Set against the backdrop of the French Riviera, with its white sandy beaches and grandiose hotels, the Cannes Film Festival is arguably one of the most glamorous events in the red carpet calendar. Every year, celebrities descend on the coastal city to celebrate cinema, stepping out of their shiny, chauffeured cars in internet-breaking outfits like Bella Hadid’s see-through Saint Laurent gown in 2024, Leila Depina’s delicate chainmail dress in 2023, and even Victoria Abril’s booty-baring blazer in 1997.
Despite this decades-old tradition, the looks we see on the 78th red carpet at Cannes might, well, look entirely different. On Monday, 12th May (mere hours before the multi-day event kicked off), the organisers updated the dress code for the main venue, the Grand Théâtre Lumière. “For decency reasons, nudity is prohibited on the red carpet,” the site now reads, adding “voluminous outfits, in particular those with a large train,” are also no longer permitted.
For the celebrities, designers, and stylists who have likely spent months, if not all year, preparing for the event, this last-minute move will undoubtedly cause closet chaos. But, beyond that, this ‘ban’ signals a regressive shift – one that reflects ongoing discomfort with women using fashion as a form of power, protest, and self-expression.
“The organisers at Cannes may not have openly said they are banning ‘female nudity’ – but they might as well have, because we know that women's bodies and fashion will be the most likely policed in this scenario,” Eliza Hatch, activist and founder of Cheer Up Luv, tells me. “This ban is just another boring attempt to control women's bodies,” agrees fashion stylist Morgan Elizabeth Hall who, like me, questions why women’s nudity is accepted on screen, but not on the red carpet.
“The hypocrisy is wild,” Morgan says. Referencing the Oscar-winning film Anora, which features plenty of nudity and was acclaimed for its artistic merit, she asks: “Mikey Madison being predominantly naked on screen is fine, but if she’s in a ‘naked’ dress on the red carpet, would she be turned away?” With that in mind, telling women to cover up feels less like a dress code and more like a cultural warning. We’re allowed to be naked, just not on our terms.
“Women's bodies are constantly being celebrated and scrutinised, worshipped and policed, respected and violated. It's a pattern and dichotomy we are painfully used to seeing,” adds Eliza, noting that we’re shamed when we “take control” and refuse to be presented “through the lens of the male gaze.”
I put this to the organisers of the Cannes Film Festival, who explained, “The aim is not to regulate attire per se, but to prohibit full nudity on the red carpet.” The spokesperson added this is “in accordance with the institutional framework of the event and French law,” but when I asked for clarity on what ‘full nudity’ is and pressed for a response on the hypocrisy of said nudity being welcomed on screen, I didn’t hear back.
The timing of this dress code crackdown is, as Morgan describes it, “particularly grim.” In an era when women’s bodily autonomy is increasingly under attack, from abortion access to transgender rights, this serves as yet another reminder that the patriarchy is at play. “It’s not about ‘appropriateness’, it's about keeping women in their place,” she adds, while artist and researcher, Dr Daisy McManaman, highlights how this rule opens up further room for discrimination.
“I’m interested to see how this is enforced and which bodies are more frequently targeted,” she says. “In 2024, Kelly Rowland publicly criticised the Cannes Film Festival after being rushed off the red carpet, raising questions about whether women of colour are being disproportionately scrutinised under the festival’s strict red carpet protocols.”
Daisy continues: “The media has long upheld narrow ideals of beauty, celebrating bodies that align with whiteness, thinness, youth, and conventional femininity, while often disciplining those that fall outside of hetero-patriarchal beauty norms.”
To that end, while it's important to call out cultural institutions for sexist or restrictive dress codes, Eliza stresses “we need to make sure we’re also applying that same energy and pressure, if not more, to our governments and world leaders about the restrictive policies which impact the daily lives of the most marginalised people in society.”
This isn’t the first time the Cannes Film Festival has come under fire for its discriminatory dress code. In 2015 and 2019, the event’s ‘no flat shoes’ rule – which, of course, had little impact on the men in attendance – prompted celebrities like Kristen Stewart and Julia Roberts to protest by going barefoot. But the controversy isn’t really about fashion or footwear. It’s about who gets to decide what we as women put on our bodies. In recent years, ‘naked dressing’ has emerged not just as a trend, but as a deliberate choice. Far from being purely aesthetic or attention-seeking, these looks can carry personal and political weight.
“We're reclaiming our freedom, our bodies, our right to take up space, and there's something deeply powerful about saying ‘I'm here, I'm visible, and I'm unapologetic about it’,” argues Morgan. “For my clients, especially women, red carpets aren't just photo moments, they're opportunities to reclaim their narrative.”
With the festival’s organisers resolute that its on-site teams will “prohibit red carpet access” to anyone “not respecting these rules”, I’m not alone in wondering how this will play out – and if fashion will prevail as a form of protest. “Fashion has always flourished when challenged, and I'm curious how creatives respond to this ban,” Morgan tells me, although she’s more looking forward to a world in which we trust women to dress themselves without committee approval.”
Once again, all eyes are on Cannes… and what the women in attendance will, or won’t, be wearing. Whether they choose to bend to the new rules remains to be seen, but what we know for sure is that it’s not (and never has been) nudity that threatens the status quo – it’s the power behind it. This is a force no dress code can dull.
Love it or hate it, they're here to stay.
