stars wearing what no one else would dare. Sometimes elegant. Sometimes shocking.

So why now? Why say, suddenly: “We’ve seen enough”?

The answer likely has less to do with what’s shown—and more to do with who gets to choose how they’re seen.

When a woman walks a red carpet in a sheer gown—her body visible beneath a soft layer of fabric—she’s doing something deeper than seeking attention. She’s reclaiming authorship over her image. In a world where women’s appearances are constantly surveilled, judged, and packaged for consumption, that agency matters.

To ban that is to take something from her. Not the dress. Her voice.

Sheer Isn’t New. It’s Ancient.

“Nude dressing” isn’t a scandal of modern vanity. It’s one of fashion’s oldest legacies.

In ancient Greece, women wore translucent robes that flowed and clung to the body. In revolutionary France, sheer muslin gowns became symbols of liberation from corsets and control. In the 1920s, flappers danced in backless dresses. In the 1960s, miniskirts were weapons of protest. In the ’90s, Kate Moss wore a see-through slip—not to provoke, but simply because it was what she wanted.

Nudity in fashion has never only been about seduction. It’s also been about autonomy, rebellion, and artistic freedom. The difference is how we choose to react. And right now, Cannes is reacting from fear.

When Elegance Excludes

The festival says it wants to preserve “elegance.” But whose definition are we talking about?

Too often, “elegance” becomes code for control—especially when it comes to women who don’t fit the traditional mold. A sheer gown on a white Hollywood actress might be called “daring” or “fashion-forward.” The same gown on a Black woman or someone from a non-Western country might be labeled “inappropriate” or “vulgar.”

We saw this last year with Kelly Rowland. She wore a beautiful gown—nothing especially provocative—yet was rushed off the carpet by staff who seemed dismissive and impatient. Meanwhile, others in similarly revealing looks received praise and patience. Whether or not the dress code was the cause, the double standard was unmistakable.

This isn’t just about hemlines. It’s about hierarchy.

Red Carpets Are More Than Glamour

To some, fashion is frivolous. But on a red carpet, fashion becomes language. It tells stories. It makes statements. It says what cannot always be said aloud.

Designers around the world wait for the moment a gown is photographed. Stylists spend months crafting a single look. A red carpet appearance can launch a career—or quietly erase it.

By banning sheer or skin-revealing styles, Cannes isn’t just setting a fashion rule. It’s narrowing who gets to speak through clothing. It’s telling creatives—especially those outside the traditional fashion elite—that they must play by someone else’s rules if they want visibility.

That’s not elegance. That’s erasure.

Skin Isn’t the Enemy

There’s something inherently powerful about a body, any body, dressed with intention. A sheer dress isn’t just about what’s visible—it’s about tension, contrast, and control.

Designers like Iris van Herpen, Jean Paul Gaultier, and Valentino have all used transparency to evoke emotion, anatomy, even vulnerability. Bella Hadid’s now-iconic Schiaparelli dress with the golden lungs? Not vulgar. Visionary. It wasn’t about exposure—it was about breath, life, fragility.

What we often fear in sheer dressing isn’t nudity. It’s the refusal to shrink. A woman revealing her body on her own terms disrupts the archetype of silent, passive beauty. She doesn’t fade into the frame. She frames it herself. That scares people.

So Who Gets to Break the Rules?

Even with this new dress code, let’s not pretend enforcement will be equal. A major star in custom Dior? Probably fine. A newcomer in a sheer look by an emerging designer? Maybe not. Power plays out not just in who dresses boldly—but in who’s allowed to. Elegance, in that light, becomes less about taste, and more about gatekeeping.

We Deserve a Fuller Vision of Beauty

“Dignity.” “Tradition.” These words are used often—but often selectively. The world is evolving. Gender is fluid. Beauty isn’t dictated by Paris or Milan anymore. It blooms everywhere.

So why not let the red carpet reflect that?

Why not celebrate the woman who feels powerful in a sheer dress—and the one who feels best in a classic gown? Why not trust people to know what makes them feel like themselves?

Fashion isn’t about rules. It’s about rhythm. And rhythm is personal.

What could Cannes Could do Instead?

If the festival wants to lead—not limit—here’s how it could elevate grace without restricting self-expression:

• Celebrate sustainability. Spotlight designers working with reclaimed fabrics, low-impact processes, or local artisanship.

• Champion new voices. Create space for young, diverse designers from across the globe.

• Embrace cultural expression. Welcome garments that reflect global identities—sarongs, saris, indigenous textiles, protest fashion, and more.

Elegance doesn’t need to look the same on everyone. In fact, it shouldn’t.

In the End, This Isn’t Just About Dresses. This is about what we allow people—especially women—to express through their bodies. A sheer dress may shimmer with crystals and mesh. But beneath it might be a story of shame, survival, or joy. Wearing it might be someone’s act of freedom. Of healing. Of finally being seen. Cannes doesn’t need to fear that. It should welcome it.

Because what is cinema, if not the telling of stories that haven’t yet been heard? And what is fashion, if not the language of the body—the first story we ever tell?

Let’s not make it a silent one.