Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons’ SS23 show was titled A Touch Of Crude. Not crude as in crass, but crude in the sense of raw, unprocessed and intentionally rudimentary. The mood for SS23 was austere — fitting for the ever-worsening economic climate, it should be noted — and clothes were crafted from humble, raw paper-like fabrics that Miuccia described backstage as “nylonettes”. They were almost a bit synthetic, with something eerie about the ghostly translucencies of the papery organzas billowing in the dark set, a black paper panopticon designed in collaboration with film director Nicolas Winding Refn (Drive and Only God Forgives). Through apertures punched through the walls, fragments of Nicolas’ voyeuristic short films lit the bowels of the Fondazione Prada with a slightly seedy glare. As they emerged, it felt like the girls were wandering down dark corridors, expecting danger at the next turn. Come to think of it, that could just as well apply to their morning routine of reading the news.
This collection was about simplicity, but this being Prada, even the most simple of clothes were incredibly complex. They hinted at an interior life that goes far deeper than any surface decoration. There was something mysterious about the looks on display, cinematic in the way that the best movie characters are never overshadowed by their costumes. “The clothes are about simplicity, with no unnecessary complication,” explained Miuccia. “Politically, theoretically, aesthetically, we are drawn to these notions again and again.” You get the sense that she and Raf are constantly setting themselves challenges. What does Prada, so known for its sense of paradox that the house named its latest fragrance just that, look like once all the layers of contradictions are peeled back? Well, dear reader, it is the simplicity of a woman, in all her complexity and fear. It’s never been easy to be a woman, and recent events have only proven that it never will be. This was a collection that drew from a cinematic universe to convey a heightened sense of emotion and internal angst.
Something sinister lurked beneath the bright lights that cast a macabre, bleeding shadow beneath the extra-long, spindly eyelashes on every model. My guess is that Mrs P and Raf looked to the cinematic canon of psychological thrillers and horror flicks to create a sense of heightened character development in the clothes. There were hints to the fragility of Mia Farrow’s babydoll nighties and Elfin pixie cut in Rosemary’s Baby: lace-trimmed robes clutched at the chest as if confronting an intruder (or neighbourhood satanist). There were perpendicular-necklined Hitchcockian swing coats in Tippi Hendren tones of pistachio and pink sherbet leather, thrown over bare skin as if escaping a motel in a rush. The dramatically XXL eyelashes and straight-lined grey flannel jumpsuits were almost like more utilitarian, concrete-coloured versions of the Alex’s Droogs gang in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange — a departure from the warm comfort of Prada’s knitted Long Johns from just a few seasons ago. And the saturated neon tones of stained-satin dresses with jagged-edged slits glared like scenes from the original Suspiria. After all, the set was a clue: both Miuccia and Raf are ardent film buffs.
Just like all of those films, we see a woman in turmoil — but also with the strength to face her greatest fears; an underestimated protagonist who rises to the occasion. The clothes in this collection reflected that. Vulnerability could be seen and felt in the boudoir laces and cashmere knickers covered by ghostly scrims of sheer nylonette fabrics, perhaps a deliberately unsexy antidote to the Y2K-tinged lingerie and incendiary displays of skin on every other catwalk in New York, London and Milan. There was intrigue to the torn-paper dresses painted with tablecloth florals, which raised questions about just how those ripped-open seams came to be. And there was a mystery to the girls wearing crisp grey cotton shirts and flatpack tailoring, clutching their large rectangular Prada tote bags under their arms as if transporting something precious, or even dangerous. Something to protect themselves from harm.
And though many of the looks lacked Prada’s typically opulent touches of adornment — like last season’s exuberant plumes of feathers spurting from sleeves and tiers of embellishments and textures on wispy skirts — this time the details came in the intentional rifts, twists, creases and folds. Designed to look pre-loved, or even just folded or scrunched up and subsequently unpacked from a suitcase, they’re the kind of fabulously Prada clothes that would drive your dry cleaner mad, but will be collectable in years to come. “Life and humanity crafts the clothes — not superficial embellishment, but traces of living, leaving marks,” continued Mrs P. “This idea of clothes shaped by humanity excites us.”
Considering that this season, many of the clothes we’ve seen in other designers’ collections have quite literally shaped bodies that wear them — there’s something about Mrs P’s words that feel poignant. The idea of clothes shaped by humanity, time and history, is what is captivating a generation who would never consider buying new clothes, instead favouring thrift stores. For them, there is something comforting in knowing that a piece of clothing comes with sage wisdom and a rich interior life of its own. Here, Miuccia and Raf — ever the designers to experiment with the intellectualism of clothes — succeeded in designing garments that feel eerily familiar and yet totally new. Most fashion houses attempt to do that by simply exploring the ‘codes’ of their ‘heritage’. Prada’s clothes, on the other hand, feel like a refreshing antidote to whatever else is out there — they’re raw, simple and ready to be worn. And who knows, maybe the pendulum swings both ways: maybe these are clothes that have the power to shape humanity, too.
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Images via Spotlight