“I don’t feel like I’m running a business; to me, it’s a home”
Mimo Agüero has been the director and the soul of the Tablao de Carmen since 2015. But her role goes far beyond what the word “director” encompasses: she is in charge of artistic programming (even paying attention to which palo each dancer performs during every show), welcomes guests, arranges the carnations placed on the tables every evening, posts stories and updates on Instagram, manages commercial relationships, and supervises the accounts. She also oversees the sound and lighting, maintains the decor, and always keeps in mind the spirit her mother, Sunchy Echegaray, wanted to instill in the tablao when she co-founded it with her partners in 1988.
In this interview, Mimo shares her vision of the business and her love for flamenco. She also recounts her first steps at the Tablao de Carmen, where she worked in communications and publicity between the ages of 20 and 27, during the Olympic era in Barcelona. She returned to the tablao at 47, after living abroad for 20 years, during which she never lost her passion or love for this magical place in Poble Espanyol. “Once, shortly after moving to Chicago in 1995, I got a call from the tablao, and I could hear the sounds of the tablao in the background. It broke my heart, and I started crying. Leaving Spain meant leaving behind something I loved most in the world,” she recalls.
How did you first come to the Tablao de Carmen?
It was more like the tablao came to me. My mother [Sunchy Echegaray, a great flamenco enthusiast and friend of Carmen Amaya] became a partner, designed it, and invited me to its inauguration in 1988. I loved it. My mother suggested that my sister and I take on roles there. I was 20 years old and studying Information Sciences. I was in charge of bringing information about the tablao to hotels and tourist offices, acting as a public relations manager, and inviting celebrities like the singer Martirio to visit. I also organized events to promote the tablao.
At that time, the tablao’s roster included artists like Chicuelo and Julián el Califa on guitar, Chiqui de la Línea singing, and the three Carmona sisters dancing. Alongside Faraón, the artistic director, I was learning the trade. We brought in performers from outside Barcelona, such as Sara Baras, Luis de Luis, Angelita Vargas, Eva Yerbabuena, and Joaquín Grilo, who performed at the end of the shows.
What I loved most were the artists. I spent time with them, visited their neighborhoods, ate at their homes, and immersed myself in a world that fascinated me as much as it did them. Instead of going to regular spots with my friends, I would head to afterparties with the flamencos.
Did your passion for flamenco come from your father?
My father [Juan Antonio Agüero, flamenco guitarist and widower of Carmen Amaya] played the guitar every single day. The sound of a flamenco guitar being tuned is something I carry deep within my soul—it’s my favorite sound. My father owned a 1930 Santos Hernández guitar with old tuning pegs that would go out of tune as you played. It had to be tuned constantly.
However, I didn’t experience the flamenco ambiance—the clapping, the singing, a guitar accompanying a dancer—until the Tablao de Carmen opened. My father never explicitly told us to listen to flamenco. I do remember one night when my mother woke up my sister, a friend, and me to take us to a bar called El Universal to hear La Niña de la Puebla sing. It was incredible. She sang with her glasses on, accompanied by someone clapping and another person playing the guitar. That was the most flamenco experience I had before the tablao.
What’s the most beautiful thing your father told you about Carmen Amaya?
He told me one of the things that fascinated him about Carmen was her origins and her world, which made him feel at home. Coming from a conservative family, my father took up flamenco guitar, locking himself in the bathroom one day at age 16 to practice while looking in the mirror. His dedication to flamenco led him to Carmen.
He once told her, “I bet you won’t marry me,” and she replied, “I bet I will.” And so it happened—they were both confident, passionate about flamenco, and unconcerned with others’ opinions.
What was the biggest challenge when you took over the Tablao de Carmen in 2015?
When I arrived, I had to do something I had never done before: run a business. I remember the first time I sat down and saw the payroll sheets—what people earned and how much it cost the company. I looked at it again, thinking… this can’t be real. I had never seen a payroll before. I was shocked by VAT, Social Security… No one explained anything to me, and on top of that, I didn’t like the subject. But little by little, I started learning bits and pieces. Then there was the website—we didn’t sell through the website at first. And as for the artistic side, don’t even get me started. The first manager I worked with during the initial phase in 2015 told me we had to reduce the cast to five artists. For me, that was sacrilege. It hurt me to think about changing the artistic structure that had always been in place at this Tablao, the Tablao de Carmen. But we moved forward with eight artists.
The tablao was more like a restaurant back then, and now we have three menu options: one with typical Spanish tapas, another more upscale option that includes dishes like hake, sirloin, and Iberian ham, and the “Estrella” menu, which is a bit more VIP, both in the dishes and in the service. I wanted to structure it this way because I think it allows us to cater to all types of tastes and budgets. Over the years, we’ve also adapted to all types of clients. Now, for each menu, we offer vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, lactose-free, and halal options.
I also faced the challenging labor situations where, on some occasions, I had to let people go. Managing personnel matters was the hardest part for me in the beginning, and to this day, I find it the most delicate and challenging aspect. Human relationships continue to be the most important, the most complicated, and the most relevant part of any initiative, of any business. I truly enjoy and feel excited about leading the Tablao de Carmen, and I make it a point to share my enthusiasm and respect for this institution with the team that makes it all happen.
Any funny anecdotes with clients?
One client called me over as the show started and asked, “What is this?” Another said, “This doesn’t feel like a business to me; it feels like home.” I told my mother, and she replied, “That’s exactly what I wanted, for it to feel like the homes I grew up in.”
Any anecdotes with artists?
I often share one about a car ride with Diego Amaya (Carmen Amaya’s nephew and a palmero), my father, an English friend, and me. I played music on my cassette player, and my father strummed his guitar. I asked Diego, “Can you clap along?” He replied sharply, “Every clap of mine costs money.” And he was right.
Another memorable moment was when Juan Ramírez, a legendary dancer from Alicante and my idol, came to see a show. His mastery of footwork percussion is unparalleled. Watching him in the Tablao de Carmen was unforgettable. Later, he returned to perform here.
Another moment at the tablao?
For me, a truly memorable night was the day Juan Ramírez, a dancer from Alicante who has always been and still is my idol, came to see the show. Among all the living dancers, he’s a true master of foot percussion. They told me you could see it on my face—just the thought that an idol I’ve admired my entire life was at the Tablao de Carmen… We arranged for him to come back and dance, and he did.
A flamenco palo you love
Seguiriya.
A lyric that you love
Many, especially those sung by Mariano Santiago (who phrases and vocalizes them very clearly): the taranto lyrics, for example, like “las vueltas que el mundo da, tío Rufino…”. One he always sings for alegrías, about Carmen sleeping and waking up. Or “Póngase usté a trecho / que lo mando yo como si fuera el mismo gobernador,” or “Señor que vas a caballo / y no das ni los buenos días / si el caballo cojeara / otro gallo cantaría.”
What makes the Tablao de Carmen different from other flamenco venues in Barcelona?
The tablao embodies the love and respect my mother and I have for flamenco. It’s not a typical business; it’s an authentic space that honors its history and connection to Carmen Amaya. The setting—in the Poble Espanyol, where Carmen herself performed—gives it a unique charm. The simplicity, traditional essence, and lack of pretension make it timeless.
The tablao’s character has evolved naturally, shaped by its people, its flamenco, and its ambiance. It’s not about being better or worse than other venues; it’s about being genuine. Visitors often take photos as soon as they enter, captivated by its beauty. My mother’s vision of creating a classical yet vibrant flamenco space succeeded, and the Tablao de Carmen continues to enchant everyone who steps inside.
It has a soul that doesn’t have to be better or worse than others, but it is impossible to replicate.
Exactly. It has developed its own patina and personality over time. I also believe that a place where you can watch flamenco while eating and drinking offers an added layer of enjoyment that other venues might not have. Once, someone asked my mother what made flamenco better or worse, and she answered that it depended on how much wine you’d had. Without diminishing the seriousness of flamenco, here the artists perform with the rigor of the art, yet you can also find the freshness of flamenco.
Additionally, the venue is stunning; people start taking photos as soon as they enter. I think my mother, being both classic and sensible, understanding and loving flamenco, created a truly flamenco space. It doesn’t go out of style and has no pretensions. Everything makes sense: the Calle de Arcos in Poble Espanyol, the Patio de Carmen where she danced… the equation fits, and it works.
