Colbo Chats: Meet the Makers with Rus

Photography and video  by Peter Sherno  in Paris.

RUS began with two sisters in Galicia, Spain, and a simple conviction, rooted in a vision for a better future: garments should be chosen and curated, not just consumed. Their pieces are made to last and meant to be rediscovered season after season, so getting dressed becomes a ritual one builds, one layer at a time. According to this approach, the possibilities are endless. 

That idea runs through everything RUS makes. Working together in an intuitive manner that only siblings can, the sisters draw on the fluidity of nature and the landscape of the Spanish coast; its colors and shapes, and on the way art, architecture, and design capture fleeting moments of beauty. The result is tactile clothing that feels as good to the touch as it looks.

As the latest batch of RUS arrives at Colbo, we spoke with the sisters about growing up between two sensibilities, designing against the pull of the trend cycle, and what it means to make something worth keeping.

1. Galicia is known as a site of spiritual pilgrimage, Roman art and  architecture, and naturally rich, lush coastlines. How does the landscape,  architecture, or history of the place factor into your practice? 

We live in A Coruña, in the northwest of Spain, a city by the Atlantic Ocean  where life moves a little slower and the food is amazing. It's nature and lifestyle,  usually calm, but also very lively, warm people. We also live with the wind and the strength of the ocean. Living by the sea shapes how connected we feel to  the world; sometimes it really feels like you're at the edge of it, finisterrae. We're not religious, but we understand how a pilgrimage through the north of Spain can soothe the soul. 

2. Sisterhood is a very special bond. Can you speak a bit about your  creative and working dynamic as sisters? 

I'm the one with the creative background, so I take care of coming up with our  concepts and designs, but my sister Inés is my sounding board, her opinion is  essential, once something gets stuck in my head, it can be pretty hard to shift,  

so her perspective helps me see things differently, especially when I'm too close to an idea to be objective about it anymore. She's in the studio helping me make final selections on fabrics or silhouettes, and I trust her instinct completely. 

There's a kind of bond between us that comes from growing up  together; I don't have to explain the full context of something for her to understand what I'm actually asking. And because we've known each other our  whole lives, she can be honest with me in a way that would take years to build with anyone else, she'll tell me straight if something isn't working, without it  turning into a whole thing. That honesty, and the trust behind it, is probably the  real foundation of how we work together. 

3. Each of your collections seems to build upon the last, exploring  different aspects of the body and the mind in relation to dressing. How do  you view this process of evolution? Is there anything you're looking toward  as a continuation of this? 

Before starting building RUS, I worked for big brands and was absolutely burnt  out and saturated by the quantity and the disparate products we made. So  going into our own project, it was obvious I wanted to do the opposite: turn  inward, think about what I feel emotional about: color, shape, texture. I feel  clothing is such a communicative tool. That's why it makes sense to keep  building on our own vocabulary; it's a way of saying nothing is discarded,  everything is still relevant (or that's the aim), but the collections evolve, the  same way we evolve as people. 

4. A lot of your brand centers around dressing as a ritual. Can you speak a  bit about what you mean by this and the role of ritual in your brand? 

I think this comes from something we both deeply value, those rituals that make you feel at ease, the little things that are emotional. When we started the brand,  I was obsessed with the idea of ritual: yes, the ritual of getting dressed, but  also on a more mystical level, even something that can look performative but  transcends into beauty and emotion. I've always dressed, and thought about dressing, in layers, so this was an obvious connection. When we get dressed for  ourselves, we're getting ready to face the world — and that's the biggest tool of  communication we have. 

5. How do you navigate the push and pull between craft, in terms of  fashion and making, and design in an artistic, architectural sense? 

Even though we feel deeply inspired by art, we're quite pragmatic. I've always  been mindful of wearability and of the possibilities and limitations of  production. So while I wouldn't call it a utilitarian wardrobe, it is a wearable one.  Clothes shouldn't impose on the wearer. I believe a piece of clothing can  change how you feel, your posture, your movements, but it should never make  you feel like you're not yourself. As for craft and experimentation, I love  spending time in the factory, developing new fabrics — that's when the magic  happens, somewhere between asking for something that only exists in your  mind and knowing the limitations. I think that's really the essence of knitwear  for us. 

6. Your approach to sustainability feels remarkably thoughtful and  intentional. How do you navigate sustainability in a world where it can  often feel like more of a fleeting trend than a constant practice? 

Our approach to sustainability, again, comes down to lifestyle. Our motto has  been "selecting rather than accumulating" since the beginning. If you choose  carefully the pieces that speak to you and keep building a wardrobe that feels like your own, clothes don't become disposable goods. Local production has  always been a pillar of our philosophy. There's more than enough clothing in the  world already, so how can we make a difference? We work with manufacturers  across Galicia, Cataluña, and Portugal, and for us it's about spending real time  with them, understanding their needs and their craft, not just placing orders.  Keeping that local, regional manufacturing alive is a way to keep culture alive:  the culture of making. 

7. What's on your mind or mood board as of late? 

I'm quite obsessed with the work of photographer Ishiuchi Miyako, and her  exploration of the emotional weight of objects and images as traces of life. We're traveling to Japan in a week, and I keep thinking about how her way of looking at worn things (skin, scars, old clothes) is connected with what we’re  trying to do: honoring the marks a piece carries, the years it lives through.