Thom Browne loves the old red, white, and blue… in his own deeply twisted way. The designer closed his show with The Star-Spangled Banner, but it was Jimi Hendrix s cliché-bombing live version that he opted for. That seemed only appropriate, after a presentation that exploded the masculine certitudes of patrician Americana. Browne s shows have transcended mere menswear manifesto to become pieces of surreal performance art—at least, that s one way to interpret a finale composed of a "bride" demurely toting his train of tricolored rosettes down the catwalk with a retinue of lifeguard "bridesmaids" in attendance. Such flourishes—there was also a sixties surfer-dude thing going on, though more as styling cue than thematic undercurrent—ensured the presentation was reminiscent of some of Rei Kawakubo s more provocative propositions in the past. Just like Kawakubo, Browne has yet to encounter a rule he didn t fancy breaking. Hence, proportions so skewed they were positively bizarre. The key word was "short." Suit jackets had sleeves that ended mid-bicep, and shorts were essentially hot pants.
It s Browne s peculiar achievement that such indulgences don t compromise the "maleness" of his men. Even when they were wrapped Lana Tuner–like in big fluffy towels, they were still butch—weird, but butch. That s why his sensibility has infiltrated the menswear mainstream. As far as Trojan horses go, it was easy to imagine this collection s overload on plaid tickling a few fancies. Like a plaid suit covered by a coat in a lacquered version of the same pattern, or a suit, shirt, and tie all matching. Men who have adjusted to the Browne crop will find it in a more generous, fuller-legged, wider-cuffed version for spring.
But that s commerce. It s inevitably more intriguing to speculate on the implications of shirtsleeves extended and knotted straitjacket-style at the back, or suits bulked up to Sasquatch proportions with rosettes. Browne s men are undoubtedly men, but they re not moving as easily in the modern world.
