“Calm, nice, gentle,” said Miuccia Prada. “Sometimes it’s good to reflect, and be a bit more calm,” observed Raf Simons. “Also, when fashion does too much,” added Mrs. Prada.
This was the first Prada show since moving to its cavernous Fondazione at which the space was offered undressed: the only adornment was 30 or so shaggy, flower shaped rugs. Before the show began we listened to birdsong. The first look comprised a white camp collar shirt with a washed out sunrise illustration worn over a baby blue turtleneck (an archetypal Prada styling), plus our first glimpse of the elastic-hemmed bloomer shorts-shorts—complete with popper pocket for stashing essentials—that would return episodically. Simons said these related to the designers’ return to childish innocence: more cynically, you could see these bloomers becoming menswear’s next-season equivalent to Miu Miu’s recent jewel-embroidered panties.
Both designers suggested that this collection was in part about disassembling, simplifying, and reducing to the essential, a “change of spirit.” Prada said it was a counterpoint to “useless complicated ideas: a lot for the sake of doing a lot. Also, this doesn’t mean that doing less is easier. To do the perfect cotton trouser requires more effort than something more complicated.”
The paradigm piece Mrs. Prada referred to—flat-front crease-legged pants delivered in multiple flavors of sugary pale pastel—was just one among many. There were tailored jackets both single- and double-breasted, stripe-flashed fitted tracksuits, belted blousons, collared caban and raglan shouldered minimalist bikers in shiny vinyl or crumpled leather (beautiful). Macs and boat necked knit sweaters were also quintessential house-touched examples of their type: Prada-prep.
Accessory-wise, there were tubular leather duffel bags and a broad selection of house nylon backpacks and daybags whose usual all-black palette was replaced with a series of outdoorsy two-tone combinations. These dialogs of color echoed down to the gommino soled driving shoes, part of a similarly paradigmatic footwear offer: plimsoll sneakers, leather oxfords, sliders, sandals and flip flops.
There were some tricksier pieces mixed in beneath the glossily colored, centrifuge-fringed rattan hats. These included pullover smocks in shirting cotton that came striped or patterned with more naive Daisy Age florals, and knit sweaters with cinched waist lines and buttoned pockets that mirrored those of the first-look bloomers. A submariner’s olive sweater fringed with woolen tassels and epauletted, flap-pocket shirts that fell to skirt length were both military paradigms pacified through design.
A rare voice in the mostly abstract soundtrack’s soundscape intoned “we’re justified and we’re ancient” over some ambient slide guitar: a message from the KLF’s Mu Mu (not Miu Miu) land utopia dating from the ’90s. There were badges and T-shirts with washed out graphics that seemed souvenirs from other utopian sounding locales; Lover’s Lake, Last Swim, Peak’s End.
Said Simons: “This has been the easiest collection I have ever done.” Interjected Mrs. Prada: “Everything worked with everything.” Added Simons: “Everything worked really easily. Sometimes you have a very specific architectural proposition—a shape, a shoulder, a waist—and for this, we said right from the beginning, we don’t want that. We want everything to be human, also in its dimensions, and light, and fresh, and colorful. So then when we started working on what we put together, it was the easiest for me ever.”
“This was not conceptual,” concluded Mrs. Prada: “It was more instinctive.”