Earlier this week, a slack-jawed crowd huddled outside @miumiu’s flagship store in Central London. The shop’s vertiginous windows – usually reserved for some kind of festive display – bore witness to an uncharacteristically harrowing scene. Somewhere on the second-floor, a customer’s puppy, Portia had lost its footing and nose-dived through an oxygen-starved partition in the building’s facade – its tiny body suspended in a perilous gap 30-feet above the New Bond Street pavement. ⁠ ⁠ That this should have taken place at Miu Miu, of all brands, makes total sense. Its clothes – as gorgeous as they may be – are also the embodiment of the word “feckless”. All impractical miniskirts, bejewelled cardigans, and dainty ballet flats, the brand has dedicated itself to good-time girls who want to dress like they’ve never experienced a critical thought passing through their synapses. In many ways, the shop girls were just as bewildered as the imperilled puppy itself, all of them wagging their tails in merry unison when one industrious staff member fetched a clothes hanger and scooped up the dog like a guileless child hooking a duck at a simple country fair. But when there’s a blame, there’s a claim. ⁠ ⁠ Here, we take some time with Portia as she bravely recounts her dice with death and designer goods ➡️⁠ ⁠ Tap the link in bio to read more 📲⁠ ⁠ ✍️ @danielwrodgers⁠ ⁠ #DazedFashion #MiuMiu