Miu Miu

After a typical day at the garage, a young mechanic swaps her stained overalls for a leather ensemble—as she shifts gears into a different kind of routine. Driving through bustling Paris, she helps a passerby cross the street, delivers plants to a hardware store, and picks up an enigmatic passenger.

It’s California, during the Great Depression. A woman is confiding her most intimate thoughts in a church confessional, while the man on the other side listens silently and intently. But this is no ordinary religious ritual seeking salvation. The woman — a second generation Filipino farmhand — is rapt in roleplay reverie, her sensuous words aimed at her white American lover, during a historic period when such interracial relationships were forbidden by state law. The confession box transforms into a romantic time machine, ecstatic and melancholic, traveling into alternate futures. She manifests as multiple, dazzling women, and they can love freely. This is the 21st commission from Miu Miu Women's Tales​ series.

The Door, by Ava DuVernay, is a celebration of the transformative power of feminine bonds, and a symbolic story of life change.

The film examines girlhood as inherited performance-costumes worn before identity forms. Mona frames femininity as simultaneous nurture and constraint, exploring how intimacy between girls and garments becomes predetermined theatre. Clothing functions as ritual and control, dictating movement before self-knowledge arrives.

Directed by Argentinean Lucrecia Martel, MUTA, meaning both “mute” and “transformation”, is a beautiful and cryptic portrayal of an all female world of symbolism, hidden meaning and intrigue.

Have you ever found it impossible to say something, face to face, to someone you know, someone you love? The words just won’t come out? New messaging service, Somebody, could help.

An insight into the creative process of photographer Brigitte Lacombe, exploring her obsession with taking pictures and how her lens defines her relationship with her subjects and the world.

It’s quintessentially late afternoon Californian sun. The eponymous house gently hosts a number of clipped social encounters. Each of these denotes dynamics of power in race, gender and class. While it’s the macaw that seems ostensibly and literally caged, Bravo’s drama of manners suggests that every single one of us may not be quite as uncaged as we assume.

“Miss Jasmine! I have a package for you!” The 14-year-old girl with braces takes a break from milking the goat. Her local postman has delivered a surprise. She opens it up. Out floats a magical magenta ball dress ten times her teenage size. “I am curious,” she says, and enters the folds of the dress. From here, Jasmine⎯headstrong, a dreamer, a realist⎯takes us on a modern anti-fairy tale through caves and stalagmites, streets and shop windows, obsessions and everyday empowerment.

“Farah,” a bread seller, walks the streets of a Middle Eastern town, while an American military vehicle, surrounded by soldiers, slowly passes by. A moment’s silence. Then, a devastating explosion. Civilians are bloodied, wounded. The horrors of war. “Farah” looks around aghast and wailing. But nothing here is quite what it seems. In fact, “Farah” is a character played by an aspiring actress called Laila. And this isn’t Iraq, but a replica village erected on the Fort Irwin army base in California, used to train American troops before being sent abroad. Laila believes her acting talents are being wasted away in this arid simulation, where female role-players are limited to mute, background roles. She takes things much more seriously. Laila plots her way out.

Across time, a Black woman seeks to piece together the fragments of Black female figures and, guided by Black Venus, attempts to regain control of their narrative.

Naomi Kawase describes Sakura Ando, the lead character in her film, as "a mysterious creature" who is "like a fairy. SEED is the story of the journey this girl takes from the enchanted nature of Nara to the chaos of Tokyo, and the encounters she has along the way. A boy offers her the gift of an apple, which she in turn gives to a homeless man, who proffers a soft piece of chiffon fabric in return. Moving like a tree that sways in the wind, the girl embodies a spirit that secretly runs through places and living things. The eleventh film commissioned by Miu Miu Women's Tales was directed by the multiple Cannes award-winning Japanese director Naomi Kawase.

Miu Miu Women's Tales #12 - Short film directed by Crystal Moselle starring The Skate Kitchen crew

The ninth short film of the Miu Miu’s Women’s Tales series reflects Alice Rohrwacher’s attention to the surreal world of ordinariness and exceptions.

Nothing went as planned: what seemed to be an original idea (taking an international fashion event to a small town in the Argentine Pampas) ended up as a mysterious affair, with a mannequin who seems to have vanished, and who insists on leaving small clues scattered across the immense plains. But nothing seems to be too strange for Commissioner Sirota and her particular method which, this time, includes a clairvoyant, a legendary detective arriving from Santa Rosa and some picturesque “peritas” who choose to work at night, swinging to the rhythm of Ska. In the middle, a disturbing question: Is it a police case they are dealing with, or is someone taking them (the police, the whole town, the Italians – all of us, perhaps) for a fool?

On the day of an inauguration to head the family business Stane confronts marriage, love and patriarchy.

The film reimagines the life of a Miu Miu Wander bag as it moves between owners, places, and social realities. The bag becomes a silent witness to human experiences—love, loss, and reinvention.

Made during confinement, "In My Room" plunges us into the poignant story of a woman at the twilight of her life, through recordings of the director's deceased grandmother. Living rooms become stages where life is performed. Windows become portals to the lives of others.

Gita, a young woman in search of a life purpose, leaves her hometown in China for Malaysia. As she struggles to come to terms with her past and identity, Gita devotes herself to an intense martial arts training course—turning inwards and arriving to groundbreaking epiphanies about herself.

It's nighttime in 1980s Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Glittery and glamorous heels climb out of cars. Women shrouded in traditional black abayas make their way into a wedding hall. There, they reveal what's underneath: dazzling dresses and wild hair. Their true selves set free, unseen by male gaze. There are strict segregation rules in Saudi weddings. All eyes and ears are on the wedding singer, until the electricity cuts out suddenly. "This is the worst wedding singer ever," guests mutter, condescendingly. Will the young daughter manage to save her mother's dignity?