To see Robin onstage at The Design Summit, secure your registration here. 

Robin Alesch didn't initially set out to become one of the most consequential figures in American design. Robin, a curator, and Stephen, an architect, met designing film sets in 1990s Los Angeles—Zoolander, Practical Magic, Duplex—when a client relationship with Ben Stiller turned into a house, and the house blossomed into the couple’s award-winning architecture practice and design brand, Roman and Williams.

Twenty-plus years later, the duo is still creating worlds, albeit in a much different way: Robin and Stephen approach design as an exercise in building total environments rather than discrete rooms, an approach that has scaled into a multi-division enterprise most design principals only dream of. Yes, the firm does architecture and interiors—hotels like Estelle Manor and the Standard, buzzy restaurants like Le Coucou and Marcel, which they own and operate with Sotheby’s—but it also operates RW Guild, a retail-restaurant-gallery hybrid on Canal Street that functions as both showroom and R&D lab for Roman and Williams’s original furniture and lighting

Add Guild Gallery, launched in 2021 to represent the ceramicists and sculptors the practice spent two decades collecting and commissioning, and you have a vertically integrated cultural enterprise. Roman and Williams, then, has become shorthand for taste: the IYKYK of the interiors industry. 

Above all, Robin has played a central role in championing and sustaining time-honored traditions of making by hand—not as relics to be preserved, but as living practices that continue to evolve. Through The Guild, she has created a platform for artists and makers working in these traditions; through Roman and Williams’ furniture and lighting collections, she has supported treasured craftspeople and their specialized knowledge; and across the studio’s residential and commercial projects, she has made the work of the human hand integral to the practice. And she and Stephen continue to prioritize creative authorship and material intelligence—whether Robin is throwing pots in her ceramics studio or Stephen is hand-carving the prototype for a new chair design. "Roman and Williams’s architecture and interiors are rooted in a modern paradigm of craftsmanship and history,” Architectural Digest proclaimed 

The 2014 commission to redesign the Metropolitan Museum of Art's British Galleries—the first time the institution had outsourced that kind of project to an independent firm—marked a turning point for the practice. Robin has described becoming obsessed with the provenance of individual objects in the Met's collection, and that immersion reoriented how she thought about her own practice's output: not as interiors to be photographed, but as narrative environments built on real material history.

It's the same instinct now driving Salone's archive obsession and every luxury house's sudden interest in its own back catalog—Roman and Williams got there a decade early, and institutionally at that. Stephen Alesch has said there's "a huge amount of artifice" in modern architecture's minimalist default; Robin’s argument is that patina and layering aren't just an aesthetic preference but a self-evident retention strategy: spaces that read as though they've accrued history over decades don't age out of relevance the way trend-driven interiors do.

Her career is proof positive that a distinct point of view, maintained consistently across disciplines, can become a business asset in its own right. Roman and Williams’s expansion from production design to residential and hospitality work, then to institutional commissions, owned retail, product, hospitality, and gallery businesses, reads as an expansion of authorship rather than opportunistic diversification. Each venture rests on credibility earned through the one before it.

The lesson is not simply to add products, open a store, or launch a gallery, but to build deliberately outward from the practice’s most distinctive ideas. Robin’s career demonstrates that scale does not have to come at the expense of specificity. When managed with discipline and care, it can be the very thing that makes growth possible.

‍