So it happened. Kylie Jenner—contour queen, human algorithm, and matriarch of a billion-dollar beauty empire—has made her debut in a Miu Miu campaign. Yes, that Miu Miu. The brand you feel more than you wear. The one that flirts with naughty schoolgirl aesthetics but never goes full cosplay. The one that made awkward sexy and turned intellectual boredom into a fashion statement.
For Fall/Winter 2025, Miu Miu declares:
“The focus is on the power of the portrait and a wardrobe that is as elegant as it is enriching, as respectful of the language of fashion as it is of the body within.” Which, translated from Fashion to Human, means: We want to look smart while selling you expensive clothes that whisper, not shout.
“The focus is on the power of the portrait and a wardrobe that is as elegant as it is enriching, as respectful of the language of fashion as it is of the body within.” Which, translated from Fashion to Human, means: We want to look smart while selling you expensive clothes that whisper, not shout.
It’s all there—the hazy lighting, the undone hair, the perfectly imperfect layering. All the codes that say “I’m interesting, but not trying too hard.” And then—there’s Kylie.
Cue the comment section: “She’s not Miu Miu.”
And honestly? They have a point. Because Kylie, as we know her, is the antithesis of the mythical Miu Miu girl. The Miu Miu girl was never a household name. She was an art-school dropout with a penchant for vintage slips and philosophy zines. She had opinions about obscure French films and probably smoked clove cigarettes. She was chaos in a Peter Pan collar.
And honestly? They have a point. Because Kylie, as we know her, is the antithesis of the mythical Miu Miu girl. The Miu Miu girl was never a household name. She was an art-school dropout with a penchant for vintage slips and philosophy zines. She had opinions about obscure French films and probably smoked clove cigarettes. She was chaos in a Peter Pan collar.
Kylie, on the other hand, is polished. Curated. Capitalized. Her body is an enterprise. Her face is global branding. She doesn’t just do fashion; she is a product of fashion’s industrial complex. Which is exactly why her presence in this campaign feels like either a betrayal or a genius-level move.
Miu Miu, after all, has always thrived on contradiction. It’s Prada’s rebellious younger sister, the one who borrows your cashmere sweater and wears it with scuffed ballet flats and visible underwear. It’s girlhood as performance, but one that never admits it’s performing.
So what does it mean when Kylie enters this space? Is it the death of the Miu Miu girl as we knew her—or the evolution of her? Because in 2025, maybe the girl who once quoted Barthes on her Tumblr now has a business plan and a publicist. Maybe she traded in her angst for access. Maybe, terrifyingly enough, she is Kylie.
This campaign doesn’t ask us to believe Kylie is Miu Miu. It dares us to question whether “Miu Miu” means what it used to. In a world where every aesthetic can be purchased, filtered, and resold, maybe the final act of rebellion is embracing the commercial in full view.
So no, Kylie might not be the Miu Miu girl of the past. But she just might be the Miu Miu girl we deserve. Or at the very least, the one we can’t stop looking at.
Photos courtesy of Miu Miu
No comments:
Post a Comment