"It was undeniable glamor, the kind that I associate with girls who don’t brush their hair but always wear lipstick."
Miu Miu SS25 was a conservative provocation that stirred guests and viewers to question the truth behind women’s wardrobes and the media as a whole. It’s what so many shows this season have attempted to do: try to connect their luxury products to larger issues so that attendees and consumers can feel like they’re buying into something bigger than themselves. In recent years, Miu Miu itself has become that bigger thing. So many luxury brands try to create their viral moments on the runway to arouse conversation and excitement, but Miu Miu doesn’t need gimmicks to provoke desire. The garments, styling, and casting are enough. Their micro mini skirts, buckle boots, and creative layering on the runway have spawned countless online video trends and fast fashion dupes — while that might sound counterintuitive to real-life profit, the brand’s retail sales increased 93% in the first half of 2024. Miu Miu cannot miss.
The SS25 show was set in an art installation titled “Salt Looks Like Sugar” by Polish artist Goshka Macuga. Guests received a printed newspaper named The Truthless Times, covered in QR codes and headlines where fashion and fact intertwined. These newspapers revolved on the ceiling in a production line, creating printed movement above the catwalk. “A constellation of elements deciphering the concept of truth and its representation… guiding the viewer along various paths toward understanding the human experience of reality in today’s world where the truth has to be found by individual investigation rather than available in commonly distributed sources,” read the show notes. Though I try not to compare Prada to Miu Miu despite their sisterhood, both shows in Milan and Paris took a whack at criticizing the media and its ever-present algorithm, and, too, how much our perception of art and fashion is influenced by conglomerates rather than individuals. Some of these messages successfully trickled down the venue into the collection, but not without some Miu Miu cuteness.
What felt like an ironic opening to the show after reading so much promotion of the raw human experience, 16-year-old Sunday Rose Kidman-Urban wore the first look. The daughter of Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban had an endearing Bambi strut, wearing a barely sheer cotton shift dress with eyelet trims and cutouts at the waist. Knee-high leg warmers were layered under peep-toe leather stilettos that tied in a bow around her heel. As she walked further, the back of her dress was revealed to be left unbuttoned, showing a swimsuit underneath in blue with white piping. Why wasn’t her dress closed all the way? Why did she wear heels with a swimsuit? Recurring Miu Miu stylist Lotta Volkova prompts modest perversion with her vision that repeats as seasons progress.
What followed this initial look was maximalism — collages of textures, techniques, and hardware. Ginghams, patents, neoprenes, cottons, suedes, leathers. Athletic but nowhere near athleisure. One-pieces and bikinis were combined with pleated leather skirts and chiffon mini dresses. These dresses were ruffled yet compressed, like they had been slept in, then hastily half-buttoned after the wearer slept through her alarm. It was undeniable glamor, the kind that I associate with girls who don’t brush their hair but always wear lipstick. These girls mix metals. Silver and gold antique belts with metallic florets were slung over classic leather ones (some buckled in the back). Even cuter were smaller belts on the upper arms that kept sweaters scrunched at T-shirt length. Panty lines were visible under colorful tights that stretched down into the shoes: thonged Mary Janes, pumps, flip-flop kitten heels, clogs, sneakers, boat shoes, and penny loafers.
The bags and purses were sweetly predictable. Soft rectangle leathers thrown over shoulders and held in the crooks of models’ arms in soft shades of olives, browns, and a few navies with recurring white contrast piping. The quilted Napa leather hobo bags appeared in a larger size, which was softly slung over shoulders. They were a much better adaptation of the quilted code which I’ve found to be rigid and stale when adapted into smaller bag silhouettes.
The moments that spurred the most joy for me were the return of geometric prints and leather eye motifs, first seen on the Spring/Summer 2005 runway, now in the form of trench coats and skirts. Miuccia Prada is only inspired by herself, as she should be. The mantra “ugly chic” was initially Prada’s modus operandi but it’s been affectionately modernized to be a relieving exhale, a return to something that is not for everyone.
Accessories and styling made the collection sparkle: oversized 1980s sunglasses in pinks, purples, oranges, reds, and beiges. Leg warmers and socks. Sweaters tied around torsos like soft tactile corsets. Multiple layers of shirt collars folded over onto themselves. Hair was tousled and hastily bobby pinned. Models’ cupid bows were dusted in metallic pigment and their fingernails were meticulously manicured with chipped pink polish.
Cara Delevingne, Alexa Chung, and Hilary Swank walked the runway, and who else could close it other than Willem Dafoe, who previously strutted for Prada in 2011. Although I’m not sure the intention behind the casting choices was other than a display of the brand’s “look what we can do” attitude, the audience loved it, and perhaps that was the only goal.
Miu Miu girls are aspirationally messy. They are tomboys and tomgirls who don’t care about being seen, only witnessed. When so many stunts are presented during each Fashion Week of the season, this little sister label continues to tune out the noise and build on their strong foundation of identity and provocation. They don’t rely on handbags and sunglasses to sell their fantasy because their formula of unconventional femininity just keeps working — and we keep buying it. Sometimes all an audience needs to make their heart pound is a cheeky bikini line peeking out from beneath an unbuttoned slip. 🌀 8.4
Jane Lewis is HALOSCOPE's Runway Editor based in New York City. She grew up on farms in Southern California but now she always matches her shoes to her bag.