Thom Browne really has a lot on his plate since he opted to transport his shows from New York to Paris. “I did put the pressure on myself,” he said as he walked through his extensive Pre-Fall showroom collection. A week on, he was orchestrating a large Fall menswear production in which he filled the École des Beaux-Arts with snow and had male models in gray onesies climbing into sleeping bags on a row of camp beds. In the twinkling of an eye, his Spring women’s show will be held in early March. But all his pressure is surely proving worth it: After his last, otherworldly womenswear performance in September—with its dancers, character costumes, and mind-blowing application of fabric techniques—next time, European audiences are guaranteed to be jostling for seats to see what this new guy in town has in store.
Yet, of course, Browne is far from a neophyte in fashion, having been producing ready-to-wear since 2003 and with a substantial network of stores with his name above the door in China, Japan, Korea, and England, as well as in the States. What’s special about his work, for all its quirky faerie–sci-fi aura, is the startling quality of its textures and branding devices, which can’t really be appreciated on a screen.
The closer you get to it, the more rigorously American it becomes, harking back to prep school uniforms on the one hand and the American sportswear tradition of camel-hair coats and gray turtlenecks on the other. One way or another, it’s all classics: striped cotton poplin shirts, kilts, puffers, madras checks, tweed jackets, school ties. What makes it Thom Browne? Something in the narrow perpendicular shapes; the meticulous binding of inner seams with red, white, and blue; and the flash of the grosgrain ribbons and bows, which are a kind of brand identifier, logically scattered all over his clothes.
Ease is one American fashion trait Browne doesn’t carry forward. His layers—jackets over coats, over tailored skirts—can be pried apart, with the pieces worn separately. Finally, he loves Hollywood glamour, too. There’s a Cecil B. DeMille–worthy trompe l’oeil one-shoulder silver Deco gown with a sparkly pastie on one breast here. Chicer still is the narrow gray moire taffeta evening sheath with a matching fur-trimmed jacket. Browne noted it had been inspired by “Olivia de Havilland in Hush, Hush . . . Sweet Charlotte.” The reference might pass anyone by, but for the woman looking for a dignified way to dress for evening, it elegantly ticks all the boxes. The still discreet provenance of this beautifully simple look will only work to the wearer’s advantage.
