It’s an unusually quiet morning for Hector, much to Browne’s surprise, especially given the crowd of unfamiliar people assembled for his cover shoot. “He barks at everything,” the CFDA president says. Every morning, in fact, Browne and Bolton let Hector roam the front yard, barking to his heart’s content from the safety of his enclosure.
As I prepare to leave, Browne instructs me to stand on the street side of the wrought-iron gate so that Hector can show me his fearsome howls. He bounds out of the door, still dressed in his little sweater; centers himself on the steps in front of the brick mansion’s arched doorway; and proceeds to let it all out. But when Browne instructs Hector to come inside, the dog stays put, no end to his woofing in sight. “Come on, sweetie!” he calls after him, his voice traveling up the octave. “Hector, come on. Hector. Come on. Sweetie,” Browne says, his voice growing more terse, like a parent negotiating with a stubborn toddler. Eventually he gives up, heading back into the house and letting Hector stay outside to bark with abandon. After all, while everyone may be outfitted in Thom Browne, they’re really living in Hector’s world.
Below, Thom Browne answers Vogue’s Dogue questionnaire.
Vogue: What is your dog’s best quality?