For years, a quiet yet persistent question has floated among viewers right before the Lunar New Year's Eve: Will traditional Hanfu make an appearance on the Spring Festival Gala this time? It is a query loaded with anticipation, reflecting a growing public desire to see China's own historical attire celebrated on its biggest television stage.
The answer is rarely straightforward, often involving a mix of subtle nods, full-blown spectacles, and sometimes, controversial misses. By looking back at recent galas, we can trace a fascinating journey of how Hanfu has gradually, and sometimes awkwardly, found its place in the national spotlight, moving from a niche interest to a topic of mainstream discussion.
A Glimpse of Glory and a Dash of Modernity
The most recent Spring Festival Gala, in 2025, offered a mixed bag for Hanfu enthusiasts. It did not feature a dedicated segment for traditional clothing, yet the attire was undeniably present. The opening sequence showcased internet celebrity Li Ziqi (李子柒), who wore an outfit inspired by Ming-style Hanfu. It featured a standing collar and a diagonal closure, but it was noticeably tailored with modern, figure-hugging techniques, a departure from the looser fit of historical garments. The piece cleverly retained traditional elements like the Zhuang Hua (妆花) woven cloud collar pattern across the shoulders, while the skirt used a gradient, plant-based dye, creating a bridge between ancient craftsmanship and contemporary fashion.
Another significant representation came from a different venue. At the Jiangsu Wuxi sub-venue of the same 2025 gala, dancer Tang Shiyi (唐诗逸) performed in what could be considered a more faithful reproduction. Her costume was a classic Tang dynasty-style ensemble, consisting of a half-sleeve jacket, a cross-collared undershirt, a wrapped skirt, and an additional apron-like piece reminiscent of a Bi Xi (蔽膝).
Designers revealed that the color palette was directly inspired by the famous painting "Spring Morning in the Han Palace (汉宫春晓)", a detail that connected the performance not just to clothing, but to a broader context of classical art and aesthetics. These appearances, though fleeting, signaled that Hanfu, in both adapted and reconstructed forms, had a place on the gala's periphery.
The Peak of Representation: A Walk Through Dynasties
If one had to pick a single year where Hanfu was the undisputed star, 2024 would be it. The segment titled Nian Jin (年锦), or "Brocade of the Ages," was arguably the most comprehensive and visually stunning display of traditional Hanfu on the gala to date. It was an educational and artistic journey, using augmented reality backgrounds to transport viewers through time. Actresses Liu Tao (刘涛), Liu Shishi (刘诗诗), Li Qin (李沁), and Guan Xiaotong (关晓彤) embodied four distinct archetypal looks from the Han, Tang, Song, and Ming dynasties.
Every detail, from the intricate hairstyles and makeup to the specific cuts and fabric patterns, was meticulously researched. The segment did not just show beautiful dresses; it illustrated the evolution of Han Chinese aesthetics across centuries. The flowing, elegant lines of the Song dynasty robe contrasted sharply with the stately, elaborate layers of the Ming dynasty attire.
For many viewers, it was the first time they had seen such a clear and respectful presentation of their ancestral clothing on a national platform. It served as a powerful visual encyclopedia, demonstrating that Hanfu is not a single, static style but a rich and evolving tradition, and it set a high bar for how cultural heritage could be presented in a mainstream entertainment context.
A Step Backward and the Road to Recognition
However, the path to the success of 2024 was paved with some significant missteps. A stark reminder came in 2021, when a fashion house, Gaiya Legend (盖娅传说), presented a segment they billed as a tribute to traditional Chinese costume. Instead of drawing from authentic sources, the designs were a puzzling mix of Western religious iconography and unrelated elements. This "Chinese fashion show" drew sharp criticism from the public, who felt it was a misrepresentation of their culture.
The backlash was so strong that it inadvertently sparked a more profound national conversation: What should "Chinese style" truly look like? The incident forced both designers and the public to think more critically about the difference between creative inspiration and cultural distortion.
This debate was not new. Years earlier, in 2015, a segment called Spring Radiance (大地春晖) had ignited a firestorm of online protest. In the program, performers representing various ethnic minorities appeared in their traditional attire, but the performer representing the Han Chinese majority wore a modified Qipao. For many, this was the final straw. It highlighted a long-standing confusion in the public eye between Hanfu, the historical clothing of the Han people, and the Qipao, which is a 20th-century creation. The outcry was immediate and loud, with netizens demanding an apology.
The "Hanfu Apology Incident" became a watershed moment. It forced state media and the broader public to confront their own lack of knowledge and pushed the Hanfu revival movement from the fringes into a more visible, vocal advocacy for accurate representation. From that controversy, the slow but steady march toward the respectful and researched displays seen in later years truly began.
