Thom Browne Deconstructs the Essence of Couture for Fall 2024
When Thom Browne presented his first haute couture collection in Paris last summer, the designs came with a particularly American twist. For the designer’s second couture collection, he brought an equally groundbreaking approach to the City of Light: taking the original underpinnings of couture—the muslin toile silhouette—and bringing it to the forefront. His completed garments were rendered in the surreally stiff, off-white fabric. Underlying the entire thing was a nod to the Olympics, and couture as a sport with innate showmanship.
The world of couture is often a mysterious one. Rarely do we get a peek at the inner workings of the secretive ateliers. Using muslin was a very Thom Browne way to peel back the curtain on the immaculate craft. The collection was a completed work-in-progress that had even the most jaded fashion fans nerding out on the details.
In lieu of conventional invitations, every guest received a muslin jacket with their names on it and was asked to wear it to the show for the most interactive experience—some, like Anna Wintour, complying despite the sweltering summer heat. The show opened with male models playing a game of mock tug-of-war in pristine pleated skirts and open blazers, before the first model stepped out in a sequin floor-length jacket, gold halo crown, and whistle-shaped bag. Maybe she was an ode to the referee, or perhaps she represented the gold metal herself.
“It was about playing with the reference of being here in Paris and the Olympics,” Browne told W after the show. “But the collection based everything on where couture starts, with the muslins and the toiles, and using the toiles as the final garments. Then we went into the work in progress, fabrications, and embroidery.”
The collection was most exciting when Browne pushed at the conventions of form. He created extensions of ruffled ridges with layers of gray and ivory along the shoulder and the hips, or the absolutely massive cocoon-like coat that floated off the model’s shoulders. Trompe l’oeil bikinis were placed on column dresses, a tailored jacket was broken down into radically new decomposed shapes, and a gown came with a beaded bronze bodice had asymmetric, pleated sleeves that looked like something from another universe. One gold embroidered dress took 11,000 hours and 42 people to complete. “Even the pattern work for the simple pieces was probably the most I’ve ever done,” Browne said.
But nothing could compete with the final wedding dress worn by Anna Cleveland. A shimmering, tailored gown with buttons cascading from the neckline to the floor, the back overloaded with an explosion of textural monochromatic flowers and plants, called to themes of both life and decay. As Cleveland stopped in the middle of the runway, she turned theatrically to show the dress at all angles to the tune of a haunting Etenraku, a kind of a Japanese melody. It was a metaphor for the finished vs. unfinished process of creating couture.
To add to the sporty effect, models wore teetering heels with cleats. The collection ended with a trio of embroidered metallic blazers over little pleated skirts and matching tops. Done in bronze, silver, and gold, they were the shining medals of the couture Olympics.
