If fashion trends had a group chat, the “naked dress” would absolutely be that chaotic bestie who shows up late, drinks all the prosecco, refuses to leave the party at 3 a.m., and somehow still has the audacity to text “brunch?” the next morning. She’s glamorous, a little scandalous, slightly exhausting—but oh, you just can’t quit her. The naked dress has survived everything from the Y2K revival to the reign of “quiet luxury,” proving it’s not just a moment, it’s a movement.

So: are naked dresses done? Please. That’s like asking if celebrities will ever stop trying to shock us on the Met Gala steps. The short answer: not by a long shot. The long answer: buckle up, because fashion still has an insatiable appetite for drama, and nothing delivers like a gown that doubles as wearable modern art and a subtle cardio workout (seriously, holding in your core under sheer mesh is Pilates in disguise).

Red carpets are obsessed, couture houses won’t stop remixing it, and celebrities keep RSVP’ing with “make mine sheer, sparkly, and maybe missing pants.” So, is naked dressing finally packing up—or is it just sliding into your DMs with a calendar invite for its next big entrance?

Naked Dress explained

“Naked dressing” isn’t an invitation to forget your manners or show up to dinner literally unclothed (though a few celebrities have tried it); it’s fashion shorthand for an art form. At its core, the naked dress is about the tantalizing balance of reveal and conceal. We’re talking sheer fabrics, illusion tulle, daring mesh, and embellishments so strategically placed they deserve their own architectural degree. Think glittering crystals mapping your curves like the night sky, sequins pulling overtime as security guards, and lingerie proudly promoted from “hidden layer” to “main character.”

This is how fashion editors define it: a catch-all category for any look designed to make people gasp, screenshot, and text their group chat immediately. It’s equal parts spectacle, craftsmanship, and performance art. The naked dress doesn’t just clothe you—it stages a red-carpet TED Talk on the fine art of “I could be naked… but make it couture.”

Naked Dressing Through the Years

If you want to trace the naked-dress family tree, pull up a chair and prepare for a timeline with attitude. The look’s ancestors appear as early as the 1920s (silent-film starlets and their flirtations with sheer fabrics), then crop up again in major moments: Kate Moss’s now-iconic sheer slip in 1993 — the kind of outfit that makes auction houses salivate — which is basically fashion’s original mic drop.

Fast-forward and the trend gets a red-carpet megaphone from icons who treat brazen as haute couture: Rihanna’s Swarovski-encrusted Adam Selman gown at the 2014 CFDA Awards, Beyoncé’s illusion Givenchy at the 2015 Met Gala, and Jennifer Lopez’s jungle-print Versace that basically created a Google feature. These looks did more than shock — they normalized spectacle as empowerment.

And it didn’t end in the 2010s. The early 2020s and beyond saw everyone from Zendaya to Emily Ratajkowski to Megan Fox reinterpreting “almost nothing” with elegance, cheekiness, or both — and the People roundup of recent red-carpet moments reads like a who’s-who of modern boldness.

Why the Naked Dress Feels Timeless (and irresistible)

Here’s the economics/psychology primer: naked dressing solves several problems for the attention economy. It’s visually arresting, infinitely Instagrammable, and flexible — it can read sexy, arty, political, or retro depending on styling. Designers love it because it’s a technique, not a statement: a way to show off handwork (beading, embroidery) while leaning on the body as the “canvas.” Audiences love it because it promises a peek behind the curtain. Stylists love it because it keeps headlines coming. None of that is going away any time soon.

Is the Naked Dress Far From Over?

Two camps: the “trend fatigue” hot takes (it’s over, we’ve seen it) and the “not going anywhere” fashion editors (it’s evergreen, with seasonal spins). I sit with the latter — and yes, I brought receipts.

Most recently, Vogue ran a piece explicitly arguing that naked dressing is far from over — using Margot Robbie’s Alain-Privé–adjacent, beaded, see-through gown (worn at a UK premiere) as Exhibit A. Robbie’s look — a couture, sheer, crystal-heavy number worn with a beaded thong — shows the trend isn’t just back; it’s couture-level, fully staged, and deliberate. Vogue’s take: even amid red-carpet rules and occasional censorship debates (hello, Cannes policy chatter), designers and stars are leaning into the naked-dress language with renewed inventiveness.

Want more proof? People’s long roundup of celebrities who wore “naked dresses” across 2023–2025 reads like evidence from a serial trend detective — Ice Spice, Zoë Kravitz, Dakota Johnson, Miley Cyrus, and a parade of Grammys/VMAs/Oscars looks keep appearing in sheer and illusion forms. If it were dying, we wouldn’t still have daily news items describing new variations.

Counterpoint: there are bumps in the road. Festivals and institutions have flirted with stricter rules around nudity; some audiences express fatigue or call for more wardrobe diversity beyond “skin = wow.” But the smart spin is that naked dressing adapts: where once sheer was shock, now sheer can be a technical showcase, a political statement, or a nostalgic wink. Rather than signaling apocalypse, the naysayer noise is the background hum of a trend entering a more nuanced phase.

So…is it over? Final take (with a wink)

Nope. The naked dress is not retired; it’s evolving. From Kate Moss’s braless slip to Rihanna’s Swarovski revolution to Margot Robbie’s beaded thong-moment, naked dressing has always been less about “how little” and more about how you show it — materials, craftsmanship, and context. The 2025 evidence (hi, Vogue headline) says designers and stars are still inventing new routes to astonish, and the world keeps taking the bait.

If fashion is a soap opera, the naked dress is the long-running subplot that sometimes goes offscreen for a season and then returns with better lighting, a bigger budget, and a cameo from the couture house everyone forgot they loved. So until chiffon quits or sequins unionize, I, for one, will keep watching the cliffhanger episodes. Bring popcorn — and maybe a beaded thong (optional, but fashionable).