Miley Cyrus stands at the edge of disappearance—bleached in white paint, draped in Margiela’s ghostly codes, caught by Paolo Roversi’s lens in a haze that feels both eternal and fleeting. For the house’s Autumn-Winter 2025 Avant-Première, Margiela turns time itself into a textile, letting its wrinkles, fades, and scars become the season’s true embellishment.

Clothes are never static. They crease, they fade, they bear the pressure of bodies, the heat of irons, the marks of repair. They become diaries—stitched, patched, pressed, and passed on. What Roversi captures is not Cyrus styled in a collection, but her absorbed into Margiela’s world of perpetual transformation: one where a coat’s lining might become its surface, where shoes warp into sculpture, where even the nude body is treated as a canvas, reduced and remade through the house’s bianchetto veil.

The collection revels in contradiction: deconstructing tailoring against second-skin bodies, silk dresses that appear sun-faded yet freshly alive, reversible coats that switch from country practicality to urban formality. Stitching, patching, shrinking, boiling—every treatment celebrates garments as living objects, softened by memory and repair. The Margiela paradox is quite simple: nothing is pristine, everything is alive.

Margiela’s iconography is here in new guises. The 5AC bag appears stripped of lining, waxed so that time itself will write upon it. Shoes are sculpted like relics—derbies with warped fronts, pumps bent into shape as if broken in long before arrival. Even sneakers are distressed with individual corrosion, turning each pair into a one-off archive.

“I stood naked, painted white, wearing only Tabi boots,” Cyrus says. “In that moment, Margiela and I became one.”

It’s this alchemy—between body and fabric, between artist and Maison—that defines the campaign. Margiela doesn’t just dress people. It dresses memory, the lived-in, the carried-over. In Miley’s stillness, the clothes speak of movement, of the endless cycle of wearing, aging, remaking. Time, worn like a garment, becomes the truest luxury.