The big bang that began Miuccia Prada’s propulsion of her family firm from heritage brand to definer of the cutting edge was her introduction in 1984 of a line of bags, purses, and backpacks in black, industrial-quality “Pocone” nylon—a refinement of a material only previously used in the luxury industry as packaging. This evening she returned to the material in a collection that was full of Prada-past references, repackaged anew in garments and accessories that should prove very compelling to customers.
The venue was new—the “Prada Warehouse” adjoining its Fondazione on the southeastern outskirts of Milan. We walked into a logistics hub whose piled pallets of boxes in plywood and foil were stickered with fresh Prada logos—Instagram catnip—that either pointed to the past or were knowing jokes: handbag stencils with “this way up” arrows, the word Adarp (worth a backwards glance), a Prada banana stamp.
The first looks out were near total all-black Pocone: padded, un-quilted vests and jackets, shorts, long coats, loose pants, and skirts that emitted a synthetic rustle as they passed. Only the odd forearm clad in Prada-ized Fair Isle and the leather uppers of tough, molded-sole Chelsea boots leavened the nylon shine. Models wore ID tags featuring new Prada logos and cutout Polaroid head shots clipped to their clothes or bags. “I am in love with black nylon. I can’t have enough at the moment,” said Miuccia afterward. To help assuage that appetite she had recruited an impressive roster of codesigners—Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec, Konstantin Grcic, Herzog and De Meuron, and Rem Koolhaas—to create one-off interpretations of Pocone portage. Koolhaas came up with a “frontpack.” Herzog and De Meuron rustled up a bag printed with a jumble of letters because, as Prada explained, “They spoke about text and words being something from the past. Now they don’t represent any more ideas and content and concept, but are pure decoration.” Hmm. Words sure beat poured concrete and glass when it comes to communication, but fake news–wise, you sort of knew what they were getting at.
Post-Pocone the looks veered into voluminous, painted patch-pocket overcoats and jackets in leather for both genders with workwear-style Prada tags at the breast pocket. Then, after a brief Pocone redux softened by black knitwear, the collection suddenly swiveled. Bucket hats, padded shirts, and shorts printed with a mixed-up mishmash of past Prada prints—lipstick, banana, flames, and more—altered the atmosphere from monastic workwear to Hunter S. Thompson-esque casual extravagance. On men those Fair Isles still peeked from beneath short-sleeved shirt hems, while for women the equivalent were mid-arm crocodile gloves.
Then another penultimate swerve, this one into Linea Rossa waters: padded minimalist sportswear/workwear featuring the red Prada Sport flash before a final exhale of soft tailoring, some overlaid with a matte, rubbery wash, hand-applied and irregular to create a double shadow on the garments.
Afterward we gathered to hear Prada’s exegesis of the season. She said she had divided the collection into groups of “species” to “suggest that we are all controlled by machines of many kinds.” She gestured at the alt-Prada branded boxes towering around us and said, “Maybe in those cages there are strange mysteries, strange animals from the past.” Asked about the bigger picture—she always is—Prada observed: “We are living in a period which is interesting because we do not know where we are going. Of course scary, of course worrying, but also interesting because of the feeling that big changes are coming.” Shortly afterward, she added, “So many people say that beauty will save the world, but I don’t believe so. The world will be saved by intelligence and humanity and generosity—and possibly love. But of course the aesthetic world helps, a little.”
