Part One

About MamaQuilla

MamaQuilla is a slow textile brand rooted in cultural connection, ancestral craftsmanship, and intentional living. Working alongside weaving communities in Latin America, we circulate and co-create garments and textiles that carry stories, memory, and human connection. Each piece is an invitation to wear something meaningful, honoring the hands, the traditions, and the territories behind what we wear.

We are not a luxury brand in the usual sense, and we are not fast fashion. If luxury is being redefined as slow, ethical, and relational, then that is where we belong. We think of ourselves as a relational textile house, and as something closer to a cooperative of cooperatives: a living network where each community keeps its own name, voice, and integrity.

Textiles as vessels of story, memory, and relationship.

The world of MamaQuilla — textiles, hands at the loom, a moment of community

The spirit behind our name

A landscape of the Andes, a moon, a quiet detail

MamaQuilla takes its name from Mama Quilla, the Incan goddess of the moon, time, and womanhood in the Quechua tradition. Because our brand was born in Peru, in the heart of the Andes, it felt essential to honor the land where the first seed of this vision was planted.

For us, the name is a way of remembering where we come from. It is a reminder that behind every creation there is a territory, a lineage, a story, and the women who carry it forward.

Women have always been at the center of textile traditions around the world. They are the weavers of our world, the ones who gather threads, preserve knowledge, transmit memory, and sustain life itself. MamaQuilla was born as an homage to these women: to the hands that weave, the cultures that endure, and the invisible threads that connect us all.

Women weaving, hands gathering threads

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Part Two · In her own words

About the Founder

The women who raised me

I come from a line of women who loved cloth. My grandmothers, my aunties, my mother, each had her own style, her own sense of color and texture and design. They taught me, long before I knew it, that what we wear is a language.

What stood out with my mother was her care for the cloth itself. For as long as I can remember she chose fabrics that were high in quality, soft, and made with care for the earth. I did not have a name for it then, but the values I now build MamaQuilla on, natural fibers, things made well and made to last, were already in our home. They came to me through her.

A portrait of Cat-Vi, or her hands weaving

Where I come from

My roots reach across the world. My mother left Vietnam by sea, one of the boat people, and reached a refugee camp in the Philippines before she found safety in Switzerland. My father grew up in Kingston, Jamaica. I was raised in Geneva, surrounded by languages, cultures, and ways of seeing the world, with education and travel but not financial abundance.

That upbringing taught me to feel at home among differences, and to help others feel safe and at ease. Much later, I would understand that weaving had become a way of gathering the threads of my own story, the many roots inside me, into something whole.

A vision in a museum

A few years ago, my family and I organized a trip together to Vietnam, a kind of return to our roots, walking the land our family comes from. One day, in a museum in Pleiku, I entered a room of traditional clothing worn by Vietnam's Indigenous communities, and something opened in me. I saw my aunties, my mother, my cousins, and myself, weaving together on looms high in the mountains. In that moment something ancient woke, a pull toward craft, toward ancestry, toward the women who carry these traditions.

It was a return to our roots in more ways than one. For my family, it was the land of our ancestors, where we come from. For me, it became something more: a way back to myself, and to what I have come to feel is the essence of life, weaving.

When I came home, I found a teacher, bought a loom, and made a quiet decision: that my life would follow the thread of weaving.

Cat-Vi at a loom, or the early days of learning

The call I followed

For a few years I worked as a primary school teacher in Switzerland, and I loved it. But there was a calling I could not ignore, a pull to go and meet the weavers of Latin America and to learn from them directly. So that is what I set out to do. When I left, my intention was simply to learn how to weave alongside Indigenous women.

I never imagined it would lead to building anything like a brand. I knew nothing about that world. MamaQuilla was not a plan I carried with me. It grew, slowly, out of the relationships I found along the way.

The years that followed

That thread led me across Latin America. Between 2024 and 2025 I lived for long stretches with Indigenous families in Peru, Mexico, Guatemala, and Brazil, sitting for hours beside women at the loom, learning through presence rather than theory. In Chinchero I lived a month with Norberta and her family, and it was there that the first collection, and MamaQuilla itself, began.

In each place I learned something I could not have learned from a distance. From the women of Oaxaca, the patience of spinning cotton by hand. From Oralia and Amparo in Guatemala, the strength it takes to build something that lasts. These women have been my teachers.

Cat-Vi with the communities, weaving alongside the women

Still becoming

I want to be honest about where I stand. I came to this not as a businesswoman but as a woman, a weaver, and a traveler. I am new to much of this, and I have learned, and changed my mind, and grown as I have gone. The collections themselves carry the marks of that journey: my understanding of fibers, of dyeing, of what it means to work well with a community, has deepened with each one. I do not think this is a weakness. Like the women I work with, and like the cloth itself, I am still becoming.

What weaving has given me

Weaving has changed my life in every way. It gave me a sense of purpose and a direction, and it opened me to so much, inside myself and beyond myself. Following this thread brought me back to the essence of life, and to womanhood. It is how I have come to understand who I am, where I come from, and how everything is, in the end, connected.

A bridge, not the center

One last thing. MamaQuilla is not about me. I am a bridge, and the brand is built around the communities and the textiles, not around my image. That is why this is the only part of the site that speaks in my voice. Everywhere else, the story belongs to the women whose hands make the work.

If you would like to follow my own path more closely, my travels, my weaving practice, and the honest stories behind the brand, you are welcome to.

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Part Three

Why We Exist

Norberta at the loom — the hours, the skill, the patience

Living and weaving beside Norberta and her family in Chinchero, I came to understand, through my own hands, how much a single handwoven piece asks of the woman who makes it: the hours, the skill, the patience, and the physical effort it demands of the body. A single piece can take weeks. A larger or more intricate one, months.

In the markets of Cusco, and across Peru more widely, I saw something that did not match. Textiles sold as handmade were offered at prices no genuine handwoven piece could sustain. A great deal of what is presented as artisan craft in tourist markets is, in truth, industrially produced and sold under the appearance of authenticity.

This imitation erodes the value of genuine craft, until even the most accomplished weavers struggle to sustain their work. Norberta is a master weaver, recognized within her community and beyond it. Yet to provide for her children and grandchildren, she keeps factory-made pieces at the front of her shop, because those are the pieces that sell, while her own work, which carries generations of knowledge, remains in the back. This is not a failing on her part. It is the condition that fast fashion has produced, in which time is no longer valued and quantity has displaced quality.

MamaQuilla was born of this recognition, and of the decision that followed. Growing up in Switzerland gave me access that these women were never given: education, mobility, the freedom to move between worlds. I have come to see that privilege as a responsibility. I could not change the market as a whole, but I could place my access in the service of others. My role is not to speak on behalf of these women, but to stand beside them as a bridge, so that their work is seen, understood, and fairly paid. Weaving is among the oldest forms of knowledge we hold, practiced across the world in ways that still carry mystery. A single thread runs through all of it, and through all of us. MamaQuilla exists to keep that thread from being lost to sameness.

For this reason, MamaQuilla is also a place of learning. Alongside the textiles and their stories, we share what we have come to understand about the fashion industry and the preservation of indigenous craft and culture. And these questions, once you follow them, open onto larger ones: about life and womanhood, about capitalism and the systems we live inside, about sustainability, truth, and coherence between what we believe and how we live. A single thread, pulled gently, leads to all of it. Our purpose is not only to offer beautiful pieces, but to encourage a return to less, and to the worth of quality over quantity.

A genuinely handwoven piece in detail

Where we are going

We hope to nurture an interconnected network of textile artisans, centered on women and welcoming all, where ancestral knowledge meets contemporary life with dignity. A world where traditional weaving is not disappearing but evolving, where artisans are fairly paid and respected as cultural carriers, and where buying a textile becomes an act of relationship rather than consumption.

The story does not belong to one person. It belongs to every pair of hands that keeps it alive.

A wide, hopeful image — a network that grows

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We write rarely, and with care.