She is “a vagabond”—a woman who might be out traveling the world, or may be going on a trip somewhere deep within herself, or is perhaps making an even deeper pilgrimage into the labyrinth of women’s history. Anyway: Take it as read that the intent of Miuccia Prada’s Fall collection is as layered as the clothes she showed, in a purpose-built, almost medieval marketplace of a wooden set. “We need to understand who we are today,” Prada declared afterward, surrounded by a three-deep crowd of female journalists. “Everything is symbolic. It is like a collage of what is happy or painful, of whether you are feeling beautiful or horrible, when you have love or no love. I thought of it as like someone who has all the clothes she’s ever had on the floor in front of her in the morning, and she must choose how she’s going to assemble herself.” In show notes, Prada put it succinctly: “The nature of women is complex and ineffable . . . Like a Russian doll placed inside one another.”
And then, as she broke away, she made another telling remark: “I feel more and more, as I get older, that it is my responsibility to teach.” Looking closely, there were leather-bound books, studded with gold stars and moons, hanging from necklaces and bags. What were they? Recipes for spells, secret notes containing the age-old folk wisdom of women?
Prada has often said that fashion’s ability to contain and refract multiple meanings beats many other cultural endeavors for its intelligence. But what is she teaching us on the primary level of what to wear or how to dress this season? Oh, lots! That a big tailored jacket with dropped shoulders and sleeves covered in fur is something you might feel like wearing with argyle tights and high heels—if you have the legs. That full ’50s-style skirts and dresses in rich gilded cloque silk look just as good—and that you could wear multiple belts buckled on top. That utility outdoorwear—something like nylon and quilted jacket liners—and trekking boots should be part of the everywoman picture, just as much as midnight blue or dark brown velvet ’40s-style cocktail dresses, with draped Hollywood sleeves and gold embroidery. That you might want a distressed leather pencil skirt. That bottle green ankle-strap velvet wedges are a definite. And that when the fleet comes in, you might want to pinch that sailor’s cap . . .
But here we are plunged back into the realms of symbolism. The sexual and historical portents carried by that one little white cap, on a woman, strongly evoke World War II and sweethearts at home, and tarts on the dock—just at a glance. On men—these were first shown on boys in the Prada menswear show in January—they again bring up the imagery of war, and the stock symbolism of homoeroticism. Sailor caps: They were sweet little nothings thrown on the backs of girls’ heads, but they also reminded us that there is a war going on.
To add to all that, this season Prada brought in the artist Christophe Chemin to make prints. His work is loaded with surreal narrative and allusion, and he writes too. The show notes described a cycle of prints based on the French Revolutionary reordering of the calendar, with every month given a feminine name. End of day: One-season souvenir artworks are always a great attraction for collectors, and the Fondazione Prada in Milan is international proof of Miuccia’s weight in that arena. Like the “vagabond” woman she spoke about at the beginning, Miuccia Prada has traveled, and continues to travel, across many intersections in life. Maybe she was talking about herself?
