When his football career failed to materialise, Rav Matharu made a seamless transition to another of his passions.
You may think elite football and bespoke tailoring are worlds apart and there are easier routes to Savile Row than via Elland Road. But Rav Matharu, founder of clothsurgeon, contradicts that theory.
Obsession, creativity, consistency: the ingredients are largely the same; it’s just that one shapes crosses, the other shapes cloth.
“I became obsessed with football after the 1990 World Cup,” Matharu says. “That was it. I told my mum to put my toys away. All I wanted was a football.”
He grew up in Leeds, where sport, and football especially, tends to take centre stage. His father and uncles helped form one of the UK’s earliest South Asian football teams in the 1970s. Leeds United was the backdrop to everything else.
Having shown plenty of ability, he was taken to Beeston Juniors, a Sunday league side within sight of Elland Road. “You could see the stadium from where we trained,” he says. “So the dream was always there in the background.”
That dream accelerated. Leeds City Boys, then trials at Leeds United, where he impressed enough to earn a contract, progressing through the academy during one of the club’s most glittering periods.
“Leeds were in the Champions League semi-final and second in the Premier League,” he recalls. “Rio Ferdinand, Olivier Dacourt… all those players were around the place.” But alongside football, another passion was developing.
“I was always drawing. On away trips I’d have a sketch pad. I’d sit there drawing players from Match magazine.”
At first it was players. Then it was boots, kits, fabrics. Before long, the aesthetic became more compelling than the game itself. Still, football remained the plan. Until it didn’t. When Leeds decided not to renew his contract, trials followed at Leyton Orient, York City and Hull City. There were offers, but nothing permanent.
“I’d just fallen out of love with it,” he says. “I was probably depressed, if I’m honest. The dream was disappearing.”
For a time, it seemed there was no clear replacement to football. He’s not the first to feel that sense of loss when hanging up his boots, and he won’t be the last. After a foundation course at Loughborough failed, confidence was at an all-time low.
Eventually, something else took hold. Offers arrived from London College of Fashion and Central Saint Martins, though financial reality pulled him back north. A stint in retail followed and then a degree at what is now Leeds Arts University.
By the time he returned to London, living off the sales of a carefully assembled trainer collection, something resembling a brand was already forming.
The name came at university. While cutting pattern paper with a scalpel, a tutor remarked that he worked “like a surgeon”.
“I just thought: clothsurgeon. It stuck.”
At first it was little more than a rail of experiments in a studio. Then A$AP Rocky appeared.
“This was around 2012, before he was massive.” he says of the rapper. “He picked three pieces off the rail and wore them everywhere.”
“For me, that’s the real definition of luxury,” he says. “Having something made just for you.”
One leather-sleeved sweatshirt began selling rapidly through Instagram and Facebook before the brand even had a website. The profits funded the studio, the site and the business itself. From there, growth became organic. Nike took notice of Matharu’s fusion of sportswear silhouettes and luxury fabrics. His idea of adapting Flyknit (the technology used in Nike’s running shoes) into clothing arrived years before it appeared commercially. Collaborations followed with adidas, Champion, Coca-Cola and Absolut Vodka.
While Nike fleeces were reimagined into £1,200 suits, for Coca-Cola, 1930s cotton umbrellas became tailored accessories. That unique combination between streetwear and craftsmanship, sport and luxury remains the brand’s defining characteristic.
“The intention was always to amplify British bespoke luxury through the lens of street culture,” he says. “I grew up around football, hip-hop, garage music, R&B. I wanted to bring that energy into craftsmanship.”
Savile Row provides the framework, but clothsurgeon works outside its usual rules. Production is kept deliberately restrained. Bespoke or made to order, minimal waste, complete client collaboration.
“For me, that’s the real definition of luxury,” he says. “Having something made just for you.”
The idea has found its audience. Lewis Hamilton arrived via a stylist. Drake and J Cole followed. Nas asked to be dressed backstage at the Royal Albert Hall before performing Illmatic.
“That was surreal,” he says. “Nas was someone I listened to growing up.”
Yet Matharu doesn’t have time to be starstruck. He’s already thinking about the next piece. “I’ve never wanted to make the same thing over and over again. As soon as I finish something, I’m already thinking about how to improve it.”
It seems a certain Pep Guardiola appreciated that philosophy. “He came into the store and I told him my back story. He went into manager mode and said: ‘Yeah, but look, you did it. Look what you built.’”
It may sound like a footballing assessment, but this time the stadium is Savile Row.
Rav Matharu, Founder & Creative Director of clothsurgeon, spoke to Henry Beesley.
