Style is respect. For oneself, for the interlocutor, for the moment

In the spacious hall with high ceilings, soft daylight falls on mannequins adorned with luxurious, impeccably tailored suits. On the shelves lie rolls of Italian wool and English tweed, freshly sewn snow-white shirts, and a new collection of suede loafers, just delivered from Italy. The air carries a subtle blend of scents: chalk, steam from irons, wool, and coffee. The sound of scissors, the steady tap of a needle, the rustle of fabric—all evoke the rhythm of an old artisan’s workshop, where time is measured not in hours, but in the number of precise stitches.

Ramón meets me at the entrance to the workshop. Tall, well-groomed, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit of deep navy blue. His movements are confident yet without unnecessary showiness—like those of a person accustomed to quality not for display, but for himself.

— Our brand was born in 1997. It was created by my mother. Back then, everything was very intimate: a small team, no advertising, only word of mouth. To find us, you had to hear about us from someone you trusted. My mother did everything herself—welcoming clients, selecting fabrics, taking measurements. I was just a child, but I already spent time in the workshop. My father is a historical costume artist, my mother is a fashion designer. Our home was always filled with books on fashion history, old Burda magazines, spools of thread, and tailor’s patterns.

— Exactly. I grew up accustomed to classic style. I went to school in a suit, with a tie, in an overcoat and scarf. I carried a briefcase like an adult. Sometimes teachers gave me good grades just for my appearance. I think it was respect for the fact that I respected them. After school, I would come to the workshop and observe the process: how the masters bent over the fabrics, how steam rose from the iron, how chalk transformed into cutting lines. I saw how every stitch demanded attention, and how any mistake was immediately visible. This shaped my understanding of precision and responsibility.

— Yes. We have never worked on a "mass scale." This is a home you enter by referral. The atmosphere here matters—the intimacy, the trust. We know every client by name, remember their past orders, even their coffee preferences. This isn’t a formality, but part of the culture of interaction.

— It's a living organism. We have an office where meetings take place, a café where people socialize even if they don’t have orders. Sometimes a client stops by just for coffee, and a week later returns for a new suit. This is a place where relationships are built not only on service but also on a shared environment.

— Once, a client brought a photograph of his grandfather in an officer’s uniform and asked us to make a civilian-style suit but preserve the details—the buttons, the color of the lining. We searched for everything as close to the original as possible. When he put on the suit, he said, "It's as if I’m continuing his journey." Another time, a client wanted to recreate a suit from an old film. We watched the movie dozens of times to capture the nuances. It wasn’t just a whim but a desire to revive an emotion he had experienced many years ago.

— Yes, and that is a particular point of pride for me. Lidiya Mikhailovna, our trouser specialist, has been with us from the very beginning—since 1997. She tailored trousers for me when I was a teenager and continues to do so now. Only the size has changed. These people are part of our legacy. Their experience, their hands, their dedication to the craft are irreplaceable.

— Gradually. At first, I helped with small tasks, then began meeting clients, having conversations with them, and learning about their needs. One of the first orders I remember was a green suit with orange accents for a New Year’s celebration. The client said, "I always celebrate the New Year in new clothes to be open to change." That moment was a revelation to me—I realized that a suit could be part of a person’s personal philosophy, their inner ritual.

— The ideal suit is not merely about the right fabric and impeccable fit. It is an image that aligns with a person’s inner sense of self. A suit changes one’s posture, gait, even the tone of their voice. It provides confidence, becoming soft armor. But most importantly, it must be an organic extension of the person, not a mask. If someone feels like a stranger in their suit, it won’t work.

— You have to listen. Sometimes a person comes in for one model but leaves with another because together we found what truly suits them. I love it when an order is tied to a story. Once, a man brought a photograph of his grandfather in an officer’s uniform and asked us to recreate the suit in a civilian version but preserve the details. We searched for the fabric, the hardware, the shade of the lining. When he put on the suit, he said: "It's as if I’m continuing his journey." Those were powerful words, and they confirm: clothing can be a bridge between generations.

— The world is changing, and classic style must speak the language of the times. I love adding details that lend individuality: a burgundy lining, horn buttons, a lapel shape slightly wider than usual. These nuances don’t stand out blatantly, but they create uniqueness.

— I want the brand to grow, but without losing its personalized approach. Today, it’s easy to turn everything into a conveyor belt, into a mass product, but I believe that personal attention will always be valued. My goal is for every client to leave us not just with a suit, but with a new image of themselves. And for them, when they put on this suit ten years later, to remember the moment we created it.

— Style is respect for yourself and for others. If you want to change your life, start with how you enter a room. It speaks louder than any words.

— Music. I have a grand piano at home, and in the evenings, I play. It’s my way of clearing my head, stepping away from precise lines and strict forms. I also love cooking—especially Spanish dishes I remember from childhood, though I also enjoy borscht and pelmeni. I appreciate the dialogue between cultures: Spanish passion and Russian depth create a remarkable blend, something you can sense in clothing as well.

Author: Anastasia Kremleva

— Legacy is not just an archive of designs or a brand name. It is a culture of attitude toward clothing, the ability to value and preserve. A suit can last for decades if cared for. We have clients who bring back a suit after twenty years—we replace the lining, adjust the fit—and it returns to life. It’s like restoring a painting: it lives on because it is cared for.