The Park Avenue Armory, with its wood-paneled rooms and stuffed deer heads, was a perfectly masculine venue for Thom Browne’s fall show, another play on male dress codes. Provocatively, models idled into each salon smirking at the audience. Perhaps it was hard to keep a straight face with scarves tied around their heads, à la Little Edie, or with raccoon tails dangling at their feet in a kind of train, or carrying gym bags the size of a small house. Still, standouts abounded, among them cable-knit cardies, sunglasses (a first for Browne) and luxurious, un-exaggerated coats, some with fur trim, that every hedge-fund master of the universe should pre-order now.