As a designer and as a person, Miuccia Prada is far from the icy intellectual she is often taken for. And if there is one collection that proves that beyond a shadow of a doubt, it's today's fantastic Miu Miu offering. In it, Prada extolled the virtues of the obnoxious brat, the slut, the bad girl—in short, the virtues of Dawn Davenport, played by Divine in John Waters' Female Trouble, screaming for her cha-cha heels (large bowed mules or gigantic platforms in this case) and unashamedly declaring that she is "a thief and a shitkicker." Female Trouble's theme song—the Divine version, and various covers—was one of the key musical accompaniments to the collection. So was the Shangri-Las' "Past, Present and Future," the spoken-word song by the rebel girl group (and punk inspiration) that is lushly laid over Beethoven's "Moonlight" sonata. With the use of that song, the depths and the feminist convictions of this collection, and of Prada herself, were also hinted at: "Go out with you? Why not / Do I like to dance? Of course / Take a walk along the beach tonight? I'd love to / But don't try to touch me, don't try to touch me / 'Cause that will never happen again / Shall we dance?"
In the reimagined interior of Auguste Perret's Palais d'Iéna, regular Miu Miu and Prada collaborators OMA designed what could only be described as an arched plywood Protestant church—complete with uncomfortable chairs to pay penance on. "For me it was about chance with this church," said Prada. "I did not know they were designing this, and it is perfect!" Here, the bad girl became badder, more stroppy and surly, more rebellious. "There was no self-censorship," the designer added as she commended John Waters' film, the cover versions ("I always like the idea of copies."), and that recurring item of clothing she is obsessed with: the housecoat. It was here in multiple forms, at its most decadent in Bucol couture fabric, mimicking the commonplace polyester. In fact, the "cover versions" of fabrics were crucial to this collection: These were some of the finest Miuccia Prada has ever used, and they echoed her Spring Prada collection. Here, too, was a stratification of history, but at the service of a more punk purpose. Rich fabrics mimicked poor, reversing the raison d'être of the Spring '13 Miu Miu collection, which is the one this lineup was most like. But instead of evoking Simone Signoret sashaying around in couture classics made of denim, this collection suggested Divine, Cookie Mueller, and Mink Stole in Baltimore, wearing the richest of hand-woven silk jacquards, like 18th-century-style chiné (seen in the beautiful boudoir pajama suits) and rose-embedded fil coupe, alongside wintry, heavy wools and large grained leather; even the sun got attitude from this Spring collection.
Here, Miuccia Prada showed the punk brat with the self-deprecating attitude that she really is—"I am not such a serious person," she laughed—by almost pastiche-ing her own Prada offering. Just as John Waters admired director Douglas Sirk, Prada plays her own John Waters for Miu Miu, with her Douglas Sirk self in charge of the Prada collection. By undercutting, laughing, and asserting her rebellious form of the feminine in fashion she makes a point for today. As the crowds of young front-row starlets gathered around the designer at the end of the show, you couldn't help but laugh that they, too, would be dressed divinely like Divine next season. How subversive is that?
