From June 27 to 29, Miu Miu quietly rewrote the rhythm of the urban summer across five cities: Paris, Milan, Osaka, Beijing, and Tokyo. In each location, pastel-colored kiosks bloomed like mirages — pale green, cloud blue, soft yellow — tucked inside public parks and city squares. There was no signage screaming for attention. Instead, there were folding chairs, silk bookmarks, and novels wrapped in fabric. Not giveaways — offerings.
Each title was handpicked, forming an unspoken thread of female interiority, resistance, and tenderness. Simone de Beauvoir’s The Inseparables, Agustina Bessa-Luís’ The Sibyl, Fumiko Enchi’s The Waiting Years, Marguerite Duras’ La Vie tranquille — none of these books are loud. They don’t beg to be read. They sit patiently and let you arrive when you’re ready. The same could be said for Miu Miu’s ongoing cultural orbit: confident in its subtleties, intimate in its gestures.
Wrapped in signature Miu Miu linen and tied with ribbons, each book came with an ex-libris card for its new owner to sign. A tiny act of belonging. A reminder that this is yours now. The project, curated by the brand’s cultural arm and designed in collaboration with M/M (Paris), wasn’t a traditional campaign — it was more of a communion. Literature as a wearable trace. Fashion as a pause, not a provocation.
The experience itself felt like something between a memory and a dream. No selfies, no performances, just quiet communion: strangers choosing stories, sitting under trees, eyes scanning sentences instead of screens. Volunteers moved through the space like librarians of an outdoor world, offering iced tea and novels instead of perfume samples or business cards.
In a season of fashion where silence is often mistaken for absence, Miu Miu Summer Reads proposed another kind of presence — one where attention isn’t grabbed, but given freely. And that’s the point. It’s not about spectacle. It’s about suggestion. A gesture soft enough to live in the margins, yet powerful enough to linger.
For Miu Miu, summer 2025 isn’t about heat. It’s about quiet. It’s about claiming time — and returning it, dressed in lace bookmarks and linen-wrapped novels.
Because maybe the future of fashion isn’t a louder runway. Maybe it’s a folding chair, under a tree, waiting for you to sit down and listen.
Miuccia Prada, long a believer that dressing oneself is an intellectual act, reminds us that reading is too. And so, in a park somewhere — maybe in Milan, maybe in Osaka — someone sits down. Opens a book. And begins to read.
Maybe for fashion.
Maybe by chance.
But still — they’re reading.
And that, in 2025, is nothing short of revolutionary.