An exclusive conversation with Arnar Már Jónsson and Luke Stevens for Fucking Young!
Fashion often celebrates the final image. RANRA is more interested in everything that comes before it. Founded by Arnar Már Jónsson and Luke Stevens, the Reykjavík-based label has quietly built one of the most compelling design languages in contemporary fashion. Their work exists between technical innovation and emotional utility, where garments are not simply products but evolving systems shaped by landscape, weather, movement, and time.
During DesignMarch in Reykjavík, I sat down with the duo to discuss the future of technical clothing, the value of slowness in an accelerated industry, and why they believe the most radical design decisions often happen long before a garment reaches the runway.
Many brands speak about functionality, but RANRA feels less like a fashion label and more like a design methodology. At what point did you realise you were building a system rather than simply producing clothing?
It happened quite naturally. We never approached clothing as isolated objects. Every garment is influenced by a network of decisions involving materials, environments, manufacturing processes, and human behaviour. The more we explored those relationships, the more we realised the product itself was only one part of a much larger conversation.
Fashion is often obsessed with novelty. RANRA seems more interested in evolution. Do you believe the industry’s obsession with constant newness has become a creative limitation?
In many ways, yes. Innovation doesn’t always come from producing something entirely new. Often it comes from refining, questioning, and understanding existing systems more deeply. We believe there is immense value in revisiting ideas and allowing them to mature over time rather than constantly replacing them.
Technical clothing historically emerged from performance and survival. Yet your garments often feel emotional, almost poetic. Can technical garments possess humanity?
Absolutely. We would argue that the best technical products already do. People tend to separate performance and emotion, but they’re deeply connected. The clothes we wear during meaningful experiences inevitably become tied to memory. Function is not purely mechanical; it’s also psychological and emotional.
Your collections often draw from landscapes, weather systems, and environmental conditions. Is nature a source of inspiration or a collaborator in your design process?
Probably closer to a collaborator. Nature introduces variables that can’t be fully controlled, and that’s something we find valuable. Weather, terrain, and natural processes constantly challenge assumptions. They encourage us to think beyond aesthetics and consider how products actually behave in the real world.
The fashion industry increasingly discusses sustainability, but much of that conversation remains focused on marketing language. What does responsibility actually look like inside your studio?
Responsibility starts with understanding consequences. Every decision creates an impact somewhere else within the system. For us, sustainability isn’t a separate department or initiative. It’s embedded within material development, manufacturing relationships, product longevity, and how we approach growth as a company.
Many younger designers today are pressured to become visible very quickly. RANRA’s growth has felt remarkably deliberate. Was resisting speed a conscious business decision?
Not initially. It was simply the pace required to make the work properly. Over time we realised that slower growth offered something valuable: clarity. It allowed us to build a stronger foundation and develop ideas without compromising them for short-term attention.
Your collaborations have ranged from footwear to broader cultural projects. What determines whether a collaboration is worth pursuing?
Curiosity more than visibility. The most successful collaborations happen when both parties genuinely want to learn from each other. We look for partnerships that challenge our thinking rather than simply expanding our audience.
In an era dominated by algorithms and digital consumption, do you think physical craftsmanship has become more important or less relevant?
More important. The digital world has increased access to information, but it has also created distance from how things are actually made. Craftsmanship reconnects people to process, materiality, and human effort. Those qualities feel increasingly valuable today.
Many brands sell a lifestyle. RANRA seems to sell something different: a perspective. Is that intentional?
Perhaps. We aren’t particularly interested in prescribing how people should live. What interests us is creating tools that adapt to different lives and environments. The goal isn’t to construct an idealised identity but to support real experiences.
If RANRA disappeared tomorrow and only one idea survived, what would you hope remains?
The belief that design is fundamentally about relationships. Relationships between people and products, materials and environments, ideas and reality. Everything we do ultimately comes back to understanding those connections more deeply.
Looking ahead ten years, what excites you most: new products, new technologies, or entirely new systems of thinking?
New systems of thinking. Products and technologies will always evolve, but the most meaningful progress happens when the underlying framework changes. We’re interested in exploring different ways of designing, producing, and engaging with the world around us.
RANRA’s significance lies not in technical specifications or seasonal trends, but in its refusal to separate utility from meaning. In a culture increasingly driven by speed, optimisation, and consumption, Arnar Már Jónsson and Luke Stevens continue to advocate for something quieter: attention.
Attention to materials. Attention to process. Attention to the invisible systems that shape how we move through the world.
Perhaps that is why RANRA feels less like a fashion brand and more like an ongoing study of contemporary life itself.
