At Cannes 2025, actor Ruchi Gujjar walked the red carpet in a gold lehenga — opulent, regal, photogenic. But it was the necklace she wore, featuring a custom pendant with Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s face on it, that turned heads and triggered debate. A tribute to “India’s strength and global ascent,” she explained. In a single moment, fashion became politics. But the bigger question remains — was it representation, or merely performance?
Red carpets aren’t just about gowns and glamour — they are platforms of soft power, self-expression, and cultural diplomacy. From the Met Gala to the Venice Film Festival, global celebrities use fashion to tell stories, provoke conversations, and sometimes challenge systems. Think Billie Eilish in repurposed Oscar de la Renta, or Kristen Stewart in bare feet, dismantling red carpet norms one stride at a time. Fashion here is a language, a way to assert identity, values, and narratives on a global stage.
But what about Indian celebrities? Time and again, India’s most visible faces have shown up in borrowed silhouettes, indistinct styling, and symbolism that confuses rather than communicates. Political motifs, excessive ornamentation, or vague nods to tradition take precedence over intention, personal voice, or storytelling. The result? A surface-level spectacle that dazzles in pixels but fades in meaning.
This year at Cannes, two Indian women told starkly different stories. Ruchi Gujjar offered spectacle, a dazzling ensemble paired with a political message. Meanwhile, content creator Nancy Tyagi stitched her own gown using local fabrics, simple tools, and sheer dedication. Her presence was unfiltered and quietly powerful. Tyagi represented what Indian fashion could be: Sustainable, self-made, culturally rooted, and globally relevant. Gujjar, on the other hand, epitomised a growing trend of red carpet tokenism, where identity is commodified, symbols deployed without context, and intention lost in translation.
Indian celebrities often arrive at global events in borrowed gowns and generic styling. Even when traditional Indian elements appear, they tend to be aestheticised rather than contextualised. The issue isn’t merely taste or politics — it’s cultural literacy. Our appearances on these global platforms often lack depth because we treat them as photo opportunities rather than moments of cultural authorship. It’s not that India lacks a rich fashion vocabulary — we certainly do — but we seem hesitant to speak in our own voice.
Nancy Tyagi’s rise is more than a feel-good story; it’s a blueprint for how Indian fashion representation can be reimagined. By combining storytelling, craftsmanship, and accessibility, she proved that one does not need a luxury label to command respect and attention. Her strength lay in sincerity. This is the model India should build on: A fashion identity rooted in self-reliance, inclusive of our craftspeople, and intentional in its messaging. Imagine Indian celebrities collaborating with local artisans, curating red carpet moments that express who we truly are, rather than just how expensive we can appear.
When we reduce fashion to mere glitter and iconography — whether it’s a designer logo or the face of a political figure — we lose the opportunity to say something meaningful and enduring. Red carpets are not simply stages for performance; they are platforms to articulate values, voices, and visions. India is undoubtedly a fashion powerhouse. But power without purpose risks becoming noise.
The next time we step onto the world stage, may we do so not just dressed for the camera, but dressed with conscience, clarity, and meaning.
The writer is assistant professor of design at IILM University, Gurugram and Regional Editor (Asia), Bloomsbury Fashion Business Cases, Bloomsbury Publishing