It’s been precisely one year since Rihanna showed up to the annual Council of Fashion Designers of America Awards (the CFDAs) in that Internet-crashing, Swarovski crystal-embellished Adam Selman “dress” — quotation-marked, of course, because you could see her crystal-embellished nipples clear through it.
Since then, the general public has been treated to a parade of one-note red-carpet creations extolling nudity, each less successful than the next — from the body stocking model Irina Shayk wore to the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty in February to the yards of illusion-fabric spilt at last month’s Met Gala among Jennifer Lopez, Beyoncé and Kim Kardashian West.
“At a certain point, if someone feels they’ve reached the limits of what fabric can do, I suppose they attempt to see how it goes without [it],” quips Jessica Morgan, one half of popular fashion-critiquing duo the Fug Girls of gofugyourself.com. “Personally, I think it’s a desire for attention. Because you don’t see, say, Anna Wintour going to the Met Ball in a sheer dress.” Heather Cocks, Morgan’s partner in crime, agrees: “I’m sure some designer somewhere is crafting a statement about how it’s the design and a woman’s body working in concert to create art. But that would be elegant b.s. They want publicity, pure and simple.”
The motives behind “naked” evening wear haven’t always been so banal and, well, transparent. At least two recently published think pieces on the topic have been quick to point out the trend’s pop cultural antecedent: The skin-baring Jean Louis dress Marilyn Monroe famously flaunted to sing “Happy Birthday” to John F. Kennedy in 1962. Back then, peekaboo flesh beyond the bedroom was fresh territory, at least in Hollywood, and Monroe, contrary to the ditsy stereotype she invented for herself, used racy ensembles and hypersexualized femininity to craft a complex, convention-challenging persona.
That sense of empowered freedom popped up on the CFDA Awards red carpet 62 years later in the shape of Rihanna’s barely-there dress. Perfect in its nigh-nothingness, the look wasn’t just shockingly revealing; it was paradoxically tasteful, sophisticated, a vehicle for infectious self-confidence. The ensemble took us by surprise: How can this be everything when there’s hardly anything there?
And it was simple — unlike the numerous overcooked, painful-looking mermaid gowns that both preceded it and followed in its wake. When the singer smirked at an E! News reporter, “My tits bother you?,” she managed to communicate in four words, “I’m beautiful, comfortable and in command of my nakedness — deal with it.”
That was the first and last time the au courant see-through aesthetic seemed novel. Two months later, in August, Amber Rose stepped out in a chain-link dress that was gauche, but at least suited her brazen public M.O. The sheer, S&M-inspired Tom Ford getup Miley Cyrus wore to the amfAR gala in October looked like duct tape stretched across two pancakes. Lady Gaga’s translucent Alaïa gown, donned at the Vanity Fair party, wasn’t so bad, but why trade fashion spectacle for less amusing acts of desperation? At least it beat the especially dated, Nancy Kerrigan-esque sheer look Paris Hilton tried in April, which prefigured the lazy efforts at this year’s Met Gala in May.
What RiRi wore on that esteemed night was a couture robe by Chinese designer Guo Pei — an appropriate and lauded choice for the China-themed soiree. It stood in brilliant contrast to the choices of other top-billed names, including the biggest, Beyoncé, whose Givenchy number left little to the imagination — and offered even less to fashion lovers living in a perpetual state of red carpet déjà vu.
“I think it was a colossal whiff that Beyoncé even tried [wearing a ‘naked’ dress],” says Cocks. “For someone who positions herself as the queen of all things, it felt like picking up someone’s sloppy seconds — or worse, sloppy sixths.”
And we all get it. In our sex-driven society, statement nudity is a convenient marketing tool (not to mention visual shorthand for “I don’t need to wear Spanx”). Still, what was once provocative is now commonplace, and the litany of sheer gowns has turned even the most glamorous and aspirational events into predictable, click-baiting adult proms.