Imagine you’re at the office, ready for a productive day in a sleek light blue boiler suit, complete with epaulets and patch pockets. Suddenly, an invitation to the opera lands in your lap. Do you scramble home for a change, or do you confidently accessorize with elbow-length satin gloves, sparkling bejeweled pumps, and dazzling drop earrings, then head straight out?
Or perhaps a natural disaster is imminent, catching you at home in your underwear. Do you waste precious moments trying to find a more ‘appropriate’ outfit, or simply throw on a pea-green chore jacket, grab your handbag, and go?
Prada’s latest collection, showcased on Thursday, offered a powerful life lesson conveyed through clothing: when faced with a whirlwind of unexpected events, don’t panic. Adapt. This philosophy, while perhaps not explicitly ‘doomsday prepping,’ clearly informed Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons, the brand’s co-creative directors. The show’s striking runway, bathed in the hue of an orange hazmat suit, underscored this urgent message.
The collection advocated for a ‘make do’ approach—not by mending, but by cleverly mixing and unmatching whatever clothes are on hand (or, ideally, in the vast Prada archive). Because, as we’ve all learned, you never quite know what kind of event, good or bad (and lately, probably bad), is lurking just around the corner.
In theory, this idea of liberating oneself from rigid fashion norms is incredibly alluring. There’s a certain freedom in discarding old assumptions about what to wear, where, and how, allowing exigencies to dictate style rather than outdated conventions.
In practice, however, some of the concepts were a bit less convincing.
For every brilliant and audacious combination—like a daffodil-yellow party frock layered under a military parka, paired unexpectedly with opera gloves and a clutch bag, or a celadon 1960s cocktail dress with a pink bejeweled neckline playfully tossed over a voluminous tangerine taffeta pouf skirt—there were elements that didn’t quite hit the mark.
Take, for instance, the fabric scraps that vaguely resembled bras, completely deconstructed and devoid of any actual support. Mrs. Prada herself famously dubbed them ‘a useless bra’ backstage. In the world of Prada, a touch of ‘uselessness’ can be a thought-provoking experiment, a luxury in a Darwinian age. Yet, whether consumers will embrace spending Prada-level money on such an impractical garment remains a point of contention (though, given Mrs. Prada’s history with Miu Miu and influencers and impractical clothing, anything is possible). This theme of deliberate impracticality continued.
Alongside truly imaginative hybrids, like a wrap skirt meticulously pieced together from three, four, or even five distinct swaths of lace, pleated wool, and cancan ruffles, were some rather whimsical designs. These included what can only be described as ‘suspended skirts’—flimsy, tube-like garments hung from shoulder straps, resembling a cross between an apron and a weightlifter’s onesie, or perhaps a body-sized tote bag, sagging conspicuously below the belly.
And then came the bloomers: short, puffy, and elasticated at both the waist and legs, looking much like pull-on diapers. While Mr. Simons insisted these were ‘a Prada thing since forever,’ a nostalgic nod to childhood, their infantilizing nature felt at odds with a practical guide to navigating contemporary existence through dress.
Still, even the less successful ideas highlight a crucial truth: Mrs. Prada and Mr. Simons *have* ideas. They might be brilliant, they might be silly, but crucially, they possess the courage to experiment. This boldness is a rare commodity in fashion today, and it’s precisely why Prada maintains its mythical status in the style universe, commanding hosannas in the room even for concepts that might seem inexplicable to outsiders.
Ultimately, one clear message emerged from the collection: keep a pair of satin opera gloves in your back pocket, and you’ll likely be ready for anything life throws your way.