The venue for Thom Browne s Paris debut was a modernist architectural landmark—the headquarters of France s Communist Party, designed by Oscar Niemeyer. The mind ran riot. How would the master showman of fashion surrealism rise to his surroundings? Surely there d be at least one guy in a long train. Well, surprise, surprise. Browne left the architecture to speak for itself as he mounted his most commercial show to date.
The opening—a march-past of "astronauts"—promised signature space oddities from Browne, but then the man-droids stripped off their jumpsuits to reveal two-button jackets, Bermuda shorts, and kneesocks underneath. In other words, a straightforward presentation of one of the designer s most sellable looks in an all-styles-served-here range of options, from his own classic gray flannel to a shimmering sequined plaid. The designer loves a uniform, and this is probably his most uniform look, so the event acted as a newcomer s introduction to his singular aesthetic. For those already partial to his work, it was a chance to see Browne s concentration on his craft: the fabric development, the appliqués, the embroidery, even his morbid wit (one motif featured a shark pursuing innocent little goldfish).
