Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
Entering Paris' Palais d'Iena, the permanent site of Miu Miu's seasonal fashion shows, felt like stepping into a soaring cathedral. The space's original fluted stone columns were a backdrop for dramatically winged arches crafted not from marble or fancy rock but from raw plywood. It was quickly apparent that stepping into 'Our Lady of Miu Miu' was not going to be an orthodox fashion experience. Part of Miuccia Prada's look seemed cut right from the cloth of 1960s classicism: there were oversized sturdy wool coats, prim pencil skirts and pin heeled stiletto mules covered with giant bows. But the girls were frump-ified with plastered greasy hair that spoke to weeks of beauty regime neglect, while their eyebrows had been erased and then redrawn with harsh thin lines that aged their faces by a decade. As for the clothes, those too got a twist. Vintage and retro fabrics were pulled out and cut up into new patchworks, while saucy renditions of the crop top and halter top done up in the frills of a men's tuxedo shirt left almost every model's belly as bare as a newborn. That, of course, would never go down between the pews of a respectable religious establishment, but we know plenty of women who will happily genuflect to this look come next spring.
Photography: Jason Lloyd-Evans
