10 Times Governments Banned Colors for Bizarre Reasons

When we think of banned things, we tend to imagine books, political speech, or the occasional controversial cartoon. But throughout history, governments have cracked down on something far stranger: colors. Whether tied to class, ideology, or sheer paranoia, certain shades have been restricted, outlawed, or made dangerous to wear—all because they said too much without saying a word.

From emperors hoarding purple dye to modern regimes treating red roses like contraband, color has often carried more political weight than a manifesto. Here are 10 times governments didn’t just see red… they banned it.

Related: 10 Social Customs from Around the World That Confuse Tourists

10 Ancient Rome: Purple Reserved for Emperors Only

In Ancient Rome, Tyrian purple was more than a color—it was a signal flare of power. The dye came from the murex sea snail, native to the eastern Mediterranean. Extracting just a few drops required crushing thousands of snails, making even a single garment astronomically expensive. The robes dyed with this deep, bluish-purple hue emitted a foul odor due to the fermentation process. Yet that stench became associated with authority, as only the richest—and most powerful—could afford it. Eventually, laws emerged to restrict its use to specific imperial ranks. By the third century CE, wearing purple without permission was considered treason.

Roman historians record that Emperor Caligula was so paranoid about threats to his image that he ordered people executed for wearing clothing that even resembled purple in the wrong context. Under Emperor Aurelian, the prohibition was extended to his own wife—he denied her a silk garment dyed in Tyrian purple, citing the expense. Even accessories could be grounds for suspicion; a senator arriving at a banquet with a tunic bearing a slightly too-bold stripe might find himself interrogated or worse.

When the Byzantine Empire inherited Rome’s traditions, they took the obsession further. Emperors began referring to themselves as “born in the purple.” New royal births were celebrated in rooms painted entirely in the sacred color. That level of theatrical exclusivity made purple a literal birthright. The color’s sacredness became so embedded in the culture that its use was equated with divine authority. Power wore purple—everyone else, under penalty of death, did not.^[1]

9 North Korea: Blue Jeans as a Tool of Imperialism

In most countries, jeans are a universal staple. In North Korea, they’re a symbol of ideological contamination. The regime’s distrust of blue jeans began with their association with the United States—specifically the “cowboy capitalism” and rebellion of the postwar West. Kim Il-Sung, the country’s founder, enforced cultural isolation to keep out what he called “American spiritual pollution.” Blue denim, with its casual defiance and origin story rooted in Levi Strauss’s Gold Rush-era innovation, was a direct threat to the image of the ideal, obedient North Korean worker.

State-controlled fashion guidance replaced personal style. Propaganda warned citizens that blue jeans were signs of corruption and moral decay. Even the cut of pants was scrutinized—tight jeans or American-style baggy fits were forbidden, with school uniforms and workplace attire doubling as surveillance mechanisms. Young people caught smuggling or wearing Western clothing faced public shaming, fines, or forced ideological re-education. This campaign reached such intensity that surveillance teams were stationed in border cities like Sinuiju to inspect travelers’ clothes for any “hostile fabric choices.”

Still, smuggled jeans—especially American-made ones—circulated in the black market, sold at steep prices. Possessing Levi’s became both a fashion statement and an act of rebellion. Sometimes, citizens dyed their jeans darker or turned them inside out to avoid detection while still participating in underground style. North Korea never issued a formal legal code banning jeans outright, but the social and political risk of wearing them made the restriction very real. The fabric became a battleground for cultural allegiance.^[2]

8 16th-Century England: Only Royals Could Wear Crimson

In Elizabethan England, what you wore wasn’t just about taste—it was your legal status stitched into cloth. The Statutes of Apparel, passed in 1574, tightly controlled the use of certain materials and dyes. Crimson, made from expensive imported cochineal insects found in the New World, was limited to the monarchy and a few high-ranking nobles. The laws specified not only colors but also the length of trains, types of embroidery, and even the number of buttons allowed per rank. Crimson wasn’t just banned from commoners—it was surgically assigned to the elite as visual proof of their divine right.

This control over color extended to the growing merchant class. Wealthy traders who wanted to display their success had to tread carefully: a flashy outfit in the wrong shade could provoke accusations of vanity or treason. Queen Elizabeth herself was deeply invested in these laws, seeing them as necessary to preserve social order and prevent the dilution of the noble image. Even within nobility, subtle variations in crimson could signify different court roles—like deep blood-red for senior officials and brighter scarlet for ceremonial wear.

Tailors were monitored closely. They could lose their licenses or face public whipping if caught making illegal garments. Households had to keep documentation proving that clothing conformed to sumptuary laws. Meanwhile, the color crimson gained a mythic status, appearing in official portraits and royal tapestries. It was used not just for clothing, but to dye the capes of state horses and the drapes in royal halls, making the entire visual field of the monarchy bleed with authority. Crimson became a color you could only wear if you embodied the state itself.^[3]

7 China’s Qing Dynasty: Yellow Was Off Limits

In Imperial China, yellow was the color of Heaven—and by extension, the emperor himself. During the Qing Dynasty (1644–1912), this symbolism was codified with aggressive precision. The imperial robe, known as the “Dragon Robe,” was dyed a particular golden-yellow tone and embroidered with five-clawed dragons. Even the thread used was reserved for the Forbidden City. Any person outside the royal family seen wearing this shade risked swift punishment. The empire’s legal code didn’t just ban yellow silk—it prohibited yellow roofs, yellow paper for common use, and yellow-wrapped gifts unless cleared by palace officials.

Palace guards were trained to identify and stop any civilians dressed in even vaguely imperial shades. During grand ceremonies, officials were instructed to wear darker, muted hues to not “challenge” the emperor’s visual dominance. Interestingly, yellow was also used in religious Taoist robes. Still, even here, priests had to secure imperial permission to wear the color—and only in spiritual contexts. Attempts to circumvent the rules by darkening the shade or mixing it with red or green were often met with suspicion and penalties.

The obsession with yellow reached architectural levels: only buildings used by the emperor could have yellow-glazed roof tiles. The Forbidden City’s gleaming roofs still display this golden yellow today. Elsewhere in China, palace-style tiles were purposefully colored blue, green, or black to avoid association. The color code wasn’t a fashion suggestion—it was a rigid political boundary. Even scrolls with imperial edicts were written on yellow silk or paper, signaling divine commandment before a single word was read. In Qing China, yellow was power incarnate.^[4]

6 Medieval France: Jews Ordered to Wear Yellow Badges

Long before the Nazis mandated the yellow Star of David, the roots of color-based religious discrimination were already planted in medieval Europe. In 1215, the Fourth Lateran Council decreed that Jews must wear distinguishing clothing to be identified at a glance. In France, this edict took the form of a yellow badge, often a circular patch or a yellow tab sewn into clothing. The color was not randomly chosen—yellow, in Christian symbology at the time, was associated with betrayal and heresy, most famously tied to Judas Iscariot. Its application was meant to degrade as much as identify.

The practice spread unevenly, enforced harshly in some regions and ignored in others, but in French cities like Paris and Rouen, the badge became a standard requirement. King Louis IX (later canonized as Saint Louis) reinforced the rule with fines for those who failed to comply. His piety was matched by his intolerance; he believed Jews should be visibly marked to discourage social mixing. These laws were so severe that even temporary visitors or Jewish converts under suspicion could be compelled to don the yellow patch.

Wearing the badge was not just humiliating—it was dangerous. In times of plague or public unrest, mobs used the yellow markers to target Jewish communities. It paved the way for forced ghettoization, property seizures, and pogroms centuries later. The yellow badge in France was one of the earliest systemic uses of color to marginalize a religious group, weaponizing visibility in the name of control. Its legacy is etched darkly into the timeline of European persecution.^[5]

5 Nazi Germany: Pink Triangles for Homosexual Men

While the Nazis’ most infamous symbol was the yellow star used to mark Jews, another lesser-known but equally cruel color code was reserved for gay men: the pink triangle. Within the labyrinth of Nazi concentration camps, an elaborate system of colored badges was used to identify prisoners by perceived “offense.” Homosexual men were forced to wear an inverted pink triangle stitched to their uniforms, setting them apart from criminals (green triangles), political dissidents (red), and Jews (yellow). The symbol became a magnet for violence, singling them out for particularly brutal treatment.

What’s chilling is how calculated the pink triangle was in its design. Nazis viewed homosexuality not only as moral corruption but as a threat to the racial purity of the Aryan nation. Himmler himself considered gay men enemies of the state and called for their eradication. Those marked with the pink triangle were often segregated, assigned to the harshest labor, and denied aid from other prisoner groups. In some camps, they were subject to “corrective rape,” chemical castration, or medical experiments. Even after surviving the camps, many were rearrested post-war under Paragraph 175, Germany’s anti-sodomy law.

Despite its horrific origins, the pink triangle has been reclaimed in recent decades as a symbol of LGBTQ+ resistance and remembrance. It appeared during the AIDS crisis in the 1980s with the ACT UP movement and remains a pointed emblem of how governments have used color to institutionalize hate. The triangle’s original intent wasn’t just to identify—it was to degrade, erase, and isolate. Its pink hue, so often seen today as soft or loving, was once the color of targeted cruelty.^[6]

4 18th-Century Japan: Merchants Forbidden Bright Colors

During Japan’s Edo period (1603–1868), society was strictly stratified into four primary classes: samurai, peasants, artisans, and merchants. Ironically, although merchants were placed at the bottom of the hierarchy, they often amassed considerable wealth through commerce and trade. This created a visual tension—wealthy merchants wanted to dress according to their riches, but doing so risked undermining the class-based order. In response, the Tokugawa shogunate introduced sumptuary laws that banned merchants from wearing lavish colors and fabrics, especially rich reds, golds, and purples that signified status.

Instead, merchants were restricted to wearing muted tones like brown, gray, and indigo, especially when appearing in public. The laws extended beyond dye restrictions; luxurious silks, metallic threads, and ornate embroidery were also off-limits. Enforcement varied regionally, but frequent inspections and public shaming kept most people in line. Tailors, like in Elizabethan England, were held responsible for the legality of garments they produced, and clients could be fined if found flaunting unauthorized flair. The policy wasn’t just about modesty—it was designed to visually reinforce social submission.

Yet this color control inspired a clever workaround. Merchants began expressing their wealth covertly: they lined their otherwise drab robes with exquisite silks in forbidden colors, only visible when sleeves flared or coats opened slightly in motion. In some cases, entire families passed down elaborate inner linings as heirlooms. This culture of hidden extravagance came to be known as iki—a sophisticated, understated aesthetic of rebellion within restraint. Japan’s ban on bright colors didn’t extinguish self-expression; it forced it underground.^[7]

3 South Africa’s Apartheid-Era School Uniform Bans

During South Africa’s apartheid regime (1948–1994), segregation wasn’t limited to public spaces, voting rights, or housing—it extended to clothing, especially in schools. School uniforms were deeply symbolic in apartheid South Africa. Elite white schools often had brightly colored, British-style blazers in blues, greens, or burgundies, while Black schools were forced to use dull, monochrome palettes. In some cases, education departments banned non-white schools from using specific colors if they were “too similar” to the uniforms of white institutions, a petty but effective way to visually enforce separation.

These restrictions created both logistical and psychological barriers. Uniform manufacturers serving Black schools were often limited to using cheaper dyes and lower-quality fabrics, leading to quickly fading grays and browns. Children noticed the difference, and it shaped their sense of identity from a young age. School colors became a badge of racial hierarchy, reinforcing the message that even ambition had a color ceiling. Efforts by some communities to raise funds for better uniforms or mimic prestigious color patterns were often blocked by educational authorities.

This form of control wasn’t arbitrary—it was a subtle weapon of apartheid, reinforcing the message that aspirations for equality were inappropriate or even illegal. Several apartheid-era documents reveal that government officials specifically discussed preventing “color confusion” in uniforms, believing that maintaining visual dominance in youth education was key to preserving white supremacy. Even today, debates continue in South Africa about how school uniforms carry the lingering legacy of these color-coded divisions.^[8]

2 Soviet Union: Western Colors and Neon Were Suppressed

Under the iron grip of the Soviet Union, the state didn’t just regulate speech or travel—it regulated aesthetics. From the Stalinist era through the late 1980s, bright colors, especially neon shades and Western-style fashion, were strongly discouraged and often suppressed. Soviet ideology framed Western consumerism as decadent, shallow, and corrosive to the proletarian spirit. This belief seeped into fashion mandates. Bright pinks, lime greens, vivid oranges—these were seen as frivolous expressions of individuality at odds with the collective ideal.

The Soviet government never issued a comprehensive ban on specific colors, but censorship was enforced through a powerful combination of social pressure, party propaganda, and practical limitation. The state-owned clothing factories simply didn’t produce garments in forbidden hues, while magazines and media promoted drab, utilitarian styles. Imported fashion was tightly controlled, and those caught smuggling in Western clothes or dyeing their garments bright colors could face job termination, expulsion from university, or interrogation. In some cases, KGB surveillance extended to tailors or artists who embraced “foreign styles.”

Despite these controls, underground fashion scenes persisted in cities like Moscow and Leningrad. Rebellious youth known as Stilyagi—literally “style hunters”—became infamous in the 1950s and ’60s for wearing loud, clashing outfits and neon ties in defiance of the drab socialist dress code. The authorities cracked down hard. Stilyagi were often arrested, had their heads shaved in public, or were forced to attend “re-education” sessions. But the fight over color wasn’t really about fabric—it was about freedom. And the state knew it.^[9]

1 Modern Saudi Arabia: Bans on Red During Valentine’s Day

For years, the Saudi Arabian government cracked down on Valentine’s Day with intensity typically reserved for political protests. From the early 2000s until the late 2010s, the country’s religious police—the Hay’a—targeted anything red during the days leading up to February 14. Red roses were removed from flower shops, heart-shaped chocolates were hidden from display cases, and even red clothing was confiscated or quietly tucked away. The goal was to prevent citizens from observing a holiday seen as un-Islamic, Western, and dangerously romantic.

Shop owners devised creative ways to skirt the rules. Some hid red merchandise in back rooms and sold it to trusted customers only if they whispered the request. Others hoarded flowers before the ban began or used code words like “special celebration” to reference Valentine’s gifts. In some instances, schools conducted bag searches to prevent students from exchanging red items or love notes. The ban wasn’t formalized into national law, but the threat of fines, arrests, and business closures kept most people in line.

The color red itself became a kind of contraband, weaponized by association. A red dress worn too close to Valentine’s Day might draw questioning or worse. For years, the observance of the holiday existed in secret, through coded language and private parties. Only in recent years—amid Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s reforms—has this ban been relaxed, with some shops now openly selling roses and heart balloons. But the legacy of the red ban lingers, a reminder of how far a government can go to control behavior and symbolism.^[10]