The pandemic is ongoing, and it's difficult to see how the business of fashion returns to business as usual. In normal, non-plagued Januaries, hundreds of writers, buyers and professional look-gooders once crammed into the glistening, vaguely ecclesial Fondazione Prada: an exhibition complex in the south east of Milan that underwent a tasteful Midas makeover. It was widely-considered the highlight of fashion week's Italian leg. That probably won't change. But for now, Prada conducts its sermons digitally. Worshippers cannot sit shoulder-to-shoulder in the bethel of good taste. They're behind a screen, longing for something a little like a normal Prada show and all the normal Prada rituals: watery, hushed conversations as the first model steps out into the labyrinthine show space, pops of colour peeking through knitwear and nylons, informed, thoughtful design that, once again, would see Mrs Miuccia Prada retain the title of fashion's intellectual-in-chief (the title was successfully defended again this season, FYI).
For all her genius though, the designer can only replicate so much. And after the seismic announcement of Raf Simons' election as Prada's new creative co-pilot – a partnership theoretically on par with a Kubrick Hitchcock crossover (with much less blood) – one can assume that this is unlikely to be the big menswear debut the house originally had in mind. But, as they say almost every other hour, you've just got to get on with it. Which is exactly what Prada and Simons did, and they made it very clear that those trapped behind laptop screens were front of mind.
As soon as the live stream flickered into view, we were guided into Prada's new domain over the shoulder of a suited model. Inside this never-ending tesseract, each room became a new giant grown-up sensory board, lined in textures and fabrics that are best enjoyed by way of a face down snow angel. With previous stints at Calvin Klein, Dior and Jil Sander, Simons was always expected to bring some added depth to Prada. Nobody could've assumed it'd be this literal.
Models trapped inside the hallowed cubic halls of faux fur, marble, shagpile and resin occasionally broke out into thrashing dances to the groans of a heaving techno soundtrack by British-Canadian electronic artist Richie Hawtin. We're not the only ones losing our minds. What's more, their clothes also gave fleeting reprieve to a neglected sense of touch. Just as prints clashed in onion-like layers (something of a house signature in recent years), Prada and Simons also fired on all cylinders for the fabric buy. One look in particular offered no less than five different textures in a single, cohesive outfit: turquoise leather gloves, woollen overcoat, mohair jumper, nylon roll-neck and jacquard argyle long johns. Which sounds a lot. Though during another lockdown in which we stare at the same four walls in the same go-to sadwear, Prada quenched our thirst for visual stimulation – any stimulation – in stuff that looks as good as it feels.
In fact, texture overload was baked into almost every single look. Traditional suits saw arms removed to reveal kaleidoscopic body suits: "a streamlined 'second skin', serving to delineate the figure in dynamic movement" said the show notes. Knitted layers were neatly stacked but almost folklorish; Midsommar, but just set in a Milanese concept store, and balanced out with austere, very nice, very smooth nylon bomber jackets. One exceptional electric yellow overcoat was constructed from panelled ridges, enough to elicit a satisfied 'mmmmmmmm' from even the choosiest of critics. The camera close-ups only served to remind our fingerprints of their ongoing starvation. And even when looks were relatively simple – several in the deepest, darkest shade of Pradan black – the shimmer of cotton and the shine of stacked leather Oxford shoes gave yet one more touchpoint to the collection's extensive offering.
At the show's close, several students from around the world were invited to pitch questions to Prada and Simons, each sat in in the fuchsia faux fur room of their luxury Rubik's Cube. Celeste from Cambridge, Massachusetts asked why spatial design was just as important to Prada as the clothes. Simons made his feelings clear. "It's something that impacted us very much. Out of many dialogues, we kind've concluded that it was not important to create a narrative architectural context for this collection, more a feeling context."
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