It Takes a Village to Make Babaà's Sumptuous Knits
Marta Bahillo still remembers the first thing she sold from her knitwear label, babaà, down to the date. A woman from Norway bought a sweater on October 7, 2012, the day Bahillo launched her label from her living room.
In the ensuing decade and a half, many, many more people have bought many, many more jumpers, as well as vests, sweaters, trousers, shorts, and cardigans, from the small Spanish brand. What began solely as a line of children’s sweaters has grown to include a major womenswear collection and a small but growing menswear line of quality garments locally sourced and produced.
Bahillo has changed, too. “[When babaà started], I had my first child,” she says over Zoom from her home in Madrid. “I have four kids now, I'm in my late forties. I'm a different woman.” One thing that’s remained constant throughout the label's steady growth is the deep bonds she’s built with the network of local artisans at every step of the production process, from sheep herders to fabric dyers.
Scroll through the “making babaà” page on the brand’s website, and you’ll find a lore drop on people like Josep, the second-generation knitter running the factory that produces babaà’s clothing, to Faustino, the herder who looks after many of the sheep alongside his Spanish Mastiff.
But it wasn’t the cast of characters behind babaà that first caught my attention a few years ago; spontaneously seeing the brand’s sumptuously chunky sweater in an Instagram ad grabbed me, and Bahillo’s smart visual language kept me hooked. “The only way to translate our world is through our website and Instagram,” notes Bahillo. “I'm very conscious of the images I'm putting there.” Its most recent SS26 lookbook, styled by frequent AURALEE and Jil Sander collaborator Charlotte Collet, punches far above the small brand’s weight — layers of knits in vibrant oranges and reds layer onto cool blues or earthy browns.
Though Bahillo’s menswear offerings are small compared to its primary market of women's and childrenswear, it’s not a slight. “We have a lot of people asking for more menswear, and I want to translate our classic pieces for men, but I have to introduce people to menswear gradually,” Bahillo explains. “We're a very small team, and I want to keep going with my intuition.”
As the offerings expand, it helps that everything at babaà comes in one size — allowing anyone who knows their measurements to wear it. There is a clear sense of atmosphere, built up over years. After years of admiring babaà from afar, I recently sat down for a chat with Bahillo to learn more about how she built the brand and her strategy for incorporating more menswear into the mix.
How did you find all of these artisans and manufacturers when you started the brand?
I love people, so when I have different needs — for yarn, for anything — I don't have a problem with searching and connecting. And it becomes a network, because I don't treat people as disposable. It's the same [philosophy] with the clothes. You're investing in these relationships; it's not just transactional. Good work never comes from just one encounter.
I was thinking today about Martin Scorsese and his relationship with Leonardo DiCaprio. I like sticking to certain people because they inspire me. That's the one thing I've learned the most: I know that the connections I make, all the personal things that happen with me and my team, are going to be reflected within the energy of the brand.
Why was it essential for you to base your production in Spain?
It was essential for a very practical reason: I didn’t want to get into imports. I wanted to keep it simple, because production is never a straight line; if I want to manage it, I have to be flexible, so I found everything here. It’s the same with the factory we use. I wanted this particular factory because it works with many Japanese brands as well, so I knew they were quality and I could work with them the way I wanted.
But there was also something else I didn't fully put together at the time: My grandmother grew linen, so I knew of the textile industry here. In her area, everyone would send their wool to a particular place to be processed into blankets, so I contacted those same people and asked if they’re still making wool.
babaà mostly focuses on womenswear and childrenswear, but what’s your relationship to menswear?
Me? I love menswear. I have catalogs of COMME des GARÇONS HOMME, and they’re my favorite. I love how men dress because they wear one thing again and again — they're committed. That’s why I make knitwear: people have a connection. I have knits from my mom; I got married in a jumper. You keep that affection.
Part of what makes your work so engaging is the atmosphere that comes through your visuals. What made the stylist Charlotte Collet a good fit for your brand?
I loved her work, and knew her layering and sense of color would be brilliant for babaà, so I just emailed her. Shortly after, she came to Madrid to see friends, and we met at my messy office and agreed to work on a shoot together. And then another one. And we are already working on the next. I love working with her; she’s so fun and generous and no-nonsense.
What have you learned from running the brand for over a decade?
It's crazy to think about how things were 15 years ago. I've learned a lot about hypocrisy, but I've also learned that I do care about how I live, and that's what I give to my kids. I’ve learned so much from the business, and if it ends tomorrow, fine. I'm only doing it this way. I've always had jobs; I left home when I was 19, and I've never gone hungry. I love babaà, but I'm going to do it my way for as long as I can.
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