The Story

On a flight to Addis Ababa, I found myself sitting beside a woman wrapped in a white Gabi. We never spoke, yet somewhere over the Mediterranean I caught myself wondering whether she might have known my grandparents. There was something about her that reminded me of my Ethiopian grandmother, and with that, my heritage.

Growing up far from Ethiopia meant inheriting the culture in bits. Sepia-toned photographs of sisters standing beneath eucalyptus trees. Jars of honey and nigella seeds. Stories about my grandfather's shop in Harar, where my mother would occasionally leave the counter unattended to sneak away for sweets.

Often, when he returned home from work for supper, my grandfather would call one of his eleven children over and feed them a bite of ‘injera’ by hand. This small act of endearment – feeding another person ‘injera’ in this way – is called ‘gursha’.

My grandmother, meanwhile, loved to indulge in town gossip during weekly coffee ceremonies. I picture the women gathered on mattresses and cushions spread across the floor, incense curling through the room, their white Gabis wrapped tightly around their shoulders.

Like all Ethiopian newborns, my mother and her siblings were swaddled in a Gabi and tied securely to my grandmother’s back as she went about her day.

Looking back, this early fascination with the Gabi was the beginning of something much larger. Addis was alive with warm spices, the aroma of burning wood, and honest craftmanship.

Small shops and cafes overflowed with life, and amidst the crowds, camaraderie flourished. The Ethiopian aesthetic, for me, reflects tradition, spirituality, and natural beauty. The handwoven cotton fabrics are often left in their natural off-white or bleached white color, with pops of color.

At the same time there are contemporary influences at play. This dialogue is visible in Ethiopia's architecture, particularly in Addis Ababa, where Italian modernism exists alongside traditional Ethiopian forms. Rather than competing, they seem to deepen one another.

It’s this blend of old and new that inspires me, and I like to bring that balance into GABI. Travels abroad, experiences and encounters with different cultures have shaped my perception of quality and design. I take a lot of inspiration from this to innovate and experiment, but at the heart of it all remains preserving a connection to the past and to the elegant simplicity of the Gabi.

With GABI, Ethiopian textiles, rituals and everyday life are reimagined into thoughtful pieces made close to home — pieces that belong just as naturally in contemporary wardrobes.