I’ve always been drawn to the same colors- blues, soft greens, muted pinks, and lavenders.
Over time, I started to notice that it wasn’t just in what I wear. It shows up everywhere. In the way I design my home. The garden I’ve slowly built. And ultimately, in the pieces we create at Baybala.
It feels less like having a “style” and more like living within a certain feeling. Something that carries through everything.
I think about this often when I’m in my parents’ home, which once belonged to my grandparents.
It’s a house that has been passed down and layered over time, but it still holds onto its original character. When I’m there, I don’t just see memories. I see inspiration.
The way rooms were put together. The colors that were chosen without overthinking. The objects that stayed, even as everything else changed.
There’s a consistency to it. A quiet point of view that was never chasing anything new.
That’s what we’ve been thinking about with Inherited Style.
The things you return to without questioning. The combinations that just feel right. The way your home, your wardrobe, and your life begin to reflect one another.
It feels especially meaningful right now, when so much is driven by trends and constant newness.
A lot of what we see, in both fashion and interiors, can start to feel fast and repeated. And while there’s always a place for inspiration, I find myself coming back to the idea of choosing things more intentionally.
Pieces that last. Colors that stay with you. Objects and clothing that feel like they belong to your life, not just a moment.
I think about this even more now as a mother.
The way I dress my daughter isn’t separate from how I live. It’s an extension of it. I’m drawn to the same tones, the same softness, the same sense of ease.
Not because we’re matching, but because it all comes from the same place.
And without realizing it, I know she’ll carry some of that forward too.
When we design at Baybala, this is always in the background.
We think about pieces that can be layered, reworn, and lived in. Pieces that don’t feel tied to a single moment, but instead become part of a rhythm. Something you come back to again and again.
Less about perfect outfits, more about building something that evolves over time.
Maybe that’s what inherited style really is.
Not something you’re taught directly, but something you absorb through spaces, through memory, and through the people who came before you.
And then, without even realizing it, you begin to pass it on.
