Dressed for every chapter

Every detail of the RR — No.1 has a reason. A day consists of many moments — a meeting, a lunch, a long afternoon and perhaps an evening that unfolds differently than planned.

Not every reason is obvious, but each one makes a significant difference. The following sections explain why.

The High-Rise

The high-rise waist is not a new invention, but a return to something that was always there. From the early 20th century through the 1950s, the high-rise was simply the standard — the waistband sat at the natural waist, held in place by braces, falling cleanly. In the 1930s it reached its peak. sometimes cut directly below the ribs, with deep pleats and a generous rise.

What followed was not a simple decline, but a constant back and forth. The Mod-movement of the 60s deliberatly dropped the waist to the hip — slim and flat, a clear break from the silhouette of the previous generation. The 80s brought the high waist back with the power suit. The 2000s drove it to its historic low point — the waistband now sat somewhere on the hip, too low to define the waist, too arbitrary to shape anything. What was sold as casual was in truth the end of all proportions: compressed legs, a lost torso, a silhouette without a centre. High-rise became synonymous with outdated — yet the low-rise was simply worse cut. Only in recent years has the high-rise returned, carried by a generation that has rediscovered proportions and comfort.

This shift has a reason. A trouser that sits at the natural waist changes the way the upper body is carried — it gives the back a point of reference and visually lengthens the legs. Not an effect that needs to be staged. Simply a consequence of the cut.

For the RR — No.1, this was not a nostalgic dicision, but a functional and stylistic one. Anyone spending an entire day in the same trouser needs a waistband that does not shift — whether sitting, standing or anywhere in between.

The Pleats

Pleats are not a stylistic choice, but a functional. They create additional room in the upper part of the trouser — fabric that closes again when standing, keeping the silhouette clean, but gives way exactly where it is needed when sitting, walking or reaching into a pocket. A trouser that moves before you notice it.

Their origins in fashion go back shortly after the First World War. In the 1930s, pleats became the embodiment of classic elegance — worn by Hollywood icons such as Clark Gable and Cary Grant, whose fuller cuts of the era demanded them. By the late 60s they had lost their relevance, returned briefly in the 80s, and then largely faded from memory — not because they were bad, but because they were badly made. Cut incorrectly or placed on a waistband that sits to low, pleats gape instead of falling, and it is precisely this image that stuck with many.

Yet execution ist everything. Reverse pleats — folded outward, towards the pocket — are a timeless detail of tailoring. They lie flatter, cast no hard shadow at the front and create a calm, clean front panel. In combination with a high waist, they come into their own, because where fabric has room to fall, a pleat works best.

Our pleats are deliberately set deep — enough fabric beneath them to keep them closed and falling, rather than gaping. Not a detail chosen of nostaglia, but one with a real purpose.

The Side-Adjuster

There are three ways to hold a trouser at the waist — and each has its own merit.

Braces are the most comfortable solution. They carry the weight across the shoulders rather than cinching the waist, and they offer real room for individuality — color, material, character. Those who have worn them properly often miss them the most.

A well-fitted belt can in turn create a deliberate and considered break between the upper and lower body — a stylistic choice, not a last resort. Its disadvantage, however, shows itself most when sitting: the buckle digs in, the belt cuts, and precisely where you need the most comfort, it delivers the least.

The side-adjuster offers a third way — and for a trouser like this, the cleanest one. Their roots lie in the English tailoring tradition of the 1930s, when the "self-supporting trouser" was designed to make belts and braces redundant on elegant dress trousers. A short strap on each side of the waistband draws the waist evenly tighter — without weight, without buckle, without interrupting the line.

For a trouser that moves between office and evening, this is the only right decision: no belt, that digs in, no braces visible beneath the jacket. Just a clean and uninterrupted waist.

The After-Dinner-Split

The name is a small exaggeration with charm — and yet no marketing invention. The "After-Dinner-Split" is the English term for the "V d'aisance", a concept from classical french tailoring — literally "the slit of comfort". It is a small V-shaped cut at the back waistband, finished with a strong horizontal seam, and has been part of tailoring finish word for generations.

The Story behind it suggests it gives the stomach a little room after a generous meal — an explanation that is easy to remember, but only half true. The real function lies elsewhere: it allows the fabric at the waist more movement, particularly when sitting. A trouser without this detail pulls noticably tight across the back when you sit down — with it, the waistband stays relaxed, almost unnoticed.

It sits where it belongs: understated, but effective.
A detail from genuine tailoring tradition.

The Turn-Up

The turn-up has one of the most charming origin stories in tailoring. It traces back to King Edward VII, who as Prince of Wales in the 1890s was caught in the rain at Sandown Park racecourse — and rolled up his trouser legs to protect them from the mud. What began as a practical solution was soon permanently incorporated: a fixed cuff that kept the fabric from the ground. A simple gesture against bad weather became a hallmark of british tailoring.

During the golden age of menswear in the 1930s, most men wore their everyday trousers with turn-up — plain hems were, as is still partly the case today, reserved for formal occaions such as evening wear. During the Second World War, the turn-up was briefly banned by law due to fabric shortages — which gave it an almost rebellious second career after the mod, as subcultures deliberately brought it back.

Its function is thoroughly practical: the additional weight at the hem creates a clearer, sharper fall of the fabric — the cuff pulls the leg downward like a small weight, letting it fall with more clarity rather than fluttering at the ankle

Its benefit extends beyond aesthetics as well. The fabric in the cuff is not wasted material, but a quit reserve. Those who wish to wear the trouser slightly longer can open the turn-up and release the additional fabric — a degree of flexibility that a plain hem can only half match.

The Extended Waistband

There are several ways to construct a trouser waistband, and each reveals something about the tradition it comes from. The simplest solution is a centred button with a buttonhole — the standard on most trousers, functional, but unremarkably plain, and rarely the most elegant.

English tailors have traditionally favored a different solution: a hook-and-bar closure without a visible button at the front. On Savile Row, a button on the trouser front has always been considered an Italian detial, not an English one. Italien tailoring, on the other hand, often takes the opposite approach — on particularly elegant Neapolitan trousers, one occasionally finds a double tab with two buttons, a deliberately more expressive detail.

A third options, sitting between these two traditions, is the extended tab with a single off-centre button. It distributes the tension across a larger surface rather than concentrating it on a single point — the waistband stays straight without folding around the closure. At the same time, it creates a clearer appearance when the trouser is worn with braces or side adjusters, as no centred button interrupts the smooth expanse of fabric.

For the RR — No.1 the choice fell on exactly this option: one button, off-centre, on the extended tab. Understated enough not to draw attention — considered enough to make a difference when you look closely.

Dressed for every chapter

None of these details are spectacular on its own. A high waist, pleats, an extended waistband instead of a simple button — each one a small, almost unremarkable decision. Together, they amount to something greater than the sum of their parts: a trouser that needs no explanation, because It simply works.

That was the whole idea from the start. Not to impress though volume, but to convince through consistency. A trouser for the morning meeting, the lunch that follows, the evening that unfolds differently than planned — without ever having to change.

In the end, it is just a trouser. But it is a trouser that thinks ahead through every chapter of the day, so you no longer have to.

View the Collection