Does a Brand Make Culture, or Does the Culture Make a Brand?
The two most overused words in the modern brand lexicon are “culture” and “community.” That isn’t even a controversial statement. It’s just the truth. And it’s why I’ve been banging the good clothes drum so freaking hard for the past few months — the past few years, really. We want brands to do what they do (make wearable stuff) and be good at it, not to do lots of other things that distract and deceive in order to sell things without having to make those things any good.
While communities are like matter and can be neither created nor destroyed by brands, culture is something that can be harnessed meaningfully. It’s not something that can be captured by a moodboard or collaboration. It’s something that a brand can tap into and participate in through real, material action. And in the fashion world, the world of making and selling stuff en masse, culture only matters if the clothes are good. Otherwise, the entire enterprise is buffoonery.
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This past week, I made the journey from New York to the the so-called Japanese art islands of the Seto Inland Sea. It took many hours by car, plane, and boat to arrive there, where Prada was hosting the first few days of its roving Prada Mode event series. Prada Mode is one of these nebulous brand activations that takes place over the course of multiple days, in multiple locations, under the purview of a single curator. In this case, legendary Japanese architect Kazuyo Sejima.
I was surprised to learn that this is the 12th edition of Prada Mode, which has previously popped up in Miami, Paris, Shanghai, Moscow, Dubai, Tokyo, and Abu Dhabi, among other cities, with cultural luminaries such as Damien Hirst, Theaster Gates, and Martine Syms curating. Prada describes Mode as an “itinerant private club with a focus on contemporary culture.” I would call it a party.
So the party started on Naoshima — one of the other Art Islands, the one famous for the photogenic Yayoi Kusama pumpkin — where I, several journalists from around the world, and a posse of Prada staffers visited the Chichu Museum, a breathtaking architectural marvel designed by another Prada consiglieri, Tadao Ando. This was a stupifying art viewing experience that I’d recommend above any other I’ve ever had, particularly the rounded tile room, lit only by the sun, that contained five stunning paintings by Claude Monet and 700,000 tiny squares of carrera marble covering the floor.
The following day we took a small boat to Inujima for a tour of the one-kilometer-wide island — population 20, give or take — to inaugurate a new pavilion: two large, flower-shaped steel structures in a garden, designed by Sejima and donated by Prada. We toured the island’s art houses, abandoned homes that had been renovated and converted into small galleries, and participated in various workshops, like making pizza with a famous Tokyo chef and assembling a sculpture made of flowers in a bamboo forest with an ikebana visionary. Talks about various architectural concerns were held under the new Prada-donated pavilion. Finally, we ate a meal of fish and fresh vegetables prepared by the chef and team from the beloved Kyoto restaurant Farmoon.
As far as culture was concerned, I felt stuffed to the gills. And while Prada made sure to tastefully brand everything with the triangle logo, from the water bottles in the hotel room to the menus on the table, it was a very light touch as far as brand activations go. Sejima appeared chicly appointed in a different current-season Prada look each morning, but there was no gift bag in the room and, by my count, only one influencer in the mix. And even he seemed to be genuinely enjoying the panel discussions about urban planning in Japan, China, and the UK. That is to say, I was aware of Prada’s presence but not annoyed by it.
None of this was surprising or particularly novel for Prada. The brand is famously culturally attuned, especially in the highfalutin worlds of art and architecture. I was already familiar with the conceptually dense runway shows designed by Rem Koolhaas, and the Fondazione Prada in Milan, which features a Wes Anderson-themed cafe and has been the site of ambitious exhibitions by artists such as Ryan Trecartin, Miranda July, and Steve McQueen.
But given the dire state of many luxury brands in 2025, it seemed significant that the brand could pull off such an uncommercial, highbrow cultural experience. I couldn’t have bought anything with a Prada logo on it if I’d wanted to, and nothing about the experience, really, will ever reach the masses. So I bought a book and a box of incense at the Chichu because I wasn’t going to leave empty handed.
But we weren’t done yet. The next stop on the Prada contemporary culture cruise was Osaka. Back on the boat, back in the car, a few hours later, we were standing under a different pavilion designed by Sejima, this one significantly bigger, in the center of Japan’s second-largest city. Hundreds of guests gathered to mill around on a sprawling lawn listening to live music and DJ sets curated by Craig Richards, watching architecture films, and hearing Tadao Ando give a light and rangy talk about his various architectural triumphs.
The Osaka proceedings kicked off with a press conference during which the CEO of Prada Japan spoke about “a different kind of Prada,” i.e. Prada as a kind of cultural institution, not a maker of bags and dresses. It was the first time in days I’d heard any mention of fashion at all.
Culture and brand is a chicken-and-egg scenario. Does the brand create the culture? Or does the culture create the brand? When done right, the way Prada does it, both things happen simultaneously. Prada knows that it doesn’t need to sell bags in order to, well, sell bags. The name sells the bags on its own. It’s already a proven maker of good clothes; that trust is there. The brand has the space and the freedom to both participate in and generate meaningful cultural moments.
This is one unique advantage of being a founder-led brand. And it’s why the hardcore experts and enthusiasts who make the fashion world go ‘round are going to independent brands and shops to buy. A culture is only as strong as it is authentic, and authenticity must come by way of a person with an actual point of view, not a task force with a KPI.
On my last day in Osaka, Prada Mode opened to the public — it remains open through this weekend should you find yourself in the vicinity. You still can’t buy a bag there, but can certainly immerse yourself in a certain version of contemporary culture. And if you enjoy it, there’s a Prada boutique just down the street.
