Prada Fashion Quotes

I would rather carry around a plastic bag with five thousand Euro inside, than carry around a Louis Vuitton/Gucci/Prada bag with only one hundred Euro inside!

…This… ’stuff’? I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don’t know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise, it’s not lapis, it’s actually cerulean. You’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn’t it, who showed cerulean military jackets? …And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of 8 different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic casual corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff.

As I raced out of the office, I could hear Emily rapid-fire dialing four-digit extensions and all but screaming, 'She's on her way-- tell everyone.' It took me only three seconds to wind through the hallways and pass through the fashion department, but I had already heard panicked cries of 'Emily said she's on her way in' and 'Miranda's coming!' and a particularly blood curdling cry of 'She's baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

My idea is always to avoid nostalgia.

BABY BOY, FASHION IS NOT FOR ADVERTISING YOUR FAVE SEX ACTS ON YOUR SHIRT. UNH-UNH, NO IT'S NOT !

Do not mess with my friends, myself or my Prada.

Your mother is a baker," I snapped. "How do you not know how to work a bleeding stove?" "And yours is a flashy fashion designer," he shot back. "But I don't see you prancing around the place in fur coats and Prada handbags.

She couldn't detach from him, couldn't catch her breath, and didn't want to. Not ever again.

I love Prada. Not so much the clothes, which are for malnourished thirteen-year-olds, but I covet, with covety covetousness, the shoes and handbags. Like, I LOVE them. If I was given a choice between world peace and a Prada handbag, I'd dither. (I'm not proud of this, I'm only saying.)

Well, fashion’s full of trickery, darling. But if you’re going to believe this season’s Prada boots will make you sexy and powerful, you should at least be as open to the concept that you have a soul and that that soul has a purpose as unique as your fingerprint and eye scan.

Fashion is instant language.

Oh, don't be silly - EVERYONE wants this. Everyone wants to be us.

I loved Prada. I proudly considered myself a Prada whore, albeit one who couldn’t afford it.

Yet with the rise of AI, robots, and 3-D printers, cheap unskilled labor will become far less important. Instead of manufacturing a shirt in Dhaka and shipping it all the way to the United States, you could buy the shirt’s code online from Amazon and print it in New York. The Zara and Prada stores on Fifth Avenue could be replaced by 3-D printing centers in Brooklyn, and some people might even have a printer at home. Simultaneously, instead of calling customer service in Bangalore to complain about your printer, you could talk with an AI representative in the Google cloud (whose accent and tone of voice would be tailored to your preferences). The newly unemployed workers and call center operators in Dhaka and Bangalore don’t have the education necessary to switch to designing fashionable shirts or writing computer code—so how will they survive?

Local NGOs are like high-fashion boutiques. They sell very high-quality products – the Prada bag, the Armani frock – to a small number of people at very high prices.

Miuccia Prada couldn’t have said it better: "What you wear is how you present yourself to the world, especially today, when human contacts are so quick. Fashion is instant language.

Oh. My. God. I’m a walking disaster,” I say to Emily. She’s sitting on a stool, wearing a gorgeous yellow robe, and spins around to look at me. A robe. Now why couldn’t I have had one of those? “What is the matter?” She’s wearing little rag-curlers, like me, but on her they look cute and perky. The white cloth contrasts with her dark locks, like some kind of fashion statement. Somehow I doubt I look quite as charming. I walk over to her bed and throw myself on it with a heavy sigh. “I just walked around wrapped up like this and ran into Alex. God, I’m lucky I didn’t see anyone else. I bet Victoria would have just loved seeing me like this.” Emily giggles. “You do look quite silly.” “Thanks,” I say, rolling over on the bed. “I can’t believe he saw me.” Emily sips at a small glass on her vanity and then turns and stares right into my eyes. “I had believed you had no interest in my cousin.” I snarl my lip at her in disgust. “Oh, I am so not interested in him. He is only interested in himself. I mean, really. Could he show some interest and compassion for the people around him? He’s totally self-centered. And on top of that, he thinks I should censor everything I say and be a docile little girl or something. I mean, really.” Her grin widens. “There is no need to sway me. I believe you.” “Oh.” So then why is she grinning at me like that? And more importantly, why doesn’t she hate him like I do? I mean, she might not know about the secret kid, but she knows he’s all for her marrying that Denworth guy because he’s done nothing to help her get out of it. Shouldn’t she resent him, even if he is her cousin? “Now, let us talk of more important topics: our attire for tonight’s dance.” And now I grin back at her and all thoughts of Alex disappear. This is going to be so fun.

didn’t want to seem like a materialistic Prada whore.” “But you are a materialistic Prada whore,