Honey, I Shrunk the Suit

Fashion designer Thom Browne walks into his office, trailed by his wire-haired dachshund, Hector – who, like everyone else on the premises, is clad in Thom Browne apparel (in this case, a tidy red sweater, not a suit). Mid-century furnishings have been placed with great intention throughout the space. As the staffers come and go, one gets the sensation of having been admitted to a benevolent cult, comprised of eager, immaculately-groomed, Ivy-league prepsters — with a surrealist twist.

One of the central curiosities about the entire Thom Browne enterprise: it is paradoxically restrictive and unbridled at the same time — a massive, seasonal exercise in restraint and release.  If Browne’s headquarters represents the zany yet buttoned-up restraint of his operation, his fashion shows exude its fantastical release. Going from the Thom Browne studio to a Thom Browne presentation feels akin to teasing open an elegant clock and watching the springs explode out. The show scenarios vary wildly: one season, there was a nightmarish circus set, complete with models bound as mummies or sent down the runway adjoined in a Siamese twin suit; another presentation mimicked an elaborate, ghoulish funeral. At yet another show, models relentlessly hammered away at a wooden house frame for the duration of the show.

Read more about Mr. Browne’s stylishly peculiar world here, in Ms. Blume’s profile of the designer.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>