On May 4, 1963, the Rolling Stones, then a scrappy quintet known mostly for banging out Chuck Berry covers, gathered for their first official photo shoot on the streets of London’s Chelsea district.

Five bad boys in the making, some still sporting adolescent pimples, they slouched in ratty sweaters, rumpled jackets and ill-fitting trousers, looking like students stumbling through a three-day bender after getting expelled.

“Word got out that the results of the session were disgusting,” Andrew Loog Oldham, the Stones’ manager, later said. And he could barely contain his glee. That just-got-out-of-bed, to-hell-with-you look, Mr. Oldham added (he used considerably saltier language) “would define them and divine them.”

But it would hardly limit them. Over the next five decades, the Stones would turn the stage into the world’s largest runway, transforming their look constantly and radically, even as they stayed true to their filthy, blues-based sound.