Thom Browne: My Shows "Are Not As Intellectual As People Think"

Thom Browne has long had a penchant for the theatrical. On the catwalk, he’s conjured up Victorian-era zombie brides with powdered faces and absurdly comedic tropical bird-people next to surfers at the beach. But for his Parisian womenswear debut, Browne upped the ante, even by his standards, greeting guests with a pair of majestic creatures—half-crustacean, half-cosmonaut— resembling blobs of chewed gum, playing the Little Mermaid soundtrack and unleashing a giant tulle unicorn operated by two model puppeteers, which quickly became the highlight of fashion month.

But as any customer of the designer knows, what Browne exhibits at his otherworldly and at-times bizarre shows bears little resemblance to the striped cardigans and button-down shirts one typically finds at more than 200 stores that carry his wares. Why is that? “I feel the shows should be conceptual. They should tell a story, and they should make the more plastic things that you do seem more interesting,” the soft-spoken Browne tells Vogue from his seat at the waterbar in the basement of the Parisian concept store Colette, where he is staging a takeover during the month of October. “I have a strong and classic part of what I do… what people see when they come to the showroom. There’s no reason I need to show that.”

Since establishing his label in 2001, Browne has been awarded, in addition to the CFDA’s Menswear Designer of the Year prize in 2016, 2013 and 2006, the Cooper Hewitt National Design Award in 2012, as well as the GQDesigner of the Year in 2008. By popularising the slim-and-shrunken silhouette in the Noughties, he launched a revolution in menswear that has transformed men’s tailoring more than anyone else since Giorgio Armani.

Though he’s been showing menswear in Paris for the past seven years, Browne only moved his womenswear show to Paris this season. With womenswear now contributing a third of total sales for the brand, he needed a bigger stage. “It wasn’t really about wanting to leave New York per se,” Browne says. “It does seem that there’s a bigger audience. And also an audience that appreciates more of the conceptual side of what I do.” Last year, Sandbridge Capital, the private equity firm, purchased a majority stake in the company from Stripe International, the Japanese investment firm. The company also appointed Rodrigo Bazan, formerly president of Alexander Wang, as the chief executive to expand the business, focussing on womenswear.

But unlike his Parisian counterparts, who might reference essays, films or the political climate in their collection notes, Browne often forgoes the highbrow in favour of the mundane. In fact, he’s often amused that critics dedicate so much of their time to interpreting his work. “For me, some of my inspirations are very sophomoric, and are not as intellectual as people think they are,” he says. “The idea of this show is the very simple idea of two little girls dreaming: it’s what I thought of when I would think of two little girls dreaming. It was true fantasy, including unicorns, and mermaids, so it was a very charming kid’s story.”

Though the references can be superficial or light-hearted, “the clothing is not a joke,” Browne assures us. “I am very serious about how the clothes are made, and the quality of what people see. Because I think that’s more of the fashion.” So never mind what the critics say, what was the real theme behind his Parisian womenswear debut? “The simple idea—not simple in actualising it—but the simple idea of taking my classic American fabrics and redeveloping it all in a fabric that I thought was very French, which was the tulle. And then also utilising tulle in a way that I don’t think is used very much, in a very tailored way.”

It’s hard to believe Browne didn’t train to be a fashion designer. Born in Allentown, Pennsylvania, Browne attended the University of Notre Dame in Indiana, where he studied economics and competed in long-distance freestyle races on the swim team. By chance, Browne found himself in the fashion industry after moving to New York in 1997, working in Giorgio Armani’s showroom before being discovered by Ralph Lauren, who hired him as a designer at Club Monaco after seeing Browne wearing one of his signature suits.

Today, Browne wouldn’t be caught in anything but a three-piece suit—except when he’s running—but he confesses he wasn’t born wearing a tie. During his Notre Dame days, “it was more grey flannels, khakis and navy jackets,” he divulges. After university and before moving to New York, Browne lived in Los Angeles, where he tried his hand at acting, and it was there on the West Coast that he developed a devotion to grey suits.

For those unfamiliar with Browne’s predilection for tailoring, it’s not enough that he wears the suits himself—the individuals he employs dress just like him too. Upstairs, where preparations are underway for a cocktail reception later that evening, a dozen or so men and women dressed in Browne’s uniforms are scattered across the shop floor. Soon, Sarah Andelman, the co-founder and creative director of Colette, will change into a Thom Browne suit of her own.

I observe that they all look the same. “We don’t look the same,” he interjects. “For me, I think there is something very strong and very individual and unique about uniforms,” he explains. “I think it does really showcase each person’s individuality. Look at us: we are wearing the same thing, but we look very different, and we are all very different people. I think that’s a very strong message.”