The Revival Of Catholic Aesthetics: Why Sacred Beauty Is Captivating The Culture Again

It was unmistakable at Pope Leo XIV’s inaugural Mass in Rome. The visual impact was impossible to ignore: crimson robes cascading down marble steps, bishops in gilded mitres, women in lace veils reminiscent of centuries past, and all with Michaelangelo’s designs as a backdrop. There was no chaos, no confusion—only order, harmony, and sacred symbolism. This wasn't a performance. It was liturgy. And yet, even the most secular eyes couldn’t look away.

Sacred Beauty Still Speaks

In an age that glorifies individualism and shrugs at beauty as a form of truth, the Catholic Church still dresses like she believes in eternity. Priests wear gold, not for their sake but the sake of their duty, calling, and responsibility. The women veil themselves as a sign of reverence and an acknowledgement of the sacredness of the ocasion. The architecture echoes whispers of heaven. Even the dress code at Mass is charged with spiritual meaning.

One detail stood out: the “privilege of the white”—a tradition allowing only seven royal Catholic women in the world (typically queens and princesses) to wear white in the Pope’s presence. Everyone else, regardless of wealth, power, or fame, wears black. It’s a visual language of humility, hierarchy, and honor. And it reminded us that true beauty is tied to virtue and often involves knowing one’s place within something greater.

How The Church Has Shaped Fashion

This isn’t the first time Catholic aesthetics have captivated the cultural imagination. Fashion has borrowed from the Church for decades—sometimes reverently, other times provocatively. But the influence is undeniable.

Coco Chanel 

Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel, known to the world as Coco Chanel, was shaped not in the salons of Paris but within the stone walls of a convent orphanage. After her mother’s death, she was sent to Aubazine Abbey, a Cistercian monastery in central France, where she was raised by nuns of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance—a community known for their discipline, silence, and profound devotion. More on that in her biographical film which is currently free on YouTube!

It was there, in the rhythm of prayer and simplicity, that Chanel first encountered the quiet beauty of restraint. The nuns’ habits were stark: black and white, unadorned, and timeless. Their way of life was orderly, intentional, and free of excess. This visual and spiritual environment left a lasting imprint on young Gabrielle, who would later distill those same qualities into her groundbreaking designs.

The clean lines of her iconic little black dress, her love for monochrome palettes, and even her use of costume pearls—which mimicked the rosaries she saw daily—were all rooted in the aesthetic minimalism of those habits. She once said, “Simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance.” That belief was born in the convent, where beauty was never loud, but always meaningful. 

In many ways, Chanel’s revolutionary style—often hailed as modern and rebellious—was actually an echo of ancient religious sensibility: a reverence for form, function, and dignity. What she brought to haute couture was not just fashion, but a philosophy of disciplined grace—one she first learned from veiled women who took vows of silence, not selfies. Their habits were the original uniform of intentional living: modest, minimalist, and steeped in meaning.

Perhaps this is why we now call it quiet luxury—an aesthetic that values subtlety over status, craftsmanship over logos, and timelessness over trends. In today’s world, quiet luxury has become a hallmark of elevated taste, but its roots stretch far deeper than celebrity closets or elite runways. Chanel’s early exposure to the restrained elegance of monastic life gave her a lifelong reverence for simplicity as the ultimate sophistication. Hers wasn’t just a fashion revolution—it was a return to something sacred.

Dolce & Gabbana 

Dolce & Gabbana, more than any other major fashion house, have made Catholic iconography a hallmark of their brand. Their collections are known for embroidering Madonnas onto silk gowns, adorning models with bejeweled rosaries, golden crowns, and Baroque crosses, and sending them down the runway like Sicilian saints in procession. Each show is a visual liturgy—dramatic, symbolic, and steeped in a deep cultural reverence for the sacred.

But their connection to Catholicism runs deeper than aesthetic. Their marketing campaigns often promote traditional values, particularly the beauty of family, motherhood, and generational legacy. They’ve featured real Italian grandmothers in their advertisements, emphasized the closeness between mothers and daughters, and portrayed family meals with reverent intimacy—scenes that feel more like Renaissance paintings than modern fashion ads. In one campaign, models cradle infants while dressed in black lace, echoing images of the Madonna and Child, elevating maternity into something regal and holy.

Even when Dolce & Gabbana’s work flirts with sensuality, it does so with the theatricality of a high Mass—intense, emotional, and always framed by a sense of reverence for something greater. Their designs never mock Catholicism; they honor it, tapping into the visual richness of Southern Italian piety where processions, relics, and feast days are still a part of daily life.

In a fashion world that often treats religion as a costume or controversy, Dolce & Gabbana dare to treat it as a source of inspiration—and even identity.

This runs so deep, that Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana got themselves in trouble in 2015 for echoing the Catholic Church’s views on IVF and same sex marriage adoptions. "We oppose gay adoptions," they told an Italian magazine —Panorama. "The only family is the traditional one." While a gay couple themselves, they argued that the traditional and theological view of marriage was simply different from what a same sex partnership is. Elton John led the boycott and Dolce and Gabbana apologized for the insensitivity in their tone, but never really backed down from their position. 

Alexander McQueen

Then there’s Alexander McQueen, whose fascination with death, ritual, and redemption drew heavily from Catholic Gothic art and the mysticism of the Middle Ages. His signature use of lace, crucifix silhouettes, skulls, and chiaroscuro lighting often evoked cathedrals and confessionals more than catwalks. The skull, in particular, became an iconic motif in his work—not as a symbol of rebellion, but as a memento mori: a visual reminder of mortality. Medieval Catholic saints, mystics, and monks often kept skulls on their desks for this same reason—to contemplate the fleeting nature of life and focus the soul on eternal things. McQueen, a designer both tormented and transcendent, tapped into this tradition to express the tension between beauty and decay, life and death, sin and salvation. In many ways, his runway was a modern reflection of the medieval Church’s aesthetic philosophy: to confront darkness not with despair, but with haunting, sacred beauty.

Even Valentino, Dior, and Givenchy—designers known for their grace and discipline—have drawn from Catholic forms. Long capes, high necklines, and veils evoking Marian iconography, all pointing to the same visual philosophy found in a cathedral: beauty filled with symbolism and purpose.

Why Catholic Beauty Endures

So why now? Why are so many women, Catholic or not, captivated by the aesthetics hitting our screens during this Conclave? Because beauty heals. Because beauty orders. And because beauty, when grounded in truth, is not merely aesthetic—it’s transformational.

The Catholic Church has always understood this. The vestments, the incense, the stained glass—all of it is meant to remind us that we are not just bodies in a material world, but souls in search of something more. In a culture that prizes comfort, efficiency, and self-centeredness, the Church dares to say: Slow down. Look up to the transcendental. Admire its beauty. Wear it.

A Culture Quietly Turning Back

We saw a glimpse of this return during the 2018 Met Gala with its theme, “Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination.” Though controversial, it revealed something important: even a postmodern world still finds the Church’s beauty irresistible. Why? Because Catholicism never tried to be trendy. It was always timeless and filled with deep messages about God and our relationship with Him.

Now, younger generations are seeking meaning again and the Catholic aesthetic is filled with it. It may be out of a bit of nostalgia, but ultimately, I think culturally we’ve come to agree with something the Church has always preached: beauty is meant to lift us up and heal our ache or desire for more than what this world can offer. 

At its core, the Catholic aesthetic revival isn’t just about fashion—it’s about recovering reverence. It’s about understanding that what we wear, what we build, and how we move through the world can speak of deeper truths. In this case, the truths of classic virtues and a deep reverence for the divine, not as something far gone or out of reach, but something we are part of. 

Pope Leo XIV’s inaugural Mass was a reminder that beauty still belongs to the sacred. And the sacred still belongs to us.