To understand Verde Visconti’s relationship with her boss, Miuccia Prada, perhaps the most revered fashion designer in the world, one must first understand the intricacies of Italian. In English, we use the word “you” whether we’re addressing a friend, a stranger, or the King of England. But in Italian, there are two versions of “you”—“tu” and “Lei”—and choosing the right one depends on context. “We have the differentiation when you speak to someone more formally,” says Visconti, who only ever uses “Lei” with her boss. “It’s the equivalent of ‘thou.’ ”
Visconti, who is 56, was hired as a junior press assistant at Prada in 1996, and today she is in charge of talent relations and special projects for Prada and Miu Miu, and is also the PR director at Prada. “And we’re still in the formal,” she says. “I would never dare to say ‘ciao’ to Mrs. Prada, and she wouldn’t say it to me either.” If you were wondering, yes, everyone calls her Mrs. Prada. “There is such a reverence for her, and I see it daily,” says Visconti. “When she comes into a room, everybody goes bonkers. It’s incredible.”
Visconti’s presence in Mrs. Prada’s universe is enormous. She is the gatekeeper, a chicly dressed and sophisticated intellectual security guard. She runs point on all the artists and celebrities making pilgrimages to Milan for Prada shows and Paris for Miu Miu shows. In 2011, she played a pivotal role in launching Miu Miu Women’s Tales, a film series that celebrates female directors. In May, she hosted Prada’s table at the Met Gala, in New York, and oversaw dressing Sydney Sweeney, Sadie Sink, Gabrielle Union and Dwyane Wade, Gigi Hadid, Ava DuVernay, Hunter Schafer, and Bad Bunny.
Did it cross her mind in the mid-1990s that she’d last this long at this company? “Absolutely not! But every time another opportunity came up, I would think about it and decline because I’d just feel that this was my home,” she says. Early on, she thought she’d quit and return to university to finish a degree in literature. “I always say, if it weren’t for Prada, I probably would’ve had to attend 75 different universities to see and meet all the writers, architects, and artists I’ve met at my job.” She calls it a Prada graduate program.
Prada sweater, jeans, and shoes.
Visconti was born in Milan and grew up at Castello di Grazzano Visconti, a castle built by Gian Galeazzo Visconti at the end of the 14th century for his sister Beatrice and her nobleman husband. Like many grand homes in Europe, this one was used for various purposes over time, including as a fortress, and returned to the Visconti family at the end of the 19th century as a private residence. Visconti’s great-grandfather, the duke Giuseppe Visconti di Modrone, inherited a run-down, partially abandoned structure. But he was inspired by its roots and invested funds from his thriving pharmaceutical and textile empire to refurbish the castle in a neo-medieval style—and build a village around it, all of which remains with the family today.
“It’s complicated,” says Visconti of the living arrangements for the duke’s descendants, a sprawling assortment of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Growing up, they spent summers in the castle; since it didn’t have heat, they’d move into the village in the winter. “We have a smaller house, in the outskirts of the garden,” she explains. The duke had seven children, including a son called Luchino, the renowned filmmaker who bridged neorealism and operatic grandeur in masterpieces like The Leopard and Death in Venice. He was Visconti’s great-uncle. She was 5 when he died, so her memories of him are sparse but sweet. “He was always adored and respected in the family,” she says. “And still is.”
Her aristocratic surname packed a punch even before she started at Prada. “That’s a weird thing because, of course, it can go both ways,” she says, acknowledging her background raised expectations in some circles. “Ultimately, it’s nice to know someone in your family made a name for themselves.” Her parents raised her to be easygoing yet respectful of their lineage. “I’ve always been very free in my name. Also, I’ve chopped half of it off.”
When Visconti was 19, the photographer Fabrizio Ferri spotted her at a party, which kicked off a brief career as a model. “The first time I actually saw Mrs. Prada was when I was shot for an editorial that she did for Mirabella magazine. It must’ve been 1991,” she says. A modeling highlight was being photographed twice by Richard Avedon, but Visconti ultimately preferred being on the other side of the camera and took a job as an assistant at Calvin Klein’s Milan headquarters.
Prada was founded in 1913 as a family-owned leather goods and luggage company. Mrs. Prada joined the business in 1975. The brand gained momentum in 1984 with backpacks made of black nylon, which inspired more accessories in industrial materials. In 1988, Prada showed its first ready-to-wear line, and by the ’90s the brand was inspiring the industry’s minimalist, intellectual, and “ugly chic” trends, which had gone global by the time Uma Thurman wore a lavender Prada gown to the Oscars in 1995. In 1993, Mrs. Prada launched Miu Miu, a line inspired by her nickname, aimed at a more experimental clientele. In the same year, she established the Fondazione Prada, which opened a permanent exhibition space designed by Rem Koolhaas in Milan in 2015 and is credited for helping redraw the city’s cultural landscape.
Mrs. Prada didn’t hire Visconti. Her husband, Patrizio Bertelli (Mr. Bertelli to you), the CEO at the time, did. At the job interview, he asked her zodiac sign—she’s an Aries, which he took as a good omen. “So he said, ‘Okay, come along.’ ” Visconti’s rise through the ranks was organic. She absorbed more responsibility as people left for other jobs or to start families, and gradually she began to think in the Prada way. “If you were to present me with something that Mrs. Prada would see after me, I would know her comments in advance,” she says.
Crucially, Visconti understood the brand’s desire to create buzz outside of traditional luxury marketing. Miu Miu Women’s Tales was launched as a platform to support female filmmakers, and has featured the work of Janicza Bravo, Miranda July, Chloë Sevigny, and the late, great Agnès Varda, among many others. Last year, the program was expanded with Tales & Tellers, an artistic installation during the Frieze art fair in New York. In addition, Visconti organized the Miu Miu Literary Club, a live reading at the Salone del Mobile design fair in Milan. “The beauty is that we are grounding culture, arguments, conversations—call it whatever you want to call it—into the community. It’s not just a fashion thing,” she says. “You can make this more interesting and more worthy. We’re not ignoring the world. We’re not operating in our own wonderful cloud of expensive clothes and beautiful things.”
Visconti adds that her boss wants people to engage with the brand beyond social media clicks. “Mrs. Prada said, ‘At the end of the day, I’m interested in the ideas.’ It’s about gathering people in the same room and having conversations. Look, it’s like we’re in a dictatorship all over the world, so opening up safe places for people to meet through a fashion brand is incredible.”
When she’s working, Visconti is in Milan. “But I always like to sneak back to the country and maintain a life outside of Prada,” she says. “I need to be at home with my dogs.” She has a dachshund called Bond, “as in James Bond,” and a rescue mutt called Kimi. She is married to Max Brun, a film producer who has worked on all of Miu Miu Women’s Tales.
As one can imagine with a 630-year-old castle, maintaining the Visconti family home can feel like a second job. “It’s my nest, but at the same time it’s heartbreaking because you have to pull every idea and every effort that you can to keep it together,” she says. Occasionally, she and others in her family have thought of turning the Castello di Grazzano Visconti into a hotel or full-time event space. But for now, it’s just the duke’s descendants and the ghosts. “Oh yeah, we didn’t discuss her, did we?” says Visconti of Aloisa, a captain’s wife who died of heartbreak when her husband left her 150 years ago. “There are many more ghosts, but you can see her everywhere.”
Visconti demurs when asked what her favorite Prada collection is, but when pushed she identifies the fall/winter 2003 show, which mixed graphic florals with heavy, drab, brown tweeds—a perfect example of the brand’s “ugly chic” aesthetic. “The collections grow on me over time,” she admits. During the fashion shows, Visconti sometimes asks herself, “What was that?” But by the time the clothes are in stores, she wants all of them. “That’s what Mrs. Prada does so well.”
One of Visconti’s most significant red carpet moments was dressing Lupita Nyong’o in a powder blue georgette silk Prada gown for her Oscar win in 2014. Another favorite was when Carey Mulligan wore a black strapless Prada dress to the Oscars in 2010. From afar, it looked like it was decorated with sequins, but when viewed up close the paillettes turned out to be miniature spoons, forks, and mechanical watch gears. A thrill of Visconti’s is identifying top talent early on. “I love that we’ve put people in the spotlight that nobody was considering, and made a difference in their careers,” she says. For many young actors, an invitation to the Miu Miu show is a good omen. “But now I don’t want to get into red carpet conversations, because it’s become such a commercial world, and it’s less interesting for me.”
Prada surprised some fashion insiders when it started engaging with influencers, including TikTok star Charli D’Amelio. “Mrs. Prada will say, ‘I don’t understand, but I want to understand,’ ” says Visconti. “Some people could be negative or build barriers, but she’s the opposite. That approach has taught me a lot. When I get bored or I’m not into something, there’s always a voice in the back of my mind that says, ‘We are living in it, so you have to try and understand it.’ Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Does Mrs. Prada ever shock her anymore? Sure. “She’s the thinker in the room. If we are in a small circle of trust, she’ll come up with an idea that nobody has thought of, that is completely upside down from where we were going,” says Visconti. “At the end of the day, you’re like, Still?” Her smile gets wider. “She did it again? And then: She’s right. She just sees things before other people.”
Hair by Tom Wright at Streeters; makeup by Lynsey Alexander for Prada Beauty at the Jolly Collective.
Produced by Partner Films; Executive Producer: Jessica Pepper-Peterson; Producer: Daniella Fumagalli; processing and printing by Bayeux; postproduction by Output; Fashion Assistant: Camilla Dora Chiarolanza; Hair Assistant: Flavio Chiviló; Makeup Assistant: Sarah Edenborough; Production Assistant: Giovanni Pigliapochi.
