With Bertelli's business-shark brain and Prada's prescience for what the public didn't yet know it craved, the brand's revival wasn't long in coming. The surprise product that set everything in motion was an innocuous black backpack, made from the same fine nylon fabric that Prada's grandfather had used as a protective cover on his steamer trunks (and the Italian Army had used for parachutes). It was from these same trunks that Prada borrowed what would become the ultimate status symbol of the nineties: a metal tag in the shape of an inverted triangle, bearing the company's name in small capital letters. By mid-decade, the chic, stealth-status bags were seen slung over every fashionista's shoulder-and knockoffs hung by the dozen from street-corner stands around the world.
Thanks to multiple revenue streams and runaway sales growth, Prada's signature pale-green stores popped up like mushrooms across the globe, with flagships from Old Bond Street to Rodeo Drive. Several of the stores are architecturally important, designed by leading names: Rem Koolhaas did the much-hyped SoHo, New York, outpost; the Swiss team of Herzog & de Meuron was behind the diamond-paned Tokyo building. Prada has a deep interest in contemporary art; it steadily informs her work, and the Prada Foundation has commissioned performance pieces, sculptures, and films from some of the most influential artists of the day.