For his second womenswear show, Thom Browne invited New York to a party, and oh what a party. Guests came in their droves to the unconventional location of the New York Public Library, and therein entered a 1920s living room, bedecked with chandeliers and already inhabited by five frozen figures; one strewn on a sofa, complete with shimmering fish tail, another in a birdcage and covered in feathers. Initial audience confusion was abated when a gramophone crackled into life, blasting out a Cole Porter soundtrack and marking the entry of the party guests, a stream of women clutching cigarette holders, in outfits that veered wildly from Bright Young Things' garden party chic to the surreally sexy and somewhat grotesque. Length and proportion were played with – trousers cut too short, skirts sliced and dropped; fringes and tassels were scattered throughout, as though at random, and tweed coats were layered and layered until necks disappeared into collars. Everywhere the flapper theme was warped and compromised – military garters peeped from under elegant princess coats, a jacket sleeve was ludicrously extended, ending in a lobster claw, and instead of ropes of pearls, necklaces included floor-length strings of rubber ducks. All in all, an electrifying show; yet one that was so besotted by extravagant spectacle that the exquisite details of some individual garments were perhaps lost in the melee.
Text by Tish Wrigley
