The word fluidity has been thrown around a fair bit in fashion in recent years, most often referring to the see-saw of conversations around gender, androgyny and things like skirts and pussy bows. Perhaps as a prophetic sign of the times, Prada’s show helped refocus the conversation — instead focusing on a more literal interpretation of the notion. As Nine Inch Nails blasted out of the anti-slip stainless steel walls of the Fondazione Prada’s Deposito, the kind you might find on a construction site, gloopy trickles of slime began pouring down from the ceiling, piling up into foamy pools on the floor and forming a tunnel for the models to emerge through, like a scene from Alien. Before the show even started, you knew this was going to be interesting. Prada is always best when there’s some kind of tension or juxtaposition — or even paradox, to borrow from the title of their latest perfume. This show was titled ‘Fluid Form’. You could smell the tension from a mile off.
Essentially, the collection offered an examination of the physicality of the
male body and the way it is traditionally exaggerated through big-shouldered, narrow-waisted menswear silhouettes from the 1940s. The idea, explained Raf, was that “the body is not something you can see as still, which I think very often it is in a sartorial sense, it ends up being a very architectural construction and the body is restricted.” So, Miuccia and Raf started by looking at the simple, classic white shirt — “our ground zero,” declared Raf. From there, they began thinking of ways to make every garment — whether it be a denim blazer, a leather anorak, a tailored suit, sportswear or cargo vests — feel as easy, as lightweight, and as classic as a simple white shirt, allowing the man within the menswear to move with freedom. “It’s funny,” observed Mrs P, “because in the end the white shirt disappeared from the collection.”
What remained were plenty of suits, jackets and blazers constructed as shirts, unlined and light enough to be tucked into high-waisted shorts that left plenty of bare thighs. Look closely and you’ll notice that jackets come with wide shirting cuffs, perfect for rolling up and getting your hands dirty. Given that the temperature of Milan has been hitting record heights this week, you can understand the appeal of a tailored suit that comes with the lightness of a cotton shirt — especially when there’s a sense of silhouette that transforms it into something more sophisticated and silhouette-conscious. Even better, when it comes in a colour palette of some of Prada’s greatest hits: apricot, petal-pink, pistachio, lilac, red, and ultraviolet (a bit Marchesi, a bit Italian Futurist).
In recent seasons, Mrs P and Raf have repeated the word ‘reduction’, referring to their simplification of archetypal garments down to exoskeletons of the real thing. Last season, it was suits and shirt collars, stripped down to bare-chested ghosts of garments; the season before, it was salt-of-the-earth workwear uniforms. But these are strange times, and the idea of simplicity and minimalism might not be able to cut through the noise of fashion-as-spectacle, even if so many kids on Tik Tok are talking about ‘Quiet Luxury’. Always one to sniff out the winds of change, Mrs P explained the need for something a bit more decorative flair this time around: “Life and understanding of life is so complex — simplicity can be too simple,” she extemporised, wearing a bright-yellow sweater and some of her magnificent jewels. “We were interested rather in this elaboration, in this expansion. Sophistication of thoughts allows a reconsideration of simple things.”
Indeed, a handful of indigo denim shirts with perpendicular shoulders captured that sophistication brilliantly. Tucked into navy shorts, they offered a delicate balance of casual and constructed; clean yet distinctive enough to earn a Prada customer some fashion kudos. Of course, many of Prada’s customers will want something slightly jazzier, and for them there are Hawaiian shirts came with scrims of fringing — again, reiterating that idea of movement — as well as poplin cargo shirts that came adorned in hand-painted origami corsages, which are just as ornamental as the multiple pockets on furry cargo vests elsewhere, which are deliciously silly, when you think about it.
Whereas notions of elevated banality and flying-beneath-the-radar basics have been gaining momentum on catwalks elsewhere, it was refreshing to see Prada return to something more upbeat and extroverted, perhaps even a little bit more playful. I mean, there was a real-life gunge machine on the catwalk. Sure, the references were Matthew Barney and Joseph Beuys, but really, it’s as entertaining as children’s TV. As for the clothes — even though they can be serious and austere — this marked a lighter approach, in more ways than one.