Day: 23/02/2023

Season Of Skirts

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Prada goes from pencil to circle. All with gravitas and gallantry

Who’d send out on the runway a first look with a predominance of a white skirt except Prada? An unsexy ankle-length?Not high-waisted? And a plain grey sweater to go with that? And no accessory, not even a bag? But flat pumps with origami-like flaps? Prada had no qualms in allowing the fewest essential to be in the spotlight, to be held up to scrutiny and, consequently, be admired. There were no statement pieces (perhaps, the skirts?), not that Prada does not make statements. It’s just that they are usually less proclamations than propositions. Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons are not inclined to putting a loud-hailer to their designs. That white skirt (yes, we were taken with it) is not extraordinary in shape, but the sheer overlay on which floral-patterned medallion cut-outs, like Chinese 剪紙 (jianzhi or paper cutting), were neatly appliqued in a grid, did focus one’s attention on it. That it looked like giant motile cells added to its pull. Just one skirt.

Perhaps it was the bareness of the runway that allowed us to focus on what was coming down it. The show was, as before, held at the brand’s own space, the Fondazione Prada. Only existing pillars, painted in what could be traffic orange, could be considered sets. But as the show proceeded, floral casings—in white blooms and green foliage—slid down, as if a bridal show was to unfold. We were enthralled by the soundtrack too: First, a menacing industrial growl/hum, and then Roxy Music’s In Every Dream Home a Heartache, a brief transition of Vangelis’s electronic Spiral, before The Kinks’s I Go To Sleep. And then, totally unexpected was The Blue Danube waltz by Johann Strauss! Was the highly mixed genre (which, to us reflected more Mr Simons’s taste than the maison’s) a reflection of the no-fixed theme of the collection? Sure, the show notes mentioned, menswear, uniforms, and, er, wedding dresses—did these explain those white skirts? And the floral display?

Prada has, of course, been a proponent of uniforms for as long as we can remember their RTW. And their revisit this season was not unusual, and far from groundbreaking. But then Ms Prada and Mr Simons were not limited by what the need for uniforms usually entails—specific functions or the enhancement of unity. So they could, for instance, mix the military with the nuptial, not that both recognisable aesthetics appeared glaringly in one outfit. But a tad subversive it was of the pairing of a hint of bridal dress (that skirt!) with the noticeably military (that sweater!). Celebratory meets utility. There was also placing of work shirts—the type a commercial pilot might wear—atop mini skirts with folded or draped panels. Or those not at odds with the SAF’s No.2 dress, just with delightfully oversized epaulettes, and teamed with high-waisted skinny(!) pants. There were, too, very-Prada details elsewhere: flapping trains (even on printed, body-skimming dresses Anna Wintour would quickly place an order, but she very likely, too, would ask the train to be chopped), detachable collars (bi-coloured!) to go with oversized blazers (in case you wished to wear them alone), and the new spot for the Prada logo-plaque—on the white skirts, to the left, at hip level.

The beauty of Prada is that they don’t complicate things. They let their sense of proportion, control, and colour come through unambiguously. You know what you are seeing. Off-beat details are there to throw the orderliness, even neatness, off balance. Deconstructionism is not their urgent story (never have), but tilting the kilter is. The symmetry is so until you see a distraction. Yet, the distraction is not, well, distracting. The simplicity is still preserved, enhanced, beautified. Some people might think that we’re bias, eager to point out the restraint and directness of others, but not Prada’s. For avid followers of Prada (and we know there are many), that requires no defending. We’ve often been told that Prada isn’t for many women, not their sisters, or mothers. Perhaps, therein lies their immense charm.

Fade-In/Fade-Out Fendi

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Could this be Fendi’s most cheerless collection under Kim Jones?

At the end of the Fendi livestream, we wanted only to remember how many times we yawned, and yawned. But we could not recall. As with most fashion show livestreams, the presentation did not start on time—20 minutes later, in fact. It was a test of our ability to stay awake, even when it was not that late in the evening here (just after Channel 5’s slightly more arousing News Tonight). It didn’t help that it was a runway obligation devoid of energy-boosting colours, just a train of beige, baby blue, and grey, a union of the unsaturated (until towards the end when there were, finally, shots of fuchsia and red). We are not opposed to the neutral palette (some of our favourite brands make magic with it), just the joylessness of the event, the anti-pleasure-ness. It has to be said—and with delight—that the right soundtrack was picked: former members of Throbbing Gristle, Chris and Cosey’s appropriate Lost Bliss.

And the staging was admittedly good. A lit, white, patterned circle (possibly composed of exposed bulbs)—like a paper doily or a lace coaster—first appeared at the far end of the long, darkened runway. Then a ring of spotlights, hung before that fascinating dot, cast fractured light around it, rapidly giving shape to a pattern, much like a kaleidoscope, only that the graphic formation didn’t change; it remained uniform and symmetrical. When your eyes were able to adjust to the illumination, you realised that there were very strong beams emerging from circular light sources that trace the perimeter of that ring. The rays were so powerful that they shot vertical lengths of light far forward, forming a tunnel in which the glum models dutifully did their work. It was spectacular, a light show deserving its own time slot, and an audience.

But we’re here to talk about the clothes. We hope it is not that obvious that we are holding back. Regular readers of SOTD would know that we’re not massive fans of Kim Jones’s Fendi. We do not think he is a very convincing womenswear designer. But women love Fendi and, we have been told—with considerable fervour—that Mr Jones’s designs are adored and appreciated, and sold. So we’re always curious as to what could prompt such ardour. And it is fun, we suppose, to trace the path forward, on which Mr Jones has so smoothly coasted along. This autumn/winter 2023 season, which marked two years Mr Jones has been with the brand, he went quite lean, keeping things simple. But simplicity is subjective and may only appear to be so. While there is the straightforwardness of a-dress-is-a-dress, the designs are a lot more beguiling, if you look close enough. But it’s the sum effect that is not pulling any heartstrings. The clothes just look stodgy, the stuff for a mundane life, and a similar wardrobe.

Some of the styling seemed to suggest a young girl’s first attempt at grown-up fashion. But, in fact, Mr Jones was inspired by an adult—Delfina Delettrez (and in case you don’t, journalist-turn-influencer Suzy Menkes made sure you did on Instagram), the daughter of Silvia Venturini Fendi, who is behind the label’s accessory, menswear, and kids’ lines. It is, of course, advantageous and career-protecting to butter up members of the family whose name is on the labels sewn on the clothes, just in case massive double F logos on a shirt or two aren’t quite enough. When not blaring the name, there were negligee dresses, as well as knit dresses with slits that can be unbuttoned to the rump, shirts and tops with halter-neck straps, the strange, not particularly attractive vests with additional panels on the sides that hid the forearm, but exposed the upper and shoulders, and many pairs of unremarkable—but no doubt immensely wearable—trousers. Pleated skirts are a thing, too: they are ankle-length or mini, some worn over pants. Excited yet?

Screen shot (top): Fendi/YouTube. Photos: Fendi