It’s impossible to talk about the 2010s without talking about the "Wrecking Ball" music video. You remember it. The sledgehammer. The white tank top. That raw, tear-streaked close-up that somehow felt both incredibly vulnerable and deeply uncomfortable.
Behind the camera was a man who, at the time, was the gatekeeper of "cool" in the fashion and music worlds. Terry Richardson.
Looking back from 2026, the collaboration between Terry Richardson and Miley Cyrus feels like a fever dream from a different era of the internet. It was a time when "shock value" was the primary currency of pop culture, and Miley was ready to cash in. She wanted to kill Hannah Montana once and for all. Richardson, with his "porno-chic" aesthetic and a reputation for pushing boundaries, was the guy she chose to help her pull the trigger.
The Era of Overexposure
In 2013, Miley Cyrus wasn't just a singer; she was a lightning rod. She had just performed that VMA set with Robin Thicke. People were losing their minds over her hair, her tongue, and her sudden pivot to hip-hop-influenced visuals.
Then came the "Wrecking Ball" video.
Richardson directed it. It wasn't just a music video; it was a visual manifesto. The video currently sits with billions of views, but the fallout of that partnership has lasted far longer than the song's time at the top of the charts.
Why did they work together so much?
It wasn't just one video. Richardson and Cyrus were basically inseparable for a year.
- The Harper’s Bazaar Shoots: He shot her for the September and October 2013 covers. These were high-fashion, couture-heavy spreads.
- The "Terry’s Diary" Series: This is where things got "Terry." These were the candid, flash-heavy photos on his Tumblr. Miley in a Nike sports bra, Miley smoking, Miley wearing Richardson’s signature thick-rimmed glasses.
- Candy Magazine: Later, in 2015, they reunited for a cover that was even more provocative—featuring nudity and body hair, pushing the "shattering the Disney image" narrative to its absolute limit.
Honestly, it was a symbiotic relationship. Miley got the "edgy" credibility of a high-fashion photographer who was notorious for being "dangerous." Richardson got access to the biggest pop star on the planet, keeping his name relevant as the fashion world began to quietly whisper about his behavior.
The Dark Side of the Lens
You can't talk about Terry Richardson and Miley Cyrus without talking about the allegations. For years, models had been coming forward with stories of sexual misconduct on Richardson’s sets. We’re talking about Jamie Peck, Rie Rasmussen, and Charlotte Waters. They described a "casting couch" culture where "Uncle Terry" used his power to coerce models into sexual acts under the guise of "art."
Miley, for her part, always seemed to be in the "protected" tier of his subjects. She was a superstar. She had a team. She was a peer, not a vulnerable 18-year-old model with no leverage.
But that’s the complexity of it. By 2017, the industry finally reached a breaking point. Condé Nast (the guys who own Vogue and GQ) officially banned him. Brands like Valentino and Bulgari dropped him like a hot rock.
💡 You might also like: Why the Toy Story End Credits Changed Everything We Knew About Animation
Did Miley ever regret it?
Interestingly, Miley has been somewhat vocal about the "Wrecking Ball" video in later years, though her regret usually centers on the song itself. She once joked that she’ll "always be the naked girl on a wrecking ball."
But the association with Richardson is a different story. As the #MeToo movement gained steam, the "edgy" photos from 2013 didn't look like artistic liberation anymore. They looked like a young woman being documented by a predator who used her fame to sanitize his own image. It’s a classic example of how "cool" can turn "cringe"—or worse, "complicit"—in the span of a few years.
The Legacy of the Collaboration
The partnership between Terry Richardson and Miley Cyrus serves as a case study for the "shock" era of pop.
It worked. "Wrecking Ball" is an iconic piece of pop history. It effectively transitioned Miley from a child star to a serious (albeit controversial) adult artist. But it also validated a director whose methods were already being questioned by the very industry that employed him.
When you look at those 2013 photos now, they feel different. They lack the joy you see in Miley’s later work, like Endless Summer Vacation. Instead, they feel frantic.
Key takeaways from the Richardson-Cyrus era:
- Image over Safety: In the 2010s, the "vibe" of a photographer often outweighed their reputation.
- The "Peer" Protection: High-profile celebrities often have a completely different experience with controversial figures than the "nameless" employees in the same room.
- The Rebrand: Miley’s transition was successful, but it came at the cost of being permanently linked to a man who was eventually exiled from the industry.
What You Should Do Next
If you’re interested in the intersection of celebrity and the fashion industry’s "open secrets," don't just look at the photos. Look at the fallout.
First, read the accounts of the models who spoke out against Richardson, specifically the reporting by The Guardian and The Huffington Post from 2014 and 2017. It gives a much-needed perspective that the glossy magazine covers tend to hide.
Second, compare Miley’s "Bangerz" era visuals with her more recent creative direction. You’ll see a massive shift from "performed rebellion" to "authentic expression." The difference is usually who is behind the camera—and whether they’re there to capture the artist or to use them as a prop for their own "edgy" brand.
The industry has changed. The "Terry Richardson" era of photography—defined by harsh flash and power imbalances—is largely dead. And honestly? That’s probably for the best.