As Dúas Marías

In the heart of Santiago de Compostela, two sisters once turned heads not with grandeur, but with defiance wrapped in color. Maruxa and Coralia Fandiño Ricart—known locally as As Dúas Marías—were daughters of artisans, raised in a working-class Galician household of thirteen children. Their lives, marked by war, repression, and grief, unfolded under the shadow of Francoist Spain. Yet each day at exactly two o'clock, the sisters would emerge arm in arm, dressed in flamboyant homemade outfits, turning the city’s gray afternoons into a burst of vivid resistance.

Their strolls were not mere eccentricities. After their brothers—political activists in the anarchist CNT—were forced into hiding or exile, the sisters and their family became targets. Tortured, humiliated, and abandoned by clients afraid of guilt by association, Maruxa and Coralia survived thanks to discreet community support. Their midday ritual became an act of subtle rebellion—flirting with university students, answering mockery with wit, and reclaiming public space through presence. In their resilience, they carved out a rare form of agency in a regime that had stripped them of nearly everything.

Today, in the lush Alameda Park, visitors are greeted by a life-size, polychrome statue of the sisters. Sculpted by César Lombera in 1994, it captures their iconic pose—Maruxa with a mischievous wink, Coralia grasping an umbrella. Tourists often stop for photos, unaware that they’re posing beside symbols of civil resistance disguised in lipstick and hand-stitched skirts.

For locals, the statue is more than a quirky landmark. It’s a reminder that memory survives not only in monuments but in everyday acts of courage. Las Dos Marías remain woven into the city’s soul—fierce, fabulous, and forever walking together through the streets of Santiago.