This season at Miu Miu (Instagram), femininity wasn’t reclaimed—it was exposed, undone, and pinned back together with a vintage brooch. Miu Miu Fall 2025, which looked at first glance like a parade of charming retro references—bouffant hairdos, fur stoles, satin slips, and those unforgettable bullet bras—revealed itself as something far more poignant: a study in emotional armour dressed up as play.
In the midst of a fashion month defined by restraint—economically, emotionally, aesthetically—Miuccia Prada chose distortion over discipline. Set against citron moiré walls and accompanied by off-kilter “elevator music,” her FW25 collection explored the absurdity of performance: of womanhood, of nostalgia, of dressing up when the world feels like it’s coming undone.
There was a beautiful awkwardness to everything. Hair looked hastily pinned as if the model ran out of bobby pins halfway through. Quarter-zips were asymmetrical, sundresses fell off one shoulder, and structured coats had just enough curve to feel unsettling. The collection’s silhouettes evoked the ‘50s and ‘80s by way of the Gen Z wardrobe—borrowed, mismatched, proudly imperfect. And while it played with tropes, it never mocked them. Prada knows the difference between irony and affection.
The casting reflected that same duality. Gigi Hadid and Sarah Paulson shared the runway with Eliot Sumner, Xiao Wen Ju, and Sunday Rose Kidman Urban, forming a deliberately intergenerational—and gender-expansive—cast that felt less like a catwalk and more like an ensemble cast from a Wes Anderson-adjacent period film.
But beneath the charm, there was tension. The bullet bras—worn over or under polo knits, lurex sweaters, and satin slips—suggested both vintage glamour and the quiet violence of being looked at. The collection’s beauty felt fragile by design: lipstick smudged at the corner, a fur coat slipping off one shoulder, a too-tight sweater over a too-young skirt. These weren’t outfits; they were characters. Versions of femininity held together with a knowing wink and a pair of kitten heels.
There were also the classics: prim skirt suits, aged leather jackets, high socks in mismatched colours, cloche hats, and crystal-studded accessories that walked the line between gaudy and chic. Colour blocked in Prada’s signature “ugly-pretty” palette—mustard, apricot, ultraviolet, acid green—the whole show felt like a memory scrambled through time.
Miu Miu has long been the rebellious little sister of the Prada household, but this season she felt more like the wise one—offering a vision of femininity that’s complicated, contradictory, and completely contemporary. It wasn’t about looking polished; it was about looking like you’ve lived.
As fashion continues to debate relevance, utility, and cost, Miuccia Prada reminds us that vulnerability can be a form of resistance—and that style, at its best, doesn’t resolve the tension. It wears it.
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