Especially in lower school, whenever I had a teacher I was particularly fond of, I always considered it to be both a blessing and a curse — a blessing because that usually meant one less teacher who found pleasure in denying students “bathroom privileges,” and a curse because I knew the chance of me blurting out “mommy” instead of “Ms Delanty” were far greater. I’ve always considered it unfortunate that such a habit should follow me through life, but in the case of Prada and Miu Miu, I simply can’t say that’s how I feel. More times than not, when I look at Prada’s spring 2015 collection, a paralyzing sense of awe washes over me, and a faint “mom” or “mommy” bubbles up. Yet to say this elicits the same sense of embarrassment that came with calling my 11th grade chemistry teacher “mommy” would be wrong. This time, I don’t feel an ounce of embarrassment — due in part, I assume, to the maternal role Miuccia Prada has rightfully hijacked in the fashion world: as the older, far-wiser-than-most, and timeless embodiment of fashion.
My mom has fed me nuggets of wisdom my whole life, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also enjoy picking-and-choosing from the advice that comes my way. A point of contention when I was younger was my uncanny ability to tidy up…well, nothing. “How hard is it to hang up your coat when you walk into the house?” was a question my mom frequently asked and to which I, much less frequently, had an answer for. Well finally, it seems, things are turning in my favor. Miuccia, my other mom — by way of her recent campaigns — has just the advice I’ve been looking for all along.
It started with Miu Miu’s spring 2015 campaign; a cherubic Mia goth, in whom I saw something kindred: perfectly capable of dressing herself in full Miu Miu, Mia is also equally as incapable of so much as tucking in her sheets.
And I’ll admit the message I chose to glean from just these two photos alone was a bit far-fetched — romantic even. But by the time the images for Prada’s spring 2015 campaign poured in, I knew there was no mistaking it. Miuccia isn’t simply here to pacify us — to tell us that it’s OK if we don’t make our beds; she’s emphatically urging us not to:
Don’t tuck in your sheets, she says, but also don’t even bother taking off your shoes when you enter the house:
No hook to hang your bag on? That’s what the floor is for:
Put your stuff on your shower ledge for all she cares:
Throw your jacket in the goddamn sink:
Toss your keys on the floor — and oh, those flowers you got? Throw them over your shoulder as the front door slams shut behind you; even if you did stuff them into a vase, they’d still have the shelf-life of a week anyway.
…Or maybe this is just the hopeful little girl in me talking.