The time has come to put away bourgeois, girly playthings and get militant. Miuccia Prada’s Spring collection was, she said, “interested in someone who can be active and present today.” In Prada’s mind, there is no equivocation about exactly what that means: “Just wanting to change the world. Especially for women, because there’s so much against us, still.” You knew what she was talking about—countermanding the forces that threaten to roll back women’s rights. Since the election of Donald Trump, the need has become urgent. Can fashion be an ally in that struggle, though? “I am suggesting militant women in a very practical way,” Prada said. “Through clothes, which is what I do.”
It was an empowering show, set among the work of women cartoonists and manga artists whose drawings dominated the company’s huge headquarters. “They are mainly contemporary artists, but also some from the ’30s to the ’60s,” said Prada. “I found it inspiring that with a pencil in your hand, you can tell your life.” The collection was based on putting her stamp on a blank canvas. Coats, jackets, and cropped pants were screen-printed flat so that the creases showed—a rough-and-ready analogue process deliberately dating back to the time before digital printing came along to smooth out the human touch.
The result felt strongly reminiscent of the feisty, do-it-yourself energy of early-’80s club and street style in London and New York, viewed through a Prada lens. For one thing, it was a terrific show of tailoring, from big overcoats with pushed-up sleeves to oversize jackets with lopped-off sleeves to slick plastic raincoats—and one example of the classic black nylon Prada raincoat. There were New Wave-y mash-ups of animal prints, cat-eye shades, zebra and leopard-spot prints, kitten-heel slingbacks, and pointy studded brogues.
In the original, this kind of styling was all sourced in thrift shops. It was the language of girls who would take their scissors to old dad coats, chop up old dresses to wear over trousers, and decorate themselves with protest pins and gig souvenirs. The styling still read as distinctively on-brand Prada, what with the printed knee-socks, the designer’s penchant for shorts, patches of embellishment, and the appropriations of feminist art cartoons. The empowering part? These Prada riot girls were in sync with the “woke” generation’s sensibilities. The one good thing that’s coming out of the terrible times we live in is that no one needs to preach politics to young people anymore. Even if they can’t afford to buy her stuff, it’s a good feeling to look to Ms. Prada and know she’s on their side.
