You see it every year. A woman walks onto a stage wearing a ten-foot-tall mechanical bird or a literal rotating Ferris wheel strapped to her back. People on the internet start making "Hunger Games" jokes immediately. It's easy to dismiss the miss universe national costume segment as pure camp, a sparkly fever dream that has nothing to do with "real" fashion.
But honestly? That’s where most people get it wrong.
Behind the sequins and the structural engineering—and yes, these things require actual engineers now—there’s a high-stakes game of soft power and cultural storytelling. It's not just a dress-up party. For many countries, this three-minute walk is the only time their specific regional history gets prime-time global coverage. In 2024, when Chelsea Manalo from the Philippines stepped out in her "Hiraya" ensemble, she wasn't just wearing fabric. She was wearing a history lesson on the Manila-Acapulco Galleon Trade, encrusted with Puni leaf folding and Inaul fabric.
It’s heavy. Literally. Some of these outfits weigh over 50 pounds.
The Myth of the "Traditional" Dress
People think "national costume" means a folk dress. Like, a simple kimono or a dirndl. Wrong. The Miss Universe Organization (MUO) doesn't actually want a museum piece. They want a "fantasy" version of the country.
The judging criteria usually break down into three main buckets:
- Creative Design (50%): How original is it? Did you just put on a flag, or did you turn your country’s leading export into a gown?
- Poise and Bearing (40%): Can you actually walk in the thing without falling over? This is harder than it looks when you have a 12-foot headpiece.
- Overall Impact (10%): That "wow" factor that makes people stop scrolling on Instagram.
Take the 2025 competition in Thailand. The winner, Ahtisa Manalo (Philippines), didn't just wear a pretty dress; she leaned into the "Power of Love" theme with a level of craftsmanship that felt more like architecture than clothing. Meanwhile, Miss Mexico, Fátima Bosch, who eventually took the whole Miss Universe 2025 crown, used the costume round to solidify her status as a frontrunner with a look that screamed "modern Aztec royalty."
It's about branding. If a contestant can’t sell a giant teapot (looking at you, Miss Sri Lanka), how is she going to sell the Miss Universe brand for a year?
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When Props Go Too Far
Sometimes the "impact" part of the score gets a little... weird.
Remember Miss USA 2024, Audrey Eckert? She walked out as a giant bald eagle. It was massive. It looked like something out of a Las Vegas residency. While some purists hated it, it did exactly what it was supposed to do: it went viral.
Then you have the mechanical ones. We've seen costumes with built-in LED screens, smoke machines, and wings that expand at the touch of a button. In 2024, Miss Chile, Emilia Dides, brought a "Sábado Gigante" wheel of fortune onto the stage. It was a tribute to Don Francisco and Chilean TV history. It was bizarre. It was huge. And it landed her in the Top 2 for the costume award because you literally couldn't look away.
But there’s a limit.
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There’s a famous story about Pamela Zarza, Miss Paraguay 1992. Her costume was 12 feet tall and so heavy she could barely move. She ended up blocking every other contestant behind her. It was iconic but also a logistical nightmare. Today, designers have to balance that "Big Stage Energy" with the reality that these women have to fly these things across the world.
The Architecture of a Winning Look
Designing a miss universe national costume is a months-long process. It usually starts with a "concept" that isn't just "my country is pretty."
- The Core Story: Designers like Manny Halasan or Michael Barassi look for a niche historical event or a specific regional craft. In 2023, Michelle Dee’s costume was an airplane. Why? Because she’s an Air Force reservist and she wanted to promote Philippine tourism.
- The Engineering: You can't just glue feathers to a corset. You need a harness. Most of the "big" costumes use a backpack-style frame made of lightweight aluminum or PVC.
- The Reveal: A good costume has a "moment." A cape that opens. A hat that flips. If the costume looks the same from the moment she walks on to the moment she walks off, she’s probably not winning.
Cultural Appropriation vs. Appreciation
This is the tricky part. In recent years, there’s been a lot of heat on contestants wearing indigenous motifs when they aren't from those communities.
The savvy ones now collaborate. For example, in 2025, several Latin American contestants worked directly with indigenous weavers to ensure the patterns weren't just "inspired by" but were actually authentic. This adds "E-E-A-T" (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) to the garment. It’s no longer just a costume; it’s a partnership.
Why the Fan Vote Changed Everything
The Miss Universe Organization realized a few years ago that the national costume is their biggest engagement driver. Now, the winner is often decided (or heavily influenced) by a fan vote on the official app.
This is why the Philippines wins so often. Their fan base is relentless.
Chelsea Manalo’s 2024 win was a back-to-back victory for the country, following Michelle Dee in 2023. It’s a mix of incredible design and a digital army that won't stop clicking until their girl wins. If you want to rank in this category, you have to be "meme-able" and "vote-able."
Actionable Insights for Pageant Fans
If you're watching the next cycle—likely heading toward 2026—don't just look at the glitter. Look for these three things to predict who will actually place:
- The Silhouette: Does it fill the stage? Tiny, "pretty" dresses almost never win the costume award. You need volume.
- The "Local" Flex: Look for specific materials. Pineapple fiber (Piña), recycled ocean plastic, or hand-painted silk. Judges love a "sustainability" or "heritage" angle.
- The Performance: Watch the face. If she looks like she's struggling to breathe because the corset is too tight or the wings are too heavy, her "Poise" score will tank. The best ones make a 40-pound rig look like a silk scarf.
To really dive into this world, follow the designers on Instagram rather than just the contestants. Designers like Manny Halasan or Axel Que often post the "making of" videos that show the literal blood, sweat, and hot glue that goes into these masterpieces. You'll see the 3D printing, the hand-embroidery, and the terrifying moment they try to fit a 10-foot wing into a shipping crate.
The miss universe national costume isn't going anywhere. If anything, it’s getting more technical. As we move into the 2026 season, expect more "smart" fabrics and perhaps even augmented reality elements. But at its heart, it will always be about a woman standing on a stage, carrying the weight of her country's history on her shoulders—and looking damn good doing it.
What to do next
If you're a designer or a hardcore fan, start your research by looking at the Miss Universe 2025 archives from the Thailand show. Pay attention to how the "Top 30" winners balanced their costume's weight with their movement. Study the transition from the 2024 Mexico City show to the Nonthaburi stage; you'll notice that "lightweight but high-volume" is the new industry standard. Check the official Miss Universe YouTube channel for the "behind-the-scenes" edits of the costume rehearsals to see the structural frames before the feathers go on.