Like Dior, this is a traditional flared mini that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the King’s Road in London in 1965. And much like in the ’60s, they dominated the entire collection: 29 of the 39 looks shown on Prada catwalks in Milan and Shanghai were short.

Either way, this move towards sky-high hemlines is a major departure from recent trends. For more seasons than I can count, floaty, silky skirts that end mid-calf and floral ankle-length dresses have been in vogue. As a to-the-bone miniskirt fan myself, I personally won’t hear a word against a shorter hemline – but even I have bowed to pressure and relegated them to the back of my wardrobe since 2019.

No longer. Optimistic, sexy and much more flattering than you think, minis can be worn in so many different ways – and at so many different ages. Once the weather gets colder, style them with ankle boots and a jersey – or for something smarter, pair them with patterned tights, flat Mary-Janes and a form-fitting polo neck.

If you don’t feel totally confident about your legs (who does?) then cold weather is your friend: opt for knee-high boots and a flared mini kilt, which is more forgiving on the bottom and upper thighs.

Try to balance out the shortness with a bulky blazer, a buttoned-up shirt (you can’t have your legs and your cleavage out – but you know that already) or an oversized jumper. Opaques can feel more covered up, but sheer black and even patterned tights are often more flattering on the leg, and more fashionable this season.

For true miniskirt inspiration, we must turn to Mary Quant – the woman who invented the design and named it after her favourite car. This autumn, a new film called Quant is being released – it is directed by Sadie Frost and includes contributions from fashion designers Vivienne Westwood and Jasper Conran and supermodel Kate Moss.

Together, they expound on the legacy of the woman who powered the youthquake that defined a decade – by 1965, queues snaked around the block of her boutique Bazaar as the girls of Chelsea (Quant said they had “the best legs in the world”) swarmed the shop in search of ice-cream-coloured micro-mini dresses and thigh-baring skirts. Finally, young women had the option to stop dressing like their mothers.

Model Clare Stirling (then Hunt) started working with the designer in those heady years. She recalls the feeling of coming down to London from the countryside and entering Quant’s Chelsea studio, where martinis were on offer, Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton were lounging on the sofas, and Vidal Sassoon styled everybody’s hair.

“Going from my convent school in Cheshire to the King’s Road was like going from night to day,” Stirling said. “Or more like stepping into a different country. I don’t think people today realise quite how much she changed for women – and how fast. Everything she did was about making us feel more comfortable but also more liberated in our minis. I can’t tell you how exciting that felt.”

Decades later, and the miniskirt is no longer particularly controversial – and certainly not revolutionary. And yet somehow it still has the power to change your mood. My own mother worked for Mary Quant in the ’90s and for my first school disco, the designer lent me a tiny white skirt embroidered with yellow felt daisies – I am in my thirties now, but I have never forgotten how I felt wearing that skirt.

More than trends, minis are about optimism. Nearly 60 years since the skirt exploded like an unexpected firework onto the Swinging London scene, there is still something wonderfully defiant about them: they’re sexy, yes, but more importantly, they’re inherently cheerful. And after a year like this one, what could be better than that?