I’m not a shopper and never have been. So I was having an internal struggle when I found myself driving more than seven hours from my Central Texas home to visit a high-end designer retail store in the desert.
Why was I dedicating so much time to this quest when I don’t even know Versace from Vuitton? Those are different, right?
Chet visits the art installation called Prada Marfa, along U.S. 90, about halfway between Marfa and Van Horn.
Courtesy Chet Garner
But once I arrived at the remote outpost known as Prada Marfa, the answer became clear.
I reached Marfa in record time but was disappointed to learn that my destination was still 36 miles west. I cruised U.S. 90 parallel to a set of train tracks for what seemed like hours, past the crumbling set of the movie Giant and through the tiny town of Valentine. I was about to turn around thinking I had missed my destination when I spied a boxy building up the road on my left. I pulled over and stepped into the Texas heat.
This was Prada Marfa, a stark white building that looks like an honest-to-goodness boutique storefront beside an empty highway. It’s as if anyone could walk in, slap down some cash and leave with the fanciest footwear in West Texas. However, at this Prada store there is no staff. They don’t accept credit cards. In fact, the front door doesn’t even open. Because even though it looks authentic, Prada Marfa is a permanent work of art constructed in 2005 by the Swedish duo Elmgreen & Dragset as a comment on consumerism.
I peered through the window at displays of thousand-dollar purses and a wall of elegantly lit high-heeled shoes. I chuckled, wondering if anyone ever trekked out here expecting to buy designer items and left disappointed. I was happy to only window-shop, but even that cost me 14 hours on the road.
