Miuccia Prada Prada.

Byline: Mark Holgate

Beyond the polite niceties of mouthing congratulations, there is a reason people crush backstage to meet Miuccia Prada after her shows: They want to see, up close and personal, what Miuccia herself is wearing-because what Miuccia wants to wear, almost inevitably, is an accurate barometer of how women the world over will soon be dressing. If Miuccia's in a full pleated skirt, you can bet you'll be wanting to ditch anything that's constricting from the waist down. If she has sprinkled a constellation of diamond brooches on a cardigan, you, too, will soon develop a yen for sparkly pins. Even the sight of a headband holding back the designer's hair gives pause: Maybe you don't have to be seven years old to get away with one?

Backstage you also have a chance to catch a few rare words from Miuccia, about what she thinks of fashion that particular moment. Prada's pronouncements come down-a bit cryptic, sometimes puzzling-like utterings of the Delphic Oracle. Take, for instance, how she explained this latest fall collection to Vogue: "A femininity that is antique, dolente, and strong-like in some Chinese movies." As a visual representation of this somewhat mysterious statement, she provided an image of the actress Li Gong, who in her recent movies-2046 and Eros-has revealed a dark, dramatic beauty, and worn clothes with the spare and elegant silhouette of the fifties.

Sure enough, you can find echoes of the Chinese cinema in Prada's strict black coats with collars that suggest the necklines of silk robes, and dresses scattered with blooms that look like they belong on a fan from old Shanghai. But these are scudding references, ...