I arrived in Milan bright-eyed and bushy tailed from London Fashion Week, where I enjoyed the freak show (complimentary) of young designers and fresh ideas that keeps me inspired. Milan Fashion Week gets a bad rap of being commercial and overly formal—it is a city dominated almost entirely by heritage brands well over 50, even 100, years old. Could I, a bluehaired weirdo, actually have fun in a town of stiletto’ed-at-lunchtime bombas and tortoiseshell-clipped sciure?
It helps to be jolted awake by Prada. The 7 a.m. flight from Heathrow into Linate was a proper fashion bus, and we all rustled to change into our “quick drag” (as José at Vanity Fair called it) to be Prada-appropriate. I’ll admit I was worried. The menswear show presented in June, often as a counterpart to this September womenswear show, was all pants. PANTS?! I am vehemently anti-pant, and while I admire the perfect 5-pocket on a rocker lad, it will simply never be for me. Thankfully, Mrs. Prada is for the girls, instead presenting 63 unique iterations of the skirt.
Sound the klaxon: SIXTY-THREE NEW PRADA SKIRTS!!!
Was it a statement on obsession and appropriateness? Commentary on the Prada hoarders—and those who’ve recently given up that life? (Shoutout, Emilia!) Maybe it was just love, that in her skirt, Mrs. P is most herself. I can relate. In the kinky nylon Velcro pencils tightened over florals, I found sex. In the organza-covered silk midis with flattened bows, I found sweetness. In a bejeweled metal number, there was joy, and in leather skirt suits with mini pleated numbers, there was punk. My favorite is a red silk number, just to the knee, pleated upward around the body with a cascade of ruffles dripping down the front.
After the show, I had a gelato with i-D bestie John Glacier who summarized the Prada secret perfectly: “Be you. Be bold. Admit you are already beautiful.”
So I’m on a Prada high and need to keep the good vibes going… what does one do? SHOP. If all you care about is consumer power, scroll to the bottom for my vintage store recs.
But before that, I’d like to talk about Gucci. The #StoreShow was held in a gigantic fake Gucci store somewhere out west of Milan, a perfect Synecdoche, New York kind of headtrip into a surreal other world. I don’t think anyone was studying the implications of a fake store, of a fake universe, of the fake clients who perused the very real sunglasses and jewelry. Everyone was looking at Sena Mendes, Cardi B, and Jannik Sinner in the FROW or Tina Leung, Jill Demling, and Candace Swanepoel (wow) on the runway. What I enjoyed most about this Gucci show was the earnestness about being a little tacky. That’s a lie, actually. What I loved were the plaid skirts with layered shirts and bombers worn with white tights. (Me?!) But the overall atmosphere of pseudo-sophistication, of playing with glamour and wealth, of teasing appropriateness, of pushing it to a fabulous limit, felt really right for Gucci and really right for Demna, who’s always liked to toe the line of taste. The collection, twisting from prep to South Beach ooh-la-laaaaaa, felt like a new direction for him, less tied to the street and more tied to the private jet lounge at Teterboro Airport.
The other show that gave me an electrifying jolt was Jil Sander. Minimalism?! No, I know it sounds crazy, but Simone Bellotti is hitting his stride at the chicly understated brand. Aside from the fold-over bags in superhero colors, I loved the small ways he infuses levity into the clothes. Maybe it’s a colored tight. A “baroque” gold button, as he called them during our coffee meeting, or a “messed-up” mountain print in neons to surprise shoppers (and the audience). Ballooning cape dresses in lemon and rose got gasps at the show, but the real standout is a pale pink crushed silk dress with a sheer overlay that flutters around the neck. Simone told me he’s already gotten many requests for it as a wedding dress.
Before the wedding, there’s the romance, of which there was much at Diesel. La Horde choreographed an audience of writhers, kissers, and people just putting their tongues in each other’s mouths. It was hot? But weird? But funny? Sort of a perfect summation of Glenn Martens’ brilliant tenure at Diesel, where he made the hottest, weirdest, most fun clothes in Milan. I loved seeing Ella Snyder, the first-ever model to walk one of Glenn’s Diesel shows, close the show in her red hair.
Elsewhere around Milan, there was a fabulous, quirked-up Marni show that really took up the dorky-chic mantle once upheld by Prada, with sock-boots and layered jersey capris under nylon midi-skirts. The room was vibrating with excitement and the shoppies. Meryll Rogge has found a way to stimulate our minds and our wallets, which I do think is a uniquely feminine skill. Meryll, I’ll be seeing you at the salon and at the check-out counter.
Moschino turned brilliant, thanks to new designers Simone Rizzo and Loris Messina, who had the genius idea to cast their models against the Milanese sky and hundreds of people in their everyday clothes. The Moschino cast went one way, the crowd went the other. A nice display for breaking the mold, and for the colorful, boxy separates Simone and Loris presented.
Ferragamo left propriety behind and offered steamy—in every sense—sex appeal with latex dresses and broad, 1940s-inspired tailoring. I enjoyed the structured coats most, and the draped tailoring worn by forever Ferragamo model and personal bestie Zainab Jama.
I left Milan on an absolute high at Bottega Veneta. I sat beside i-D cover hero and legend Goldie, who chatted me up for 20 minutes before the show and a couple of times during to point out different jungle songs on the soundtrack. HEAVEN. But the clothes, too, were a heavenly diversion from the more cerebral and structured look Louise Trotter has been advocating for at BV for a couple seasons. The spilling-apart crocheted tops were favorites, as was the sorbetto trio on Mariacarla Boscono. Bottega Veneta was the only show in Milan to really evoke those happy summertime vibes—sitting at the seaside, three spritzes deep, reading the newspaper, and wondering what the future might hold. Maybe that’s where Kendall Jenner (who closed the show) and Jacob Elordi (her BF in the FROW) will be wearing their Bottega next…..
Now the SHOPPING, I PROMISED YOU.
Madame Pauline Vintage: Recommended by my style north stars Brooke Bobb and Nick Tran, this store is a well-curated selection of vintage Versace, JPG, and Chanel, with prices to match. I went with Miyako Bellizzi, the world’s greatest stylist, and she got a great no-label emerald taffeta overskirt that was giving 1980s corporate Christmas Party.
Cavalli e Nastri: A Milanese mainstay, the multiple Cavalli e Nastri locations mix the high (a Yves Saint Laurent taffeta white gown) with the random (anonymous knit halters and acrylic floral earrings) for a delightful shopping experience. After hitting the women’s store with Miyako, Sam Hine and Noah Johnson joined us to hit the men’s, where Noah had got a Gianfranco Ferré bomber earlier in the week.
Pezze: Kind of an It Spot, Pezze has a small selection of Y2K vintage and ephemera, like flip phones. I tried on a perfect pair of bottle-green Bulgari sunglasses that I regret not buying. If you’re reading this, Pezze owner, pls DM me.
Bivio: There’s Prada bags and random charity-shop items at Bivio, making it a fun hunt. I almost left with said Prada, but I did watch Miyako leave with a vintage Eddie Bauer “Floatation Suit.” You can imagine the silhouette.
Via Lambrate: A bit outside the city, this store is the more chill sister of Madame Pauline. Brooke Bobb and Chloe King hit it up and left me drooling over endless pictures of vintage Prada and Dries Van Noten.
Sous Vintage: My forever favorite in the south of Milan, Sous has an eclectic mix of Tom Ford-era Gucci and the best army jackets and shearlings in the city. I love the vibe in there and was depressed that I missed out on visiting this trip.
It’s not for sale, but I had the time of my life: The Prada Galleria exhibition space of vintage Prada pieces from 1913 to today: The expansive show proves Mrs. P is a genius not just of fashion, but of communication. The displays ranged from her 2009 gold metal dress to the newly designed NASA space suits, from ’90s Prada Beauty packaging to the Prada LG phone from the 2000s. I was so high on Prada that, yes, I did shop at the Galleria store after, where I ran into another inspired shopper Becky, buying the most amazing Fall 2026 pieces.
