For Aleix Barau, a photographer and director with deep roots in the world of streetwear and sportswear, football was his gateway to style. His childhood obsession with Barça and Ronaldinho evolved into a photographic journey that captures the raw nostalgia of vintage football aesthetics. Through his lens, he explores the intersection of sport, fashion, and memory—a collision between aesthetics of the past and present that speaks to those who grew up immersed in the same era, when wearing football clothes in the streets was already cool before it became a global trend.

For Barau, photography is not just a profession; it’s an archive of stories. His work fuses the past with the present, creating images that resonate with anyone who has ever been shaped by the culture that defines Barcelona.

Football Heads Growing in Barça

“Growing up in Barcelona, football wasn’t just a passion—it was my introduction to sportswear. From the very beginning, I was obsessed with Barça tracksuits. Every year for my birthday, I’d ask for the latest one, marking what was probably my first ‘sportswear grail.’

When I hit high school, BMX became my new obsession, and filming everything came naturally. While touring Europe with friends, I was always the one with a camera in hand. I’ll never forget finding my first film camera at home—it was probably my dad’s.

I was working retail jobs as a salesman when I fell in love with fashion photography. From 16 to 27, I worked in various streetwear stores across Barcelona. As I dove deeper in the streetwear scene, I found myself poring over editorials and fashion books. By then, I understood the mechanics of a camera and had a clear vision of my aesthetic—I just needed to refine it. So I began shooting my own editorials, pulling vintage streetwear and sportswear pieces from my collection.

At 27, it hit me: photography was my true calling. So I moved to Madrid to pursue a Master’s in Fashion Photography. That experience unlocked an entirely new world for me—one full of references I hadn’t yet explored. Until then, I was entirely self-taught, never really delving into other photographers’ work. But once I did, everything changed. Learning how to set the light like one artist or experimenting with composition like another pushed me to grow. Yet, the most valuable thing I took from it all was my street experience. That’s what gives my work a personal edge. Photography, for me, is all about telling my story through my own lens, in my own style.”

Bet on Yourself Every Time

“The lockdown was a defining moment for me. Before everything shut down, I was working in retail, and I made a promise to myself: as soon as I could step outside again, I would shoot at least once a week. With a massive collection of vintage pieces—Nike, Lacoste—I pulled them out, had my friends wear them, and began shooting all over the city.

Seven months later, Lacoste reached out. They’d seen my photos and asked me to send over more. The following week, they posted them on their official Instagram and tagged me. That moment shifted everything. Suddenly, smaller brands started reaching out, eager to collaborate. It was then that I made the decision to go full-time as a professional photographer.

I began promoting my work more, and things started falling into place. The results were impressive, and soon brands were hiring me to create weekly shoots—paying me double what I was making in retail.

It was the perfect setup: more money, more creative freedom, and the time to develop my own projects. Everything aligned in such a way that I felt ready to take the leap.”

The Joga Bonito Imprinting

“Growing up, football was everything to me, and my family shared the obsession. It was the Ronaldinho era in Barcelona—he was, and still is, the ultimate football icon for me, just as he was for most kids here. At home, I’ve got an entire collection of memorabilia—signed jerseys, tees, a plate—I was a true Ronaldinho fanatic. That time was all about the ‘Joga Bonito’ commercials, Cantona, the cage ads, the Brazil 2002 World Cup jerseys, the Nike silver ball… all the things that brands are now reviving as tributes. That was the golden era—the moment that completely reshaped football aesthetics.

I can still remember the first game Ronaldinho played for Barça like it was yesterday. He scored that unforgettable goal from way outside the box, and I was in total shock. After that night, it was Ronaldinho everywhere. Every time a new highlight dropped—an Elastico, a cool trick—every kid in the streets was out there the next day trying to imitate him. It felt surreal. Being in Barcelona during that time, witnessing it all up close, definitely left its mark on me.

I always say that the day I shoot a fashion editorial with Ronaldinho, I can quit photography. That’s my final destination. Ironically, after Ronaldinho left Barcelona, I stepped away from football too—and that’s when I picked up BMX and dove deeper into photography.”

Collecting Clothes, Collecting Memories

“I’ve been a collector since I was a kid. Before I even picked up a camera, my true passion was hunting for clothes and sneakers—especially streetwear and sportswear. One of my uncles, who was only ten years older than me, was like a big brother. He traveled a lot and was deeply interested in skate culture, punk, rap, and hip-hop. Every time he’d come back, he’d bring me clothes or leave me some of his own. Looking back, he was probably the first person to introduce me to street style and sportswear—he definitely shaped my taste.

For me, it all started with shoes. I was obsessed. My dad hated taking me shopping because I could spend hours in a store, trying on ten different pairs, pressing the soles, smelling the leather, analyzing every little detail before making a decision. I still remember the first time I got a pair of Air Max or my first TNs—that feeling stuck with me.

Since football was such a big part of my childhood, I had all the classics—Total 90s, Mercurials, Vapors—and I never threw them away. My room was stacked with shoeboxes. And being a football fan, I also collected jerseys from various clubs. As a goalkeeper, one of my all-time favorites was Buffon’s Juventus jersey.

When it came to clothes, my biggest reference was always the guys I saw on the streets of Barcelona growing up. I remember walking to school, watching how people dressed, how they moved. I was always in Lacoste—polos, sweaters—but I never had a tracksuit. I wanted one so badly when I was 12, but my family wouldn’t let me. They didn’t want me to look like the street guys who wore them daily, hanging out, smoking, hustling. But I was fascinated by their aesthetic.

I still collect clothes today, because every piece—every tracksuit, every pair of Air Max—holds a memory. At some point, I realized I wanted to do the same with my photography. Through my photos, I want people to remember the different moments of their lives, the eras they lived through. For me, it’s all about capturing nostalgia and preserving those memories.”

Documenting the Street Essence

“When I first started collecting Lacoste tracksuits, Air Max, and vintage football jerseys, it hit me—these pieces wouldn’t last forever. Over time, they’d fade, get worn out, lost, or simply forgotten. So, how could I ensure I kept them with me for good? Through photos. That’s how it all began. I started documenting every piece I owned. At first, it was just my friends wearing them in front of a plain white backdrop. But after studying photography, I began applying what I had learned and developed my own way of capturing vintage fashion in the streets of Barcelona.

What’s fascinating is that by using vintage clothing, I wasn’t merely documenting what people were wearing at the time—I was capturing styles from 15, even 20 years ago. Fashion operates in cycles, and I started noticing that many of the pieces I photographed would eventually make their way back into production by the same brands. So, in a sense, I was documenting both the past and the present simultaneously. That’s what makes my photography special to me. People may look at my work today and see it as mere documentation, but in 50 years, these photos will carry real historical value. It’s not just about fashion—it’s about capturing culture. That’s why I call my style documentary fashion. It will always have that perspective, whether it’s a vintage scooter from 2005 in the background or an old street sign that adds an authentic feeling to the shot.”

Stay True to Your Aesthetic

“From the start, I’ve always stayed true to my aesthetic. I never changed my style to chase trends—I just kept doing me. And now, brands come to me because they want my vision, my perspective. I feel incredibly fortunate to work with brands I truly love, but even if one day I had to return to retail, I’d still be shooting the same way. It’s never been about the money for me. If a brand approaches me with a campaign that feels too commercial, I turn it down. I’d rather protect my essence. At first, saying no is intimidating—you feel like you might be missing opportunities—but in the long run, it pays off. Now, when brands reach out, they trust me to do my thing, freely and authentically.

Whenever I take on a project, I go deep. If I don’t know much about the brand, I research everything—their origins, their history, their cultural significance—so I can create something real, something that truly resonates with their audience.

One of the most rewarding parts of my work is when people from all over the world message me, saying that a photo I took reminds them of their childhood, their neighborhood, the feeling of hanging out with friends. People from Brazil, New York, Europe—no matter where they’re from, we all share these memories. That’s what I try to tap into: nostalgia that connects us as a community. I take these references from 20, 30 years ago and transform them into something fresh, always honoring the original. To me, that’s more powerful than just taking a cool picture. It’s a game—blending the past with the present, adapting iconic visuals to today’s aesthetic, creating something new while still carrying the weight of history.”

Trust the Creative Process

“For me, the creative process is different every time. Sometimes, it’s about jumping into something without overthinking it. A friend might come to me with an idea—“Hey, I want to shoot this in my neighborhood”—and you just go for it. In those moments, there’s no preparation; it’s all about capturing whatever unfolds around you. You’re moving with the action, like a reporter with a camera, snapping shots as the scene develops.

Other times, though, I have a more specific vision, and I really want to make something happen, so I plan for it. Last year, when I started thinking about the 125th anniversary of FC Barcelona, I really wanted to create something special that could look like a campaign with Barça but also mix it with my personal style. So, I spent the entire year brainstorming. By the end of December, I started reaching out to friends who had cool Barca memorabilia, like a match-worn shirt or vintage Total90 sneakers. I mixed that with personal touches—shooting my grandma at home in a Barca jersey, people spray-painting graffiti on the streets, guys in the neighborhood playing FIFA 2003 on PlayStation, wearing old-school Barca jerseys. I brought all these elements together, and it just clicked. 

Nike saw the work, and they reached out. If I had just gone to Nike with the idea, they probably wouldn’t have cared. But when they saw the photos I had created, they were interested. Sometimes, it’s about showing people your vision and letting them come to you.”

From Loving the Brands, to Working with Them

“There are different kinds of shoots I love to do, but one of the most exciting for me is when I’m working in places where not many people have access. The energy is completely different—an adrenaline rush. You’re in spaces that few can enter, witnessing things most will never experience. And in those moments, it’s not just about taking photos—it’s about knowing how to engage with people, how to respond to their jokes, how to connect. At first, you’re the outsider, but little by little, you break down those barriers, and by the end, you’re fully integrated. It’s also about shining a light on these spaces. I remember shooting a Lacoste campaign in a Gipsy neighborhood, and the locals were like, “Why would Lacoste want to show us in their campaign?” And then, when I gave them free shoes, they were genuinely amazed. This is the kind of work that matters to me—creating bridges between brands and the authentic culture that inspires them.

That same approach helped me build relationships with other brands. One of my first big moments came with One Block Down. They appreciated my work and offered me the chance to collaborate with C.P. Company. For me, C.P. Company was a dream. At the time, I was still working retail, and couldn’t afford to buy C.P. gear, but I had always admired the brand (https://athletamag.com/en/massimo-osti-archive-a-sanctuary-of-fashion-for-a-revolutionary-figure/). When they sent me a bunch of clothes, I gathered my friends, and we made something out of it right away. That shoot was wild because, for my friends, it was like suddenly wearing clothes that were worth a lot of money—items they had always dreamed of owning. Coming from outside Barcelona, from a neighborhood where C.P. was a brand we admired but never had access to, it was a huge deal.

That experience opened the door to more collaborations, like the Air Max 97 Silver Bullet campaign. I tracked down 20 pairs of Silver Bullets from friends and organized a shoot in my neighborhood, with a guy riding a beat-up bike, wearing a 1997 jacket. The photos were fire. Later, when they did a collab with Nike, they referenced those images, and I got to represent the collection with shoots in Morocco, Milan, and Marseille.

What I love about these projects is that they often start small—just me and my friends, creating without expectations. But then they evolve into something bigger. They show brands the power of nostalgia and real culture. And now, more than ever, brands are realizing that looking back—understanding their roots—is just as important as innovating for the future.