It is fall on the Tibetan Plateau, where vast windswept grasslands are speckled with blue Himalayan poppies—some of the year’s last blooms before the snow arrives. Ensconced among rolling hills at 3,200 meters is the nomadic settlement of Ritoma Village. Its population of 1,500 is outnumbered almost 10:1 by the yaks grazing nearby. These gentle, oxlike creatures, with their kind faces and long fringed coats, are so sacred that locals call them “nor,” or “jewel.”
It takes a four-hour drive from Lanzhou, the capital of China’s Gansu province, to reach Ritoma, traversing winding roads and tunnels that carve through mountains. But this remote village is where Norlha, a luxury brand specializing in ready-to-wear and interior products crafted from khullu—the fluffy down that the yak grows to keep warm through the harsh winters—has its headquarters.
Warm, earthy tones are a Norlha signature. While yaks typically have dark brown coats, some are gray, and the rarest of all are golden brown or white. The designs in these shades use natural, undyed fibers. A hand-knitted vest top in pure white khullu is a standout piece, while neck warmers in vibrant orange or dandelion yellow add a pop of color, inspired by Plateau women’s flair for bright accents.
Nomads Karmo Tso and Kathap Tso herd yaks across the plateau shortly after sunrise.
Photo: Liam Freeman
The atelier, where the shuttles of weaving looms clatter rhythmically, is Norlha’s beating heart. The building, in traditional Tibetan style, surrounds a courtyard, but with large windows to flood the space with natural light. Just as the architecture has evolved, so too have the production methods. “Many ancient skills struggle to survive modern life because they are intricate and specialized but have not been reinterpreted for today’s market,” Kim explains. “We use 18th-century flying shuttle looms that Britain sent to India after automated looms emerged.” This machinery, she says with a smile, is “modern” compared to its predecessor, which required passing the shuttle by hand across the weft.
Ritoma’s proximity to Labrang—a major Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) monastery in Tibetan Buddhism—was a significant attraction. “While some monasteries feel like relics, Labrang is vibrant and still has a deep cultural influence,” Dechen says. A lama guides me through Labrang’s temples and the Institute of Medicine—one of six tratsang (monastic colleges). Shoes are scattered outside the Grand Sutra Hall, and inside, the chanting of hundreds of lamas resonates through the space. There is a museum dedicated to intricate yak butter sculptures of Buddhist deities in dazzling colors, and along the monastery’s periphery, worshippers walk the inner kora—the world’s longest path of prayer wheels at 3.5 kilometers.
The lamas’ burgundy and fuchsia robes have inspired the hues of Norlha’s naturally pleated khullu silk scarves. The Plateau is an endless source of inspiration for the Yeshis, though references remain subtle—even more literal designs like the unisex Tibetan shirt, with its kimono sleeves, mandarin collar, and knotted buttons, have a timelessness and neutral quality. “We never want the wearer to feel they are borrowing from another culture or wearing something too traditional,” Dechen says. “It is about celebrating the khullu through simple, classic designs where people feel comforta