Revving up the recent Oscars’ frenzy was Kim Kardashian’s arrival at the 2025 Pre-Oscars dinner in a Chanel relic: the ‘Jellyfish dress’ from the late Karl Lagerfeld’s Fall 1992 Couture collection, a piece that took several hands and over 100 hours to make. Kardashian, with the guidance of her stylist Danielle Levitt, has established herself as a high-priestess of wearable history. She’s led the charge in celebrity styling’s increasingly voracious appetite for rare pieces. From Princess Diana’s Atallah Cross necklace to Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Mr. President’ dress, the reality TV star-turned-businesswoman has amassed a museum’s worth of archival looks. But is this truly a revival of fashion history in motion? Clothes, after all, are meant to be worn. 

Archival fashion is a new-age status symbol, an investment in legacy, and a marker of cultural fluency. Wearing the past is more than an aesthetic choice—it flaunts an allegiance to fashion’s lineage and a deep understanding of its history. Stepping onto the red carpet in a rare archival piece is about staking a claim in fashion’s ongoing narrative. 

“An archive is a living blockchain of memory,” says London-based archivist Isabel Bonner. “Archival clothing holds not just moments in time but also the hours of creation—designers, teams, runway shows, and the personal collections they enter. As these garments move into the archive phase, they continue to evolve through shoots, images, and red carpet moments, adding new layers to their story.”

But where do the pieces celebrities wear actually come from? “We have been collecting for almost 30 years, sourcing pieces from around the world,” says Katy Rodriguez, founder of LA-based Resurrection Vintage, whose archive includes early Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren, John Galliano, and Margiela. Private collectors, vintage boutiques, and even designers’ own archives serve as primary sources, making these garments as much about acquisition as they are about appreciation.

For celebrities, access to archival pieces is often brokered through a tight network of stylists and collectors. “In the past, everyone would come into the store, but today, it’s mostly stylists who visit,” says Rodriguez. “The concept of a store in 2025 is very different from what it was in 1996. Most transactions and interactions now occur digitally.” Rather than browsing racks in person, stylists now secure rare pieces for their clients via direct relationships with archivists.

Take, for example, Zendaya’s amoresque robot suit sourced by stylist Law Roach from Thierry Mugler’s 1995 Couture collection. Perfectly aligned with the aesthetics of Dune: Part Two, the look was worn during the film’s press tour and transformed Zendaya from a simple lover of fashion to a reference point within it.

Unlike contemporary runway looks that can be bought, copied, and mass-produced, designer archive pieces are often one-of-a-kind. Some have never even been worn off the runway. They are fragile, irreplaceable, and steeped in meaning. 

“People think owning archival pieces is just about having something rare,” says London-based stylist Vincent Pons. “But real archivists know it’s about responsibility. These garments are history. You don’t just wear them—you inherit them.” 

The recent boom in archival fashion, he suggests, is partly due to the rise of social media and the demand for styling moments that feel cinematic. “It’s not just about looking good anymore—it’s about telling a story,” Pons explains. “Wearing archival pieces connects celebrities to fashion history, and that’s something people respond to.” 

Beyond spectacle, Pons also notes that luxury fashion itself has changed. “A lot of new collections don’t have the same weight anymore,” he says. “Everything moves so fast now. When someone wears archival, it signals something different—it has meaning.”

In an era when fashion’s environmental impact looms large, archival dressing has also been positioned as a glamorous alternative to mass consumption. Why commission something new when you can turn to history’s storied archives?

Scarlett Johansson wore a Thierry Mugler gown from the designer’s Fall/Winter 1999-2000 Couture collection for this year’s Oscars ceremony. Rihanna reignited interest in Christian Lacroix by stepping out in a fantastical blue couture ensemble from his Fall/Winter 2002 collection at last year’s Fashion Awards dinner. Each of these choices undoubtedly encourages a wider public to seek out vintage with intention, a positive rebuttal to the toxic immediacy of fast fashion. 

It’s important to note that there is a fundamental difference between archival and vintage. Each archival garment is carefully housed in controlled environments, protected from light, heat, and time. Many archivists hold formal conservation qualifications and possess an intimate knowledge of each piece. 

“People underestimate how delicate these pieces are,” says Pons. “A dress from the ’90s might still have some wearability, but something from the ’50s or earlier? That fabric is often disintegrating. Even exposure to air can accelerate its breakdown.”  

Skin oils, perfume, makeup, and even the simple friction of movement also subtly erode the fabric. For this reason, The International Council of Museums adamantly maintains that historic garments “should not be worn by anybody, public or private figures.”

This prickly conversation erupted in full force when Kim Kardashian wore Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President’ dress to the 2022 Met Gala. For some, her decision to wear the sheer, jewel-encrusted gown was an act of fashion sacrilege—theft, not tribute. A garment that once symbolized sex, scandal, and spectacle was now too fragile to be worn. The backlash escalated when rumors flew that she had returned the gown damaged, with missing crystals and weakened seams—claims that were later debunked. Perhaps some garments aren’t meant to have too many lives, and rewearing risks reducing their historical weight to an attention-grabbing gimmick.

It’s for this reason that many archivists refuse to lend out certain garments. Instead, they require they be bought outright so that any alterations or damages are at the owner’s own risk. But as more celebrities scoop up archival pieces, there are fewer left for museums and the general public. It warns of a privatization of fashion history, in which only celebrities or the ultra-wealthy can participate. 

“You see it happening already,” says Pons. “Some of the most important pieces of fashion history aren’t in museums—they’re in private storage, tucked away in climate-controlled vaults. The more that happens, the harder it becomes for people to learn from these garments.” 

Says Bonner, “Fashion is about storytelling and creativity, and everyone in the industry should have the opportunity to engage with the legacy of these iconic garments, regardless of their status.”

As demand for archival fashion grows, so does its price. When Kim Kardashian purchased the aforementioned Atallah Cross necklace, bidding far exceeded the auction estimate of $101,000 to $153,000—she ultimately paid $197,453 for the piece. 

The rise of celebrity archival fashion is a knotty debate to untangle. Even if it is rooted in good intentions—sustainability, an homage to fashion’s great designers and muses—it risks excluding a larger public. Is it enough that we get to consume them momentarily, via social media? Or is it a gilded gatekeeping of fashion’s most precious relics, where history is no longer preserved for all, but claimed by Hollywood’s elite?

If fashion history is to be honored rather than hoarded, true reverence lies not in exclusivity, but in longevity.