Few designers have choreographed glamour with the unapologetic boldness of Bob Mackie. Interchangeably referred to as the “Sultan of Sequins,” the “Rajah of Rhinestones,” and the “Guru of Glitter,” Mackie has whipped up a fantasy universe of sequins, feathers, sheer fabrics, and disruptive elegance for over seven decades. Dressing legends like Cher, Tina Turner, Diana Ross—mother of Marie Claire UK cover star, Tracee Ellis Ross—and a constellation of iconic stars whose public personas became inseparable from his dresses, Mackie has himself become an icon.
His signature, a mix of showgirl‑glamour and couture, has changed what it means for a woman to stand out. “A woman who wears my clothes is not afraid to be noticed,” Mackie once said, and at a time when women were often expected to disappear elegantly into the background, Mackie engineered outfits that refused to be overlooked.
For more than half a century, he has been fashion’s master of high-voltage glamour. Now, as a selection of his iconic creations goes on auction as part of the Bold Luxury collection at Julien’s Auctions, we revisit his iconic legacy of liberating women from staid style.
Cher at the 1986 Academy Awards Ceremony wearing an outfit by Bob Mackie.
Bob Mackie was born in 1939 in Monterey Park, California. As a teenager, he was enraptured by the vibrant Technicolor of early Hollywood: musicals, stage shows, and cabaret were the genesis of his inspiration and would remain a defining influence for decades.
After a brief stint studying at the Chouinard Art Institute, he began sketching for film studios, working under the legendary costume designer Edith Head at Paramount and also with couture legend Jean Louis. The legendary “naked” marquisette gown drenched in 2,500 rhinestones worn by Marilyn Monroe in 1962 when she breathily serenaded JFK, and later worn by Kim Kardashian, was originally sketched by Mackie.
These formative experiences honed both his flair for the dramatic and instinct for celebrity image‑making. But the show really started when he moved into TV variety shows. While the studio heads of the time might have dismissed the ‘small screen,’ Mackie—ever ahead of his time—realised its potential not just for bold costume design, but as a powerful medium capable of reaching far more people than cinema ever could.
In the ’60s and ’70s, Mackie became the costume designer for programs like The Carol Burnett Show. Over its 11-year run, he created an astonishing 17,000 outfits for Burnett and her guests. This meant that every week, regular folks at home could step into his vision of glamour: sequins, feathers, lashings of every specimen of sparkle. Fantasy fashion, under Mackie’s direction, was no longer the reserve of aristocrats, actors, and elites. Instead, this performance of femininity became accessible to all. This shift wouldn’t stay confined to TV either. Suddenly, fashion for women didn’t have to be quiet, minimal, or understated to be taken seriously.
Carol Burnett (L) and Cher (R) in 1975.
With an archive as extensive and firmly cemented in the public imagination as Mackie’s, no single creation could define his legacy. But, for the purposes of brevity, if you had to try, most would land on the legendary “naked‑illusion” gown he made for Cher’s appearance at the 1974 Met Gala. Translucent, with artfully positioned vines of sequins and whispery feathers tracing the outline of her sinuous figure, the gown has been homaged ad infinitum. Most recently, on Dsquared2’s Autumn/Winter 2025 runway, when Amelia Gray stormed the catwalk in a cappuccino-hued rendition, all dark, poker-straight hair and heavily kohled eyes à la Cher.
As Mackie recalled in an interview with Vogue, the dress created “a lot of hubbub.” Some cities even banned the magazines with Cher on the cover. In his words: “How often do you get a girl that looks like that, dressed like that, on the cover of Time magazine?”
But to consider it simply scandalous is almost to miss the point. The gown reframed the female body not as something to hide or control, but as something to celebrate. Given that this was in the ‘70s, a time when feminism, sexual liberation, and shifting mores were all in flux, a dress like that wasn’t just fashion or even fantasy; it was a statement.
With the benefit of hindsight, cultural critics acknowledge that what the dress was really doing was daring to ask: Who owns the female body? Who decides when and how she shows it? No wonder the legacy of that specific gown echoes so plainly in red‑carpet looks (more to come on that), editorial shoots, and aforementioned runway shows.
Mackie’s creative relationship with Cher began with TV in the late ’60s and blossomed across decades of reinvention: hippie‑era beginnings, disco glamour, ballgowns, tour costumes, a dizzying array of red‑carpet looks.
Cher herself said, in reference to Mackie’s designs: “Without Bob I would have been … a peacock without feathers.” But Cher was far from alone. Tina Turner was another standout collaborator. For her 1977 Las Vegas residency, Mackie created a gold-and-silver chain‑fringe bodysuit replete with lamé wings. Another sartorial statement, the look captured a moment of transformation: Turner, newly independent and triumphant, emerging as a solo powerhouse. “She was born to be on stage,” Mackie recalled in a recent interview with People.
Collaborations with some of music’s most powerful women were about more than dresses; they became beacons of identity, freedom, and reinvention at a time when women weren’t easily awarded such things. Women of colour, women in their 40s and 50s, who might have been cast aside a decade earlier, could communicate their presence through a new language of style.
Tina Turner wears a Bob Mackie creation while performing at the Las Vegas Entertainment Awards in 1977.
Each era has seen a new generation of stars embrace Bob Mackie’s iconic aesthetic. Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Miley Cyrus, and Dua Lipa have all worn or referenced his dizzyingly glamorous style. When Zendaya inducted Cher into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame last year, there was only one designer to turn to. For the ceremony, Zendaya, with the help of her longtime stylist and collaborator Law Roach—a creative powerhouse pairing reminiscent of Mackie and Cher’s partnership—opted for an archival gold gown with a criss-cross, ab-bearing bodice evocative of styles worn by Cher in the ’70s. Poker-straight, bum-grazing hair and glowy makeup completed the homage. Emily Ratajkowski also embraced Bob Mackie’s legendary designs at the 2019 Met Gala, when she wore a custom Peter Dundas nude and silver embroidered cut-out gown; while the cited inspiration was Cher, the winged headpiece also called to mind Tina Turner’s lamé feathers.
Mackie’s influence goes beyond celebrities wearing his designs; his creations have been reinterpreted and celebrated by today’s fashion icons. In 2018, in a full-circle moment, he worked on The Cher Show, designing the costumes for the Tony Award-winning Broadway musical and even playing a character in the show. Far from being relegated to the past, Mackie’s legacy is alive and well, with new generations channelling his extravagant, larger-than-life style.
Zendaya at the 2024 Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame Induction Ceremony.
What Mackie started on stage gradually seeped into mainstream fashion. Sequins, dazzle, and drama became integral to the red carpet and everyday style. Today, it would be unusual for a red carpet not to feature body-con silhouettes, sheer fabrics, and glittering embellishments — all Mackie signatures. Even ready-to-wear labels borrow from his visual language. As friends and critics noted in Vogue’s 2019 oral history: “Everybody designing red-carpet dresses today owes him a debt.”
His influence spans both pop culture and couture. Throughout the decades, Mackie has proved that luxury isn’t only about subdued elegance; it can, and often should, be loud, proud, and unapologetic. Life lived in full, glorious Technicolour — just like the classic Hollywood films he grew up watching.
In a world still negotiating female agency, Mackie’s designs defend a woman’s right to be seen. That is just one reason why newer and newer artists are rediscovering his aesthetic. As Mr. Mackie himself said, watching a young generation wear his archival looks: “This generation is telling us how they want to live.”
