What Do You Do When Someone You Hate Wears a Brand You Love?
I think about Thom Browne a lot. No brand is as consistent, and no designer is as committed. By all accounts, both things have paid off. What I don’t understand is why the thing that works for Thom Browne, the key to his success, has never worked for anyone else.
Consistency is a dangerous drug for any artist. We as fans, as consumers, love it as much as we hate it. We want more of what’s good, again and again, the same way we had it the first time. But when it’s not good, that repetition becomes a violation of the highest order. We have zero tolerance and no patience for the development of an idea. If it works, keep at it. If it doesn’t, move on and never look back. In fashion especially, shoppers are fickle, newness is a virtue, and boredom is deadly.
Thom Browne’s shrunken grey suit broke every rule. It’s ordinary and unflattering. It’s expensive and hard to pull off. And yet, it’s brilliant and beautiful and we simply cannot get enough of it. The first time I encountered that suit in real life was about 20 years ago, near Thom’s Chelsea studio around lunchtime. I saw a team of his young staffers walking across 10th Avenue wearing the uniform: grey suit, white shirt, tie tucked into the waistband, black wingtips, socks and ankles for days. I was stunned. Ever since, I’ve had utmost respect for Thom Browne and wasn’t at all surprised when he sold 85% of his brand to Zegna for $500 million in 2018. I’d witnessed the power his brand holds over people. Plenty has been written about that power, including in this great New Yorker piece, so that’s not what I’m here to unpack.
What’s interesting to me is, considering the massive success of the business, how people perceive Thom Browne. Since my encounter with Thom’s minions in Chelsea, the cult of Thom Browne has gone global, with more than 100 stores and a powerhouse roster of megacelebrity cosigners that includes LeBron James, Michelle Obama, Lady Gaga, Serena Williams, Janet Jackson, Jaden Smith, and on and on. And while the design universe of Thom Browne has expanded dramatically to include wild theatrics and couture tailoring, the overall Browne aesthetic hasn’t changed. The uniform remains the same.
Then, this week, the unthinkable happened. One of the most polarizing pop stars on the planet was spotted wearing a Thom Browne set in New York City. Shockingly, the ruckus surrounding the outfit had nothing to do with the fact that she was also wearing Gucci shoes — a blasphemous cross-brand disharmony on par with wearing Adidas sneakers and Nike socks. Rather, the chatter suggested that T-Swift had indirectly inflicted some sort of reputational damage on the Thom Browne brand. Much of the discourse seemed to be propelled by the simple notion that the outfit was ugly — a quick search led me to this downright unhinged Reddit thread of pure, unadulterated hate. “That is the single ugliest fit I've ever seen on a person,” wrote one commenter. LOL. OK, relax. “She is not Thom Browne material,” wrote another.
From what I gather, hating on Taylor’s style is par for the course. She’s not known for her fashion sense. But beyond that, there seems to be some hand-wringing about what this means for Thom Browne. Which: I get it. I wrote a whole thing about how we ruin good brands. I assume we’ve all had that experience of seeing someone easily identifiable as a herb wearing a brand you love, which leaves you second-guessing everything you thought you knew about yourself. The question here isn’t what this means for Thom Browne; it’s what this means for the Thom Browne cult followers who have built their personalities around grey Super 120s wool and a strip of RWB grosgrain. Can one catastrophic outfit change the way you feel about a brand you love?
The answer has to be no. We, as outfit enthusiasts, need to fortify ourselves against this exact kind of personal attack. Every good brand will inevitably have some lame fans, some who can’t pull it off, or who doesn’t wear it the right way. (Especially if your favorite brand is a billion-dollar global business.) Don’t give up or turn your back on a brand you believe in because of what someone else wore. That makes you the victim. Maybe you need to hang up the tweed and gingham asymmetric mini skirt for a season. Let it cool off. (If it was me, I might burn it. But you don’t have to take it that far.) Your style isn’t the collection of garments and brands in your closet. It’s how you wear them. (Duh.)
Thom Browne built an unsinkable brand. Others might fall more easily to an uncomfortable celebrity endorsement, or popularity amongst an unsavory clientele. Art can be like this, too. Infinite Jest may be a great book, but have you ever met someone who likes it enough to talk to you about it at a bar? We can't shape our tastes around the perceptions of others. And we can’t draw conclusions about brands based on a single outfit.
Yesterday, a kid on a Citibike rode past me wearing Off-White Converse, a Kith racing jacket, and a Supreme hat. Wow, I thought, he really loves brands. A weaker man might have felt self-conscious about being seen so haphazardly branded. But he pedaled by with all of the confidence of T-Swift walking into The Corner Store. He looked like a clown, but I was happy for him.
