A recurrent sight on headlines since childhood, Miley Cyrus’ name has, since her first steps on Disney, been tied to more viral moments than we can probably count. Through both ups and downs, triumphs and scandals, the 32-year-old singer-slash-actress has consistently kept a tight grip on the public’s attention, evolving into one of the main architects of the internet’s obsession economy — often without trying or even wanting to. And while our region has typically stayed somewhat stoic, if not totally indifferent, to her controversies, that status-quo might have just changed over the past few days. Why? As a result of a dress she was spotted wearing not long ago.
At a private reception held at The Carlyle Hotel in New York, the ex-Hannah Montana star was seen draped in what appeared to be a modern take on the Karakou; a traditional Algerian dress dating back to the 19th century and that is still worn today whenever the situation calls for it. Usually worn at celebratory events, big occasions or family gatherings, this particular cut of cloth is a quintessential element of Algerian fashion, carrying with it the history of a nation and the pride of a people each time it is donned.
And you don’t need a PhD in North African textile to catch the reference. The look, which was designed and put together by American luxury label Thom Browne, does indeed lift elements straight out of the Karakou playbook, yet, neither the brand nor Cyrus acknowledged the garments’ obvious roots. Naturally, the internet did what it does best: filled a comment section box with questions, this time asking why a garment so culturally heavy and charged could slip by without a single credit. And that leads us to asking ourselves a larger question: do celebrities have a responsibility to cite the cultural origins of what they wear — and more importantly — why does it matter so much when they don’t?
From a purely pragmatic standpoint, no one’s forced to give a full breakdown of what they wear every time they get dressed. No one expects a dissertation on denim just because someone wears jeans. Sometimes, style is just that: style. But when Western celebrities wear garments rooted in non-Western cultures, the expectations shift as there’s often a demand for acknowledgment — a name-drop, a caption, a reference. But why? Is it about visibility? Recognition? A desire to be seen, cited, credited? Probably. Is it that Western co-signs still carry disproportionate weight? Are we still, on some level, waiting to be validated by them? Or is it more because we know that when they wear it, they’re showing them to audiences who might never otherwise see them, and need to hear it spelled out because if they don’t, someone else will get the credit, and the culture gets reduced to a moodboard reference. Either way, it raises the same uncomfortable question: are we still putting the Western gaze on a pedestal, even when we’re trying, so badly, to challenge and move away from it?
In speaking with Algerian content creator Iyas Begriche, who’s built his platform around spotlighting Algerian culture, I started finding answers to my own questions as although the above concerns can, and do indeed, hold some water, the reality for someone from the North African republic itself is very different. As the first concerned by the erasure of their own symbols, the conversation is less about theoretical responsibility and more about the right to cultural ownership. And from what the young opinion leader told us, it seems as if there’s a long, quite disturbing, pattern of inspiration being taken, stylized, and repackaged, all while the original source remains left out of frame, if not deliberately ignored.
“At first, I was surprised when I saw the news about Miley Cyrus wearing a Karakou — and honestly, I was happy. I immediately checked to see if she’d mentioned it was an Algerian creation… but no. It felt like a letdown. Not a single word, even though it’s undeniably Algerian — and specifically from Algiers,” Begriche told MILLE. “That said, I’m not really surprised. A lot of people have a habit of borrowing from our culture without giving credit. It’s nothing new — she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last,” he added.
As he explains, Miley Cyrus isn’t necessarily the problem — she’s part of a broader ecosystem where cultural references are often lifted, glamorized, and globalized without context. In this system, recognition rarely flows back to the traditions being borrowed from, especially when they originate from the Global South. And there’s an undeniable power dynamic at play — one that often feels top-down, where the dominant takes from the marginalized, and rarely the other way around. And naturally, that imbalance can be frustrating.
At Paris Haute Couture Week in February for example, Chanel showcased a look that read like a love letter to the traditional Algerian Naili dress — without the signature. Everything from the fabric, the silhouette, the styling, and even the accessories mirrored the original with near-clinical precision. But no context, no credit, and certainly no mention of the culture it was taken from to be seen. Sure, cultural references are everywhere in fashion. But when the inspiration is that obvious and the origin goes unmentioned, it starts to feel less like homage and more like appropriation, especially like we said before, when it comes from a dominating culture or worse, a brand from a former colonial power of yours. A little credit — a caption, a line in the press notes isn’t asking for much. Especially when the culture being borrowed from is already underrepresented on the world stage.

“Today, anyone can wear something of Algerian origin and attribute it to someone else. We don’t have much visibility — or at best, we’re just starting to gain some. And in that context, it’s easy to mislead someone who’s discovering the garment, the tradition, or the custom for the first time. It’s frustrating. Algeria is beginning to open up to tourism, and that visibility is welcome. We want to show that we, too, have a rich cultural heritage — and that people are drawing inspiration from it.”
And what he says is true. Who’s going to challenge Chanel if they’re not Algerian or don’t know the full backstory? The same goes for Miley Cyrus. Take the way other outlets described the dress in question. Suddenly, the Karakou isn’t a Karakou anymore. According to Harper’s Bazaar, it’s “a high-collared military-style jacket with structured shoulders and dainty hook-and-eye buttons that continued down to the matching pencil skirt’s front slit.” Given their audience, most readers will walk away thinking it’s a clever Thom Browne original — not a garment rooted in centuries of Algerian heritage. And honestly? You’d be right to feel annoyed.
So no, it’s not necessarily about seeking Western validation. It’s about the fact that these platforms — not ours — are showing our culture to their audiences, who will likely end up crediting them, not us. And that’s the part that stings. Nothing more, nothing less.