Brady Williams of Tomo | James Beard Award-Winning Chef x RADMOR

Some relationships have a way of circling back.

I first met Brady Williams years ago in New York, when he was working alongside my friend Carlo Mirarchi at Blanca and Roberta's, restaurants that helped reshape the city's dining culture and became destinations for an entire generation of people interested in food, design and what restaurants could become.

At the time, I was still deeply immersed in the fashion world. RADMOR didn't exist, and neither of us could have imagined that years later we would both find ourselves in the Pacific Northwest, eventually collaborating on something involving golf, Bauhaus design, the Masters and a pimento cheese sandwich.

Life has a funny way of connecting the dots.

Brady's journey eventually brought him west, where his cooking continued to evolve and earn national recognition. As executive chef at Canlis in Seattle, he received one of the culinary world's highest honors, winning the 2019 James Beard Award for Best Chef: Northwest. He later opened Tomo in White Center, creating a restaurant that felt distinctly his own and reflected the same qualities we had long admired in his work: exceptional ingredients, curiosity, restraint and an understanding that simplicity, when done well, can be extraordinarily difficult.

What we admire most about Brady, however, isn't the résumé or the accolades.

It's the way he thinks.

There is an intentionality to his approach that extends well beyond cooking. Ingredients have a reason for being there. Details matter. Nothing feels added simply to attract attention.

In a world increasingly interested in more, Brady has always seemed comfortable asking whether less might actually be better.

We understand that instinct.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF CRAFT

Fashion and food might seem like very different disciplines, but spend enough time around people who care deeply about either and the similarities become difficult to ignore.

Both begin with materials. Both require an understanding of proportion, texture and balance. Both depend on countless decisions most people will never consciously notice. And in both, the final result should somehow feel simpler than the work required to create it.

Perhaps that's why reconnecting with Brady years later felt so natural.

At RADMOR, we've always believed that a great garment begins long before someone puts it on. It begins with the fiber, the fabric, the weight, the hand, the construction and hundreds of small decisions that ultimately determine how something feels.

A chef works much the same way.

The ingredient comes first, followed by technique, judgment and restraint. The best practitioners in either discipline understand that creativity isn't always about adding something new.

Sometimes it's about seeing something familiar more clearly.

AUGUSTA, BAUHAUS AND PIMENTO CHEESE

When we began thinking about our Masters collection, we found ourselves drawn to the traditions surrounding the tournament as much as the golf itself.

Augusta is full of them. Azaleas, green jackets, Magnolia Lane, Amen Corner and, of course, the pimento cheese sandwich.

There may be no food in golf more recognizable.

Simple, inexpensive and almost defiantly unchanged, it has become as much a part of Masters week as many of the traditions found on the golf course itself.

For the collection, we were exploring Augusta through a different visual language, bringing together the geometry and restraint of Bauhaus design with the colors, symbols and traditions of one of golf's most recognizable weeks.

It made us wonder what that same exercise might look like through food.

So, years after first meeting in New York, I called Brady.

The idea wasn't to reinvent the pimento cheese sandwich. It was to respect it enough to look at every detail again.

Brady approached it exactly as we hoped he would, considering the ingredients, balance, texture and heat while preserving the essential familiarity of the original.

You still knew exactly what you were eating.

It was still pimento cheese.

It was simply seen through a different lens.

In many ways, that became the idea behind the entire collaboration: tradition doesn't always need to be disrupted. Sometimes it simply deserves to be reconsidered.

THE MASTERS, REINTERPRETED

There is something interesting about bringing together a Seattle golf brand, a chef from White Center, a German design movement born more than a century ago, and a sandwich synonymous with Augusta, Georgia.

On paper, none of it should necessarily belong together.

Somehow, it did.

Perhaps because underneath all of those influences was the same idea: respect the original, understand why it works, and then find your own way into the conversation.

Our Masters-inspired collection used Bauhaus geometry and Augusta references to explore the visual traditions surrounding the tournament without simply reproducing them.

Brady did much the same thing with the sandwich.

Different disciplines.

Same exercise.

The result was something familiar without feeling nostalgic, and new without needing to announce itself as such.

That's the kind of collaboration we love.

BEYOND THE TABLE

What makes Brady particularly interesting to us is that his perspective extends well beyond the kitchen.

Food, design, agriculture, sustainability and community are all connected in the way he thinks about his work. Tomo has always felt less like an exercise in fine dining and more like an exploration of how a restaurant can belong to the place around it.

That idea resonates deeply with us.

RADMOR was born in the Pacific Northwest because this is where our own lives eventually brought us back. The landscape, the weather, the golf, the food and the people here continue to influence the way we think about what we make.

Brady is part of that same creative community.

We happen to make clothes.

He happens to make dinner.

Occasionally, we find an excuse to meet somewhere in the middle.

The Masters gave us a particularly good one.

What began with a conversation about golf, design and one very famous sandwich became something larger: a reminder that the most interesting collaborations aren't necessarily between people who do the same thing.

They're between people who see things in a similar way.

We admire Brady for his talent, certainly, but even more for the thoughtfulness behind it.

For knowing when to push.

When to refine.

And when something is already good enough that the smartest thing you can do is simply make it a little better.

Chef. Craftsman. Collaborator. Golfer. Friend.

Citizen of the Game.