It was silent, it was an ode, and it was everything that he would’ve brought him joy and child like splendor. Having the news of the venerated New York Times photographer Bill Cunningham a day before, Browne himself asked for a moment of silence.

It was a Trompe-l’œil, the gradual unfolding of uniformity, in all its 50 shades of grey, one by one the models made their way onto the island. Facing the audience, after a few fleeting seconds, the models were stripped off of their grey suits, and what appeared were sorbet pieces, of short suits, tailcoats, and vibrant jackets that were outlined on the rims all through the lapels.

As the show progressed, so did the ongoing illusion of the Americana beach. How was that portrayed? Flapping their wings around, in seagull, and parrot headpieces, a select few fluttered around the models, and awhile that – they were stripping off onto their final reveal. From a gray scale array, sorbet hued rainbows, to printed wetsuits with matching printed surfboards at each models hand; and then they were off…

If this were a movie, post cards of beach sun sets, footprints left at the seas shore, and tropical prints would be all you would see – in a more sartorial sense though.


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