Our Story

Lucan never set out to build a fashion company. He set out to make something that could survive saltwater, sun, and time.

He grew up moving between places that leave a mark—coastlines, mountains, old rooms full of books, long roads where you learn to sit with your thoughts. His early life wasn't defined by trend or spectacle, but by repetition and detail: how fabric feels after hours in the ocean, how color fades when it's honest, how objects carry memory when they're made well. He paid attention to things most people pass over.

Truncs began quietly, almost accidentally. What started as a personal pursuit—designing a swimsuit that fit properly, aged beautifully, and didn't announce itself—became a small run of pieces shared among friends. The response wasn't loud, but it was immediate. People noticed the difference. The cut. The weight. The restraint. The fact that nothing felt rushed.

From the beginning, Lucan resisted the idea of fashion as noise. He believed clothing should hold its ground without explanation. That belief became the backbone of Truncs.

As the brand grew beyond swimwear, the philosophy stayed intact. Expansion wasn't about categories—it was about standards. Each new piece earned its place through material, function, and longevity. Truncs evolved into a specialized luxury house not by chasing scale, but by refusing compromise. Production remained deliberate. Design decisions were slow. Collections were built, not released.

Lucan remained deeply involved in every stage of the process—from sourcing to fit to the final details most people never see. His background outside of fashion shaped the way he worked: the discipline of physical effort, the patience of studio work, the clarity found in solitude. Truncs became a reflection of that balance—strength without excess, elegance without fragility.

Today, Truncs is global, but it doesn't behave like a global brand. It doesn't explain itself. It doesn't follow cycles. It exists for people who recognize quality instinctively and wear their lives into their clothes.

Lucan still approaches the work the same way he did at the beginning—measured, observant, and unwilling to make anything he wouldn't keep himself. For him, Truncs isn't about image. It's about permanence.

And permanence, he believes, is the rarest form of luxury.