Last month, Miu Miu's new campaign came out, starring Kylie Jenner with a blank-eyed, lobotomy-chic stare. It's fair to say, most fashion fans were unimpressed. “Kylie just isn't a Miu Miu girl!” “The Kardashians again, seriously?” It reminded me of the uproar around her and Timothee Chalamet’s relationship. How could he, an indie darling, date a KarJenner, the epitome of influencer marketing?
Miu Miu’s identity as a brand has always been quirky and cerebral. Designer Miuccia Prada started the label as Prada’s diffusion line (a secondary label which is generally more affordable with a younger audience) in 1992. It contrasted with the sleekness of Prada, giving the designer an avenue to play with notions of femininity and taste. It is the brand, after all, that launched “ugly chic” in the mid-90s with collections featuring hideous prints and drab colours.
Back then, Miu Miu campaigns featured cool girls – young women known for their fashion sense, indie films, or copious partying – like Chloe Sevigny and Drew Barrymore. More often, they wouldn’t cast celebrities at all. In the decades since, the brand has increased its celebrity collaborations – much like the rest of the industry. But, still, Miu Miu didn’t feel quite so commercial. That’s why the casting of one of the most ubiquitous celebrities of our generation felt off-brand.
But over recent years, Miu Miu has been everywhere. Miu Miu sets have been papped on every fashion girl ad nauseum, both in editorials and in paparazzi pics. The brand consistently tops industry lists of the hottest labels: The Lyst Index for 2025’s second quarter just came out, and, no surprise, Miu Miu was number 1. (The Index is a quarterly ranking of the most popular luxury brands by shopping platform Lyst.) It’s hardly a cult-favourite anymore, having become one of the favourite brands of Gen Z. Considering all this, it's not that crazy that Miu Miu chose Kylie to star in a campaign.
How did Miu Miu go from Prada's cool, weird, younger sister to being absolutely everywhere? Spring/Summer 2022 felt like the turning point. The show was a viral hit and presented a collection of sexy office-wear, including tiny skirts and chopped sweaters. The skimpy sets went on to invade fashion, appearing everywhere from the posts of influencers like Chiara Ferragni to the cover of I-D.
It's hard to pin down why exactly it went so viral. Perhaps it was Lotta Volkova’s unique flavour of Gen Z styling. (She had started working with the house the season prior, and was a big part of the success of Demna’s Balenciaga, another notoriously viral brand.) Maybe it was Miuccia’s ability to tap into the cultural zeitgeist. (Office core would become a trend not long after this show. Miu Miu’s ballet flats and bag charms were also influential in igniting these respective trends.) Or, it's possible that it simply came at the right moment, coinciding with a time when a younger generation of fashion fans was discovering and worshipping old Miu Miu collections online.
Whatever the reason, since then, it feels as if Miu Miu has been inescapable. The brand is no stranger to red carpets and famous ambassadors, but it feels like there are more celebrity placements than ever. The brand is particularly targeting Gen Z, with ambassadors like Sydney Sweeney, Emma Corrin, Little Simz, Doechii, Gigi Hadid and Ethel Cain. And it’s working - 2024 was reportedly a “record year” for Miu Miu sales.
It has also followed the general fashion trend of cosying up to the Asian market by collaborating with K-pop stars Minnie and Wonyoung, with millions of followers each. Not to mention, the label started Miu Miu Select in 2019, capsule collections of Miu Miu garments picked out by a different celebrity each season: a blatant use of the power of celebrity to make more sales.
As a Miu Miu fan, I selfishly want the brand to be special, like an old rocker who hates that his favourite artist has been embraced by teenage girls. Especially because that label was positioned as a rebellious force in fashion: challenging good taste and conventional beauty. As a brand that was never for the male gaze, it feels strange that these sexy sets are what put it on the map. And, for a designer like Mrs Prada, known for her intellect and a membership with the Italian Communist Party as a young woman, the obvious commercialism is quite off-brand.
Using celebrities to drive sales is hardly specific to one brand, though: it's basically become fashion's business model. So, I can't solely be mad at Miu Miu for selling out or going mainstream. I must also lament the internet's tendency to take something niche, fetishise it, and repost it over and over again until it’s annoyingly ingrained in our cultural consciousness. Think: the Margiela Tabi, a hoof-like shoe which has popped up in memes, fit pics, and was even duped by Fashion Nova. Being annoyed at anyone who jumped on a trend after you is part of the petty human condition.
Perhaps Miu Miu execs noticed this growing appetite for the label online in the late 2010s: the way that it had gained a young generation of disciples on Twitter and was constantly reposted on Tumblr. Dare I say, it had become trendier than Prada. Could the mainstreaming of Miu Miu be Prada Group's way of consolidating the brand and ensuring its success before the 76-year-old designer retires? (There have been whispers about this ever since designer Raf Simons joined as co-creative director of Prada in 2020 and Miuccia stepped down as co-CEO of Prada Group in 2022.) Without her, there's no guarantee that the brand would retain its cult following.
In the age of globalised, conglomerated fashion, none of this comes as much of a surprise. It's not really about the designer's vision; it's about sales. And it's not enough to simply make a profit: brands must top their growth year on year. In this context, it makes sense to capitalise on Miu Miu's surge in popularity. It's just not really something I expected from the ever-thoughtful Mrs Prada.
