Prada back to its best with wearability and peculiarity

Waiting for the Prada show to start, the editor of an indie fashion magazine sitting near us lamented the days when Prada’s clothes were unfailingly wearable and idiosyncratically chic. It had got a little weird of late, he said. Why don’t they still do things like that skirt over there, he asked, pointing to a red satin garment on the front row opposite.

The fashion gods were listening: for this was a return to form. The presentation may have been selfconsciously stark and the soundtrack designed to assault, but the clothes themselves were a delight. A-line wrap skirts in citrusy shades of satin, double-breasted boxy coats with gilt buttons and contrasting trims, and high-necked tunic blouses had an irresistible, grown-up appeal.

But Prada needs some peculiarities and these were here too: scuba bootee sandals for one (there were also high-heeled Mary Janes). Padded Alice bands that seemed to have been modelled on the one the Duchess of Cambridge wore to Prince Louis’s christening were so Un-prada, it was almost like old times. A beloved brand that can still surprise.

Earlier in the day at Max Mara, Ian Griffiths, its dapper British creative director, proposed a modern Amazon – taking the new feminist reworking of ancient history currently in vogue.

Madeleine Miller’s Circe, Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls, Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad and the recent release of the first translation of The Odyssey by a woman – Emily Wilson – were his point of entry for a reworking of history through the voices of women.

But what does the “part warrior, part ocean goddess”, to be exact, wear?

Griffiths popped her in earthcoloured one-shoulder jumpsuits – her bag worn diagonally across to give off the impression of a bow and arrow slung jauntily across one’s breastplate. Over-the-knee gaiters provided a literal armour.

As the designer who first put a Muslim model – Halima Aden – on to the catwalk, Griffiths is no stranger to working a headscarf into a look. Here there were multiple, colourcoordinated iterations, which as well as niftily speaking to his broad client base, for him played on the idea of clothing as a defence “arming yourself in the city, with a headscarf and sunglasses”, he explained backstage.

At Fendi, a similar mood prevailed. Here, Karl Lagerfeld cited an urban jungle, drawing together the natural world with the utilitarian.

Many-pocketed bomber jackets were worn with bags again slung diagonally across the body; popping orange trench coats were paired with matching high, paper bag-waisted shorts, balletic pleated skirts and blazers, and a finale of pretty organza dresses scattered with floral and bird embroideries.

One note, at all these shows, this idea of female empowerment (albeit through the eyes of men at Fendi and Max Mara) was perhaps hindered by the heeled court shoes. Max Mara’s did feature flaming wings fluttering off the back, but they’d have made a terrible click-clacking giveaway in that giant wooden horse.