1. I have a love-hate thing going on with Miuccia Prada. One the one hand, she makes clothes that are often both brilliant and gorgeous. On the other, despite her self-proclaimed feminist leanings, she also has moments like this. Now, I understand that it is not only common but expected for high end designers to refuse to clothe us larger members of the human race within the confines of their prestigious labels. I may think its utter, asinine nonsense, but c’est la vie. However, if you take on a job designing for the opera, where malnourishment is not the expected working condition, it is incredibly presumptuous and arrogant to then have a hissy fit and demand that the entire production rearrange itself for your convenience, depriving quite a few decent people of their jobs because you have some sort of pretentious bourgeois notion that you can’t design for fat people. That, as my critical theory-loving friend is wont to say, is problematic. If you are unable to find the strength within yourself to make decent clothing above a size twelve, you are not a very talented or imaginative designer in the first place. Now, with that rant out of the way…

    I adore the latest F/W Miu Miu collection. I love the slightly punky primness of the tight, boxy neck scarves, striped tights, and long skirts. My mouth waters over a pair of soft, suede shoes with Louis heels and ankle straps that curve the foot in a stylized arc, and the luscious, curly lambswool collars and severe zipper details on deliciously voluminous, belted coats are pure heaven. I am delighted by the textural play of fabrics—a soft, almost utilitarian sheen, a rich velvety fur, chiffon underskirts and heavy wools—and the jolts of bright, sweet color are like visual candy. It is this sort of playful creativity that keeps me paying attention to Miuccia Prada as a designer, even if I find her rather distasteful as a human being.

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