In the 1970s, the Cannes Film Festival was an intimate spectacle of elegance wrapped in a veil of French restraint. The atmosphere carried echoes of post-war glamour—stylized, but not yet commercialized. Red carpets stretched underfoot, hemmed in by polished brass stanchions and thick velvet ropes. Surrounding the venues, heavy brocade drapes, dimly lit sconces, and gold-accented crown moldings framed the space in a kind of nostalgic opulence.
Furniture choices reflected the cinematic elitism of the era. Inside private lounges, the aesthetic leaned heavily on classic French salon culture. Tufted velvet sofas in deep burgundy or navy anchored the rooms. Louis XV–style chairs with curved legs and floral upholstery formed small conversation clusters. Gilt-framed coffee tables held crystal ashtrays and champagne coupes. These weren’t spaces for quick interactions—they were designed for dramatic, theatrical lingering.
Furniture served as more than mere decoration. It sent signals. The seating had weight—both literally and metaphorically. These chairs weren’t made to be rearranged on a whim. They rooted people to a position of stillness and prestige. Designers and festival organizers were not concerned with mobility or practicality. What mattered was image.
Iconic photographs of the time show stars like Catherine Deneuve perched elegantly on ornate armchairs, surrounded by a décor that resembled the backdrop of a European palace more than a press area. These were moments carefully staged by their surroundings, with furniture playing a silent but vital role in the composition.
Cannes, during this decade, was still largely a French affair. International studios were present but hadn’t yet asserted control over the visual language of the festival. As a result, the aesthetic was less about global luxury and more about French cultural dominance. It was cinematic aristocracy in plush form.
Even in public-facing areas, the furniture maintained a formal tone. Outdoor seating, for example, consisted of wrought iron café sets with stiff cushions. They weren’t designed for comfort. They were props for an ongoing visual narrative of exclusivity. This was an era where a chair wasn't just a chair—it was a throne for temporary royalty.
Chrome Dreams – The 1980s Arrival of Flash and Excess
By the 1980s, the Cannes Film Festival began to shimmer with the influence of global wealth and international branding. The arrival of American studios, corporate sponsors, and a growing obsession with celebrity changed the tone—and the furniture followed suit. Heavy baroque décor gave way to shinier, louder, and more photogenic materials.
Lucite chairs, chrome-framed lounge sets, and mirrored coffee tables became the norm in VIP areas. The once-muted palette of creams and reds exploded into high-contrast environments featuring metallic finishes, jet-black leather, and mirrored surfaces. The function of furniture started shifting toward spectacle.
Cocktail tables began carrying more than drinks. Many were branded—logo placements etched into glass or printed onto runners. Sponsored lounges introduced furniture designed to echo luxury but made for temporary installation. Faux-marble side tables, acrylic stools, and neon signage created a nightclub-like atmosphere within the Mediterranean sun.
Seating began to reflect hierarchy more visibly. VIP zones were not just roped off—they were furnished differently. Plush armchairs with angled backdrops created photo zones where celebrities would be encouraged (or required) to