“Hey, maestro”

That’s how he greets me.

I’ve never been called that before, and although I’m sure it’s meant with a touch of a humor, my insecurity doesn’t allow me to accept it.

I reply with “Yo!” Proof of receipt without confirmation.

The maestro, me in the case, then proves his mastery of professionalism by no-showing to the Ranra studio for two to three seasons in a row. I forgot, or got too busy, or too stressed. I wanted to go, and to this day I still have not visited. I’ll try again in January.

The maestro, me in this case, shows up to a rented apartment somewhere in Copenhagen to start this photo series you see above. I arrive and realize immediately that in my mastery of my trade, I did not bother to realize that the brand Ranra, previously known eponymously as “Arnar Már Jónsson” is not just one person. It’s two. Like a good little American, I read the headlines and left the body of the text for later. Just like at the University of Washington, this tactic bites me in the butt, as I enter and meet Arnar AND Luke…and must spend the next hour pretending that I of course knew all along about the duo.

In my mind I already had made the decision of a Context story on Arnar…and I am stubborn. And here we are. Luke is in the images as well, but my one-track-mind didn’t allow me to sway from the plan. I’m sorry, Luke.

I like what these guys do. I have worked in fashion for a long time now, and I don’t pay attention to many brands anymore. It’s not a lack of interest, but a result of too much stimulation, and too much garbage being marketed well enough to trick me into thinking it’s good and then finding out swiftly that it’s not. For most of the brands that I like the most, most of the pieces are not fitting into my way of dressing, and I almost prefer to find these brands, as aside from a few pieces, I can only watch the brand from afar. It’s almost more fun this way, as the thrill does not wear off as the pieces don’t lose their novelty the moment that they are hung up in your closet.

Over the span of a year, I shot backstage at two Ranra shows in Copenhagen in addition to the photos at the apartment. There was no PR request involved, no press accreditation, no QR codes. I DM’d a “Yo” and got a “Hey, maestro” and was able to drop by. I watched Arnar and Luke being nervous. I watched them being quiet. I watched them preparing and serving arriving guests a rhubarb drink that they had made in line with the collection’s title of “Rhubarb” that season.

Hanging out backstage at a show, you often see people’s worst traits come out. The stress causes people to become irritated very easily. You see designers yelling. Hair artists wondering (at the top of their lungs) where “Marcus” is.” Make-up artists giving the photographers glares you wouldn’t wish on your worst ex-girlfriend.

Being with these guys in the hours and minutes leading up to their big moment each season, the status of maestro/maestri lays upon them. The mood feels safe, and the clothes speak for themselves. Soft light fills the room from the side at one show, and from above at the next, giving shape to the subtleties of garments that are the culmination of months of hard work.

The ensuing show is just the thesis paragraph.

The maestro, Arnar in this case, is about to be a dad for the third time over. I hope that this story finds him in the delivery room, and that he can read a story about a silly presentation of his own creations, while he holds in his arms another form of his own creation.

Thanks, Arnar (and Luke),