The Miu Miu girl looked as though she’d found one of her hipster dad’s suits from that period—the jacket too big, the pants just a tad too short, the ruffle on the shirt stiffened over time, his cavalier-buckled shoes just a bit too clumpy.
The palette was classic Miuccia—bilious mustard, Air Force blue, magenta—mixed up in an oddly seductive package. Those chic, hippie-era tones were also used for brocaded woolens woven with sinuous Art Nouveau flowers.
If you must have a skirt, Miuccia hides it under an overscale jacket the same length or fractionally longer, so that for all intents and purposes it looks as though you just shrugged on the jacket (often with a dear little built-in Sherlock Holmes cape) over a pair of fabulous legs.
Miuccia also proposed tunic and pant ensembles, in the old-fashioned spongy wool jerseys she loves, and bedazzled some suede tunics with reflective sequin discs the size of hand mirrors to frame her girls’ turquoise-shadowed eyes.
“We swapped roles!” said Marc Jacobs, congratulating Miuccia backstage. There was some gender play going on; Jacobs revealing his shapely calves in a trim black skirt and pilgrim-buckled shoes, and Miuccia in lean-cut black Persian lamb pants—a startling change from her habitual ironic-bourgeois skirts. “I used to wear (pants) many times, early on,” said Miuccia, who confessed that now, “I can’t wear anything else,” and, looking as chic as she did, proved the most persuasive model for her new look.
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