The sun had already dipped behind the Palais Royal by the time guests began to arrive at Le Grand Véfour—that gilded little pocket of Paris that has served thinkers and revolutionaries and the kinds of people who leave impressions without making noise. On June 30th, though, it belonged to Thom Browne and his Summer Curriculum: a new kind of uniform for a summer that hasn’t happened yet.

It wasn’t a show in the traditional sense. There was no runway, no dramatic spectacle. Just a linen-draped table, a stillness in the air, and faces lit by flickering candlelight and maybe some quiet expectation. Thom doesn’t do chaos; he does construction. And that’s exactly what this evening was—another carefully considered addition to the slow architecture of his world.

Around the room, Maggie Rogers, Jack Innanen, Myha’la, Kemio, Lucky Blue Smith, Miyako Bellizzi, and Jarred Vanderbilt shared wine and glances. Content creators brushed shoulders with curators and stylists, a gentle clash of timelines, each person embodying a version of the uniform. There was an ease to it. Crisp oxfords layered with piqué polos. Lightweight knitwear in shades that sounded like dessert: lemon, sky, sorbet, ink.

This is the thing with Browne: the message is always there if you’re willing to look closely. Tailoring, sharp and deliberate, paired with playfully proper accessories. Seersucker anchored the softness, while varsity-striped socks winked beneath the tablecloths. Even the most structured jacket seemed to understand the need to loosen its grip.

There’s a quiet joy in watching the rules bend slightly. In seeing color creep into a world that once insisted on grayscale. The Summer Curriculum isn’t about starting over. It’s about refining what already works, stretching the code just enough to let some personality show through. Thom’s not abandoning the uniform—he’s rethinking its tone.

By the time dessert came, the lesson had already landed. This wasn’t about nostalgia, nor novelty. Just something honest and, maybe, kind. A uniform not built to contain you, but to remind you that order doesn’t have to mean constraint. Sometimes, it’s just a way of holding things gently in place.

Class dismissed. But you’ll want to stay after anyway.