After a decade spent redefining opulence, craftsmanship, and cultural storytelling, ONALAJA steps confidently into a new era marked by the unveiling of its refined emblem and an artistic, maximalist summer edit.

Far more than a seasonal lookbook, this visual manifesto is a declaration of where ONALAJA has been and where it’s headed. With the introduction of its newly evolved emblem, anchored in artisanal heritage, ONALAJA signals a future that is both sharply focused and fearlessly expressive.

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“This moment called for something symbolic,” says founder and creative director, Kayinsola Onalaja. “We wanted to strip away the noise and return to what truly defines us: artistic fashion, meticulous craft, cultural richness, and an unfiltered commitment to self-expression. The new logo is not a departure, it’s an invitation to go deeper.”

The accompanying summer edit embodies the brand’s signature spirit: tactile embellishments, flattering silhouettes, and a visual language that feels instinctively fluid yet unapologetically bold. Shot against textured, light-washed backdrops, the imagery evokes both softness and strength, a duality that has long been the heartbeat of ONALAJA. 

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At the heart of the collection are pieces that honour ONALAJA’s legacy while hinting at its future:

• The Zaza Bag — A marine-inspired piece that moves like sculpture, fusing playful forms with fierce femininity.
• The Zusi Beaded Skirt — An evolution of the iconic Zusi dress; liquid in movement, a collector’s item stitched with cultural weight.
• The Aurelia Dress — A visual poem of embroidered florals and bees, captured in an asymmetrical silhouette that celebrates unpredictable beauty.
• The Sierra Maxi Skirt — Fully beaded, boldly cut; a meditation on elegance and presence that demands space and leaves an impression.

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As ONALAJA enters its second decade, this emblem and summer statement are more than a seasonal refresh, they are a testament to the brand’ s unwavering commitment to art and craftsmanship that transcends trend or time.

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Discover the campaign and explore at onalaja.com

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There's something magnetic about Jacob Hunter's confidence when he says, "I'm not a songwriter." It's the kind of statement that makes you lean in, especially when you realize this is the guy behind some of your favorite tracks, Davido's "Anything" and "10 Kilo," Tekno's "No Forget", and those soul-stirring Oxlade songs that hit different on late nights.

Born Marvellous Chukwuebuka Oweazim, Jacob has this way of talking about music that feels almost spiritual. He doesn't create songs, he says, he's just the channel they flow through. And honestly? We believe him. The story of how he did it, and what it taught him about his own artistry, is one of those conversations you don't forget.

Deeds Magazine: What first drew you to songwriting, and can you pinpoint a moment when you knew this was the path you wanted to pursue professionally?

Jacob Hunter: The thing is, I'm not a songwriter. I always tell people, it's funny, but I'm an artist. I'm a singer who knows how to write songs. I believe I have so much music inside, enough music not just for me but for others. So from myself, I pull out into others. I wouldn't say I found my place as a songwriter. I think I'm still bringing out my music. When you hear people sing songs that I write, it's just me sharing my music. I would say I'm a singer-songwriter, not just a songwriter. It's just time, as time goes on, you get to see a lot of things. I'm still the same guy that writes songs.

Deeds Magazine: Looking back at your earliest songs versus today's hits like "Anything" and "10 Kilo" with Davido, how would you describe the biggest shift in your writing style or perspective?

Jacob Hunter: Obviously, it's a privilege to write for someone like Davido. Working with Davido is challenging because that guy has so many ideas going on in his head. For him to accept yours is sometimes mind-blowing. But here's the part, I wasn't the type of guy that would write for someone like Davido. I normally don't do that type of music. I make more soulful music, Afro Pop, but not Davido's type of music because my music is more soulful.

Writing for Davido challenged me to bring out something different from myself. When we were sending ideas to Davido last year, we were going back and forth. The first draft I sent through Louder, shout-out to Louder, he's the guy that put me on with Davido, he was like, "This is a very great song, but this is not a Davido song." A lot of producers knew that Jacob does soul music, Afro Pop, he's not the ideal guy to call to write for Davido.

That got to me. I was like, "You know what? I'm gonna prove everybody wrong." So I went on a journey with Davido's career and listened to all his albums for three days. I was soaking that Davido feeling. That's when I did the first sketch of "Anything".

Deeds Magazine: Walk me through your experience co-writing "Anything." How did the hook, lyrics, or melody come together in the studio?

Jacob Hunter: The thing about Davido is he always finds a way to make anything good. You can send him a very rough idea and he turns it into something completely different. It's just crazy. So we sent "Anything," and then "10 Kilo" was different. By then, I was in his bag. I mean, I was no longer struggling to see how I can write for Davido. Davido was easy for me mentally now.

I think "10 Kilo" was the fastest and easiest song we did. There was no brainstorming. I'm a product of grace.

Deeds Magazine: How does your vision for a song mesh with an artist's vision to create the final result?

Jacob Hunter: When I write for people, I tend to write like them. I tend to create something that they would create. If I was this guy at this particular point of his life, what would I want to think about? "10 Kilo" was the easiest because I was in the hotel room. I did like two songs that day. I just vibed on the beat straight up, and it was "10 Kilo." We sent Davido the idea, he loved it, he killed it.

For me as a person, I don't really waste time writing. I'm not the guy that takes seven days to write a song. I believe that music is given and music comes from a source. I don't act like I'm the one creating. I'm just the channel for these things to walk through. So I make music as fast as possible. I write five songs and I'm done with five songs in one hour. It depends on the frequency at which I'm thinking and connecting at that moment.

Deeds Magazine: You've written for both established names like Davido and rising stars like Crayon. How does your approach change when you're writing for a superstar versus a rising star?

Jacob Hunter: There are two things here. I'm a product of grace and talent. When I meet an artist, within the next five minutes, I get to know how you think musically. It's just something for me. When I'm with an artist and I'm writing with an artist, I get to know how you think musically.

There are two people, there's Jacob Hunter the artist and Jacob Hunter the songwriter. So the artist has to sit back and the songwriter has to come forward. It's the duty of the songwriter to serve the artist. You have to move into where the person's head is at. If it's a song for a heartbreak, you have to get your heart broken in five minutes. You have to understand the frequency the person is on.

If I'm with Crayon, we vibe. I know what Crayon is thinking in the next few minutes. Most of the records I do with Crayon, we're always in the same space. We make songs together.

Deeds Magazine: With songs like "No Forget" and "Pounds & Dollars" for Tekno, you moved between R&B and Afropop. How do you pivot your pen to match an artist's mood or genre?

Jacob Hunter: "No Forget" is Jacob Hunter. "No Forget" is my type of music. It was actually my song, it's for myself, like personal stories. "Pounds & Dollars" is Tekno, that's me getting into Tekno's space, working with him. "No Forget" is what I would think, and it's an idea that Tekno actually liked. That's the difference. "No Forget" came from a real place. If you hear even the beginning of the vocals, you'll hear my voice, and it's soulful. That's my type of stuff, R&B.

Deeds Magazine: Oxlade's "Piano" and "On My Mind" lean into soulful, intimate vibes. What special considerations guide you when crafting songs for a voice like his?

Jacob Hunter: Oxlade is like my brother, like my blood. We listen to similar artists. You need to see how Oxlade and I vibe, we share telepathy. I believe we're both musical geniuses and we connect on a very beautiful level. I can do a song and Oxlade can carry it. Oxlade can do a song and I'll carry the song. Is that crazy?

We're both R&B guys. We listen to a lot of Chris Brown, Michael Jackson, especially Michael Jackson. So it's not really hard for me to get in pocket when I'm writing with Oxlade. I don't try to get in his pocket because we both make music from a genuine place. He's able to match up to my energy level, I'm able to match up to his energy level. We both had vocal coaches while growing up, same style, same vibe.

Deeds Magazine: Your co-write "Upstanding" gave Morravey a standout moment. What did you focus on to help shape a unique sound for a newer artist?

Jacob Hunter: Morravey. The first time was in a session. We just vibed. There were a lot of people there because I was not the only person that wrote on that song. There were a lot of people that created with me. It was just a place where everybody had very good energy. I brought my idea, you bring your idea, and we created something good. Two songs actually, "Upstanding" and "Ifineme". It was just a place where a lot of songwriters were present, so we all created something good.

Deeds Magazine: When you see streaming numbers climb or success with your songs, does that real-time feedback influence how you write or choose which songs to push next?

Jacob Hunter: Honestly, I'm grateful, but I know it's all heading to a destination. The songwriting is just my entrance into the industry. I come from a place where you have to do what you have to do to survive. Music is expensive. Music is not something you just do if you don't really have a lot of money. So I had to create for people in order to create for myself. It's all means to a destination.

I'm still gonna keep writing songs for as many people as possible while I'm dropping my own songs. I think the real goal is to have my songs, the ones I wrote and the ones I sang, number one at the same time. That's the real goal. So it's all just means to a destination. I believe I'm just a product of grace.

Deeds Magazine: Viral TikTok challenges and Instagram reels now drive hits. How do you factor in social trends when you sit down to write?

Jacob Hunter: Unconsciously, maybe, but the aim is to create a very good song. I think the songs that blow or go viral on TikTok are good songs. So I don't think about TikTok first. I think maybe when I'm done with the song and I hear it, I'm like, "Oh, this line could actually go viral." I don't think about TikTok first because I believe if the song is good, it's gonna fly regardless. I don't really think about TikTok first, but at the end of the day, you have people that are listening and they're like, "Oh, this part will be very good for TikTok." So I think about it sometimes.

Deeds Magazine: As Afropop and African songwriting continue to break global boundaries, what's one piece of advice you'd give to emerging songwriters hoping to achieve the kind of success you've found?

Jacob Hunter: I would have a lot of things to tell songwriters. The first question I would ask is: what do you want? Why are you writing these songs? You have to know the heart of whoever is writing those songs. Are you writing these songs as a songwriter? Because when you think about the songwriting industry right now, it's an industry filled with artists. There's no songwriting industry, there's a music industry. In Nigeria, songwriting is getting recognized now, but a lot of artists are writing for artists. For people who just want to be songwriters, my advice is: keep writing songs. Keep writing songs and try to practice getting into the head of whoever you're writing for.

For someone who's a songwriter and a singer like myself, I would say always be honest with yourself and never be contented. Don't be contented because you have money or because you think this is all you have. It's all timing. Keep building, keep writing songs for people, keep writing songs for yourself. Don't shortchange yourself. The songs you're writing for people are still part of the plan, it's part of God's plan for your own artistry, for your own music. It's shaping you.

Keep writing songs, keep making music. Music is something I'm in love with. I've been in love with music for the longest time. You won't find anybody that loves music the way I do. It's coming from a place of obsession. I'm obsessed with this stuff. So I'll tell you: be obsessed, because that's the only way you can be great at something. Be obsessed. Keep doing it over and over again. I'm not trying to motivate nobody here, but if you can do it, keep doing it. Always give yourself a reason to keep doing this stuff. If you love it, continue. That's it, basically.

Talking to Jacob Hunter feels like getting a masterclass in staying true to yourself while being exactly what others need. His whole approach, this idea that he becomes whoever he's writing for without losing himself, is something most of us could learn from, whether we're making music or just trying to navigate life.

What stays with me most is his obsession. Not the unhealthy kind, but the beautiful, all-consuming love for music that makes him write five songs in an hour and listen to Davido's entire discography for three days straight just to understand how to serve him better. That's the kind of dedication that separates the good from the great.

And maybe that's the real lesson here. Success isn't just about talent, It's about being so obsessed with your craft that you'll do whatever it takes to master it, even if it means stepping outside your comfort zone to write for someone whose music sounds nothing like yours.

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Returning to Hyde Park annually always brings an energy to festival season in London that feels like something not to miss. On this occasion, joining the masses gathered in the park, the main attraction was none other than the current pop princess, Sabrina Carpenter.

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To say that Sabrina has had a good year is an understatement. From the release of 2024's Short n Sweet to her appearance at this year's MET Gala, not to mention a successful run of her Short n Sweet tour that has seen her gracing stages all over the world, she is busking in this moment. She is not stopping for a second with her follow-up album Man’s Best Friend already on the horizon, due for release at the end of summer. This feels like saying farewell to the Short' n Sweet Era, and what better way than hosting two sold-out days at BST?

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The lineup leading up to Sabrina is a treat for pop fans alike. We joined the crowd as they walked into the vibes of Sofy, who played the Rainbow stage and was a pleasant treat, having never experienced her talents before. Taking in the main Oak Stage, the all-female lineup started with Amber Mark, who set the vibes for the day ahead. She was followed by Beabadoobee, who played through her set, which was heavy on her 2000s pop teen soundtrack vibe, with the crowd singing along song for song.

As the time for Sabrina's performance approached, the anticipation in the air was palpable. When she finally graced the stage, the crowd's energy was at its peak. Starting with “Busy Woman” and then moving into the album opener, “Taste,” she set the tone for the show. It was a collective singing session from then on. The hour and 20 minutes showcased Sabrina in her full glory, a testament to her journey from opening for BLACKPINK to headlining two sold-out shows.

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The show was a visual spectacle, with a production that had Sabrina's name in the lights. At one point, she even moved through the crowd, creating a sense of intimacy. The highlight was when she was lifted higher on a platform as she performed “Don’t Smile,” bringing her even closer to the crowd. The show was a testament to her star power and was worth the wait.

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Having missed her headline show during the Short n Sweet tour, this was the perfect opportunity to witness Sabrina in her full star power. Her setlist was a journey, from the Beyoncé cover to the fan favourite “Please Please Please”, the album standout track “Bed Chem”, and the emotionally charged acoustic rendition of "Sharpest Tool”. And of course, the show wouldn't be complete without the summer standout hit “Espresso", which she performed with a fireworks show to close out the night.

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Ultimately, the rise and elevation of Sabrina Carpenter have been something to witness, and having been able to experience this on almost a perfect summer's day, we are among many who can attest to her success. 

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Perhaps it would’ve been yet another screen but this time, wider and in the living room where I’d have to fight for the remote with my brother before I could get the channel I wanted or more times than not, settle for what he’d like. Before I had a phone, I don’t really remember what I’d use to decompress. Screens are familiar objects considering technological advances, my parents would disagree while they bury their heads in facebook and send AI videos of poor drainage systems in Nigeria— like videos couldn't be recorded quite literally anywhere in the country to serve the same purpose. 

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That being said, in my experience and probably yours, a phone is an integral component of our lives even if we wouldn’t like to admit, at least I wouldn’t. Although, Studies have shown more people are intentionally withdrawing from screen time because of perceived inability to control adverse effects on psychological welfare. This digital fatigue isn’t unique to the West, a growing number of Gen Z users are deleting apps, muting group chats, or even switching back to ‘palasa’ phones to escape the pressure. A 2021 study in the Journal of African Media Studies noted that Nigerian university students reported heightened levels of anxiety, depression, and information overload linked to persistent phone use. While people try to pull away from the screen, others pull inwards and land right onto our screens in a bid for either pay or fame. 

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Considering the facts, myths and figures reeled in about influencer earnings, every individual who’s willing, maybe even not— the business owner who is in search of sales, is putting in pressure to create content and put on their performance for the screen. I consider it overwhelming and now, my phone that once served as a decompressing device is causing me anxiety, seperate from the depression-inducing feeling accompanied with sitting face deep in my hand-sized screen.  Everywhere, all at once, Everyone’s opinion is present, persistent and repetitive. Ideas do need to be expressed, said and offered into reality but what is the requirement to express one’s opinion even?

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The vast majority want  to become content creators. It's an easy check. Who doesn’t love to get it easy? On the other hand, people who do not want to get the job done themselves actively scout for young, digitally fluent talent,  to exploit on some occasions. This usually looks like hiring Gen Z social media managers or interns to become the literal face and voice of a brand, without proper compensation, credit, or equity in the growth they drive. The result is a masked labor economy where visibility is exchanged for virality, not value. Duolingo, which became notorious for turning its owl mascot, Duo, into a chaotic Gen Z personality—dancing, thirst-trapping, and trend-hopping all under the guidance of young creators behind the scenes. Similarly, plastic surgeons like Dr. Miami have rebranded their clinic as entertainment hubs on TikTok to simplify complex surgical procedures into digestible memes and trendy sounds. 

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This “attention economy”, where engagement equals income,  is part of a larger digital structure where emotion is monetized. Outrage, particularly, sells. And if you’ve ever felt personally attacked by something you read online, you were probably the target of the product being sold. Social media companies like X (formerly Twitter) are well aware of this. Algorithms now prioritize content that triggers strong emotions like anger, confusion, or annoyance, because those reactions keep users engaged longer. 

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Social Media app creators and management teams have learnt the need to spark a reaction out of you so they shove it in your face— The more annoyed you are, the more time you spend on the app—the more valuable the app gets. At the end of the day, social media is a business. When you open a new X account, you’re often met with an overwhelming feed of right-wing influencers, inflammatory takes, and copy-paste tweets that look eerily familiar because they’ve likely gone viral before in slightly different forms. While apps like Instagram and TikTok realise that showing you things you interact with will keep you on your page, Twitter in its more text reliant form, offers feed to make you exhaust your character limit. If content is constantly cute and wholesome stuff on the timeline, interaction is left at a like, retweet or perhaps a short comment and hopping off the app is done with ease. However, a tweet that sparks emotion, preferably anger causes multiple threads and longer time periods on the app. 

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Even Brands have long since moved past simple advertising and now speak with distinct “personalities” online, often designed to mimic the wit and relatability of a real person. This shift, driven by the need for engagement, gave rise to companies adopting “savage” personas that thrived on sarcasm and provocation. Wendy’s, for instance, became infamous on X (formerly Twitter) for roasting users and rival brands— a strategy that once made it the most talked-about corporate account online. According to a 2017 report by Adweek, Wendy’s engagement soared by over 365% after its viral roast campaign, prompting countless other brands to mimic the snarky tone. But while virality can feel organic, most of these posts are meticulously curated—often passing through several layers of approval before going live. What may look like a casual tweet could very well be the outcome of three strategy meetings. The risk here is that once something becomes a trend, failing to execute it perfectly is often worse than not attempting it at all. When brands try to replicate cultural moments or internet lingo without authenticity, it tends to backfire leading to ridicule or backlash. A 2023 Deloitte study on digital brand presence highlighted that 63% of Gen Z consumers can tell when a brand is being performative, and they’re more likely to disengage when content feels forced. And because brands operate at scale, their “misses” are magnified: with large followings comes heightened scrutiny, and once a misstep is posted, even just for a minute,  screenshots are taken and circulated fast, making deletion futile. 

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According to a 2021 MIT study, false or emotionally charged content spreads up to six times faster than the truth. Ever since Elon Musk did us the disservice of creating paid content creation through blue tick registration which was initially an easy process, it’s been, what I would refer to as an attack on humanity, particularly my eyes because I wish I could unsee some words that have been typed on the internet that brew anger in me. Users such as societyhatesjay, kussman amongst others create a phenomenon popularly known as ‘banger boys’— a community of young men on social media creating content associated with misogyny, religious and cultural stereotypes, homophobia, and all round bigotry— a by-product of the Twitter money-making frenzy farming  for that emotion— My rage, the exact factor being sought after to generate views for pay and gain and so is yours. The timeline has become less like a digital town square and more like an unregulated market. Now, every hot take is primarily hustle.

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Adeife Adeoye, a Nigerian “creative-preneur” and founder of Remote WorkHER, who publicly shares how she built a multi-million‑naira online empire made a tweet in which this line would be pulled from: “If you’ve not made money online yet, it’s either you’re lazy or you don’t know what you’re doing.” Further reading that access to wealth causes oversimplification. Making money that’s such a heavily layered activity, even as a concept, is being recognized as just a numbers game where dismissal of talent, resource access, opportunity, network, mental health, privilege—all matter. That kind of framing gaslights people facing real barriers and ignores the realistic experience behind nine‑figure earnings. It pressures everyone to hustle harder, pretend effort equals absence of struggle. If you hadn’t cracked the algorithm by next week? Adeife says you’re the problem. And the worst part? That mindset is sold as motivational, but feels like public shaming wrapped in aspirational packaging.

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Tiktok, on the other hand, offers a different approach in my experience. On my for you page I witness at least 5 people reiterating the same point from the same view in a 30-minute scroll, bar for bar, with words changing— a continuous cycle of the same conversation. Perhaps I should get off my phone but also, I would like to assume that it is because each individual witnessed these concepts in conversation causing their need to prop up a phone and express themselves in a bid to either join the discussion trend whether to simply express opinions or gain traction for monetary gain, or to just do numbers. 

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Although, I won’t say the reiteration of thoughts is a current phenomenon, learning about human behavior related theories, we know of a hand-pouring amount of scholars saying the same thing in different ways like the behavioural change models which all talk about how human beings are affected by society, their perception and personal gain, all in different wordings, but the accessibility of the information differentiates then from now. The presence of the conversation is never ending and yet more unfulfilling each time it is raised or maybe fulfilling to some extent I suppose, your voice is to be heard by someone and maybe, it’s not me on some occasions. 

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We often talk about the power of self-expression— how everyone “deserves a voice.” But what does it mean when every voice must be optimized  for engagement? When every thought is prepped for virality? When silence feels like failure? The democratic promise of the internet has, in many ways, morphed into a dystopian demand for constant performance. Expression is unintended for articulation and catered to visibility.

Initially, at the peak of the internet, the emotion generated after reading words were organic— the words were written from a place of genuine interest and the emotion from the audience wasn’t particularly targeted to gather such. I do know this is still present but the majority counters the “authentic”. As an internet and general talkative myself, I cannot say spoken words are not essential for people to relate to and feel seen, what else is the world wide web for?

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Ice Baby and Buggy are two brothers from Staten Island, New York, and are better known as the G4 Boyz. Their journey into music began with the release of their debut single, "Bricks," back in 2013. Establishing their sound of 'scam rap', the two Drill artists entered the scene with their unique style to the genre.

Since their arrival, they've had success with songs such as "Patek Phillipe", which was the first hit the duo had and helped establish their presence on the NY Drill scene. As well as "Local Scammer which saw them team up with the UK's G4 Choppa. 

The duo's journey into music was always bound to happen, given their heritage from Ghana and Nigeria, which came from both their parents. The two spent time on the continent, gaining an appreciation and knowledge of the musical sounds that originated from West Africa. As brothers, they spent their time creating content online, not really thinking much about their musical careers. The encouragement from others around them led them to experiment, and they began filming videos and sharing their content online, which eventually became a way for them to express themselves and share their experiences as African Americans growing up in their particular environment. 

A decade after arriving on the scene, their entire ethos is rooted in authenticity and not trying to be something they are not. "When it comes to drill, it tends to be heavily rooted in the violence of it all, but for us, that wasn't what we wanted it to be about. We want to discuss what's truly happening in the real world, in our culture." Ice Baby shares with me what defines 'scam rap' and how it is recognised as its distinct sound.

Speaking to both Ice Baby and Buggy with the successes they have had in their music and other creative endevoers that have included fashion and film, the two are all about lifting their culture and empowering what it means to who they are and how they have been able to navigate their careers and still maintain their authenticity as players in the New York Drill scene.

So first of all, how did you guys start making music together, and what was the initial idea that sparked this music project?

Ice Baby: So, we've always been into music because of our Nigerian and Ghanaian culture. My mom, dad, uncle and our older brother are playing music around us.  It was just something that naturally came to us, allowing us to do music. What we always wanted to represent when we were making music was to incorporate what was happening in our lives and what we were hearing at the time. So, when we came, we always came as the representative of being Africans born in America and the experience of being Africans raised in America and not being accepted. So, music was our comfort, allowing us to express how we felt during difficult times.

How did the process of making music together begin for the two of you, and did it become something you wanted to do together?

Buggy: For us, we've always been multi-talented. Even though we were born in New York, my mother sent us to Africa when we were very young because she wanted us to learn about our culture and roots and have that grounding. We first started vlogging together and were sharing what we had going on; then, people started telling us we should try our hand at music. So naturally, we started doing our thing.

With coining your sound as 'scam rap', how did you come to develop and create what that would be?  

Ice Baby: When it comes from us, it stems from our culture; it comes from hearing Fela and other legendary artists we grew up with. It's the vibe, the energy, and being competitive. As Nigerians and Ghanaians, we have always been competitive, whether in sports, academics, or fashion. We don't follow other people's movements; we are trendsetters, setting the tone for what we want to do. When it comes to drill, it tends to be heavily rooted in the violence of it all, but for us, that wasn't what we wanted it to be about. We want to discuss what's truly happening in the real world, in our culture, and in American culture. What we do is speak about empowering our people; it stems from our experiences, and that's why we've developed this new sound.

Getting from that point to where you are now, what does that look like for the two of you, and how has your sound grown from the first single up until now?

Ice Baby: Our music is still a fresh sound that the industry is not yet accustomed to. Therefore, it's challenging to put us in certain situations because they're accustomed to presenting themselves in a certain way and discussing specific topics. So, when we start speaking about what we speak about, it sounds so different to what people expect. And the reality is that the content we discuss, when compared to the current content out there, as we grow, we're working with new sounds and new energy. As you can see, there is a distinct difference between "Patek Philippe" and a "Local Scammer". One thing about my brother is that we have always found ways to make our sound fresh and new every single time we're about to roll out something new, which is what's coming next.

Having released your last album, Glitch Boyz, last year, what would you say has changed in that time, and what can you tell us about the music you're making now?

Buggy: So, with our sounds, what happens is that a lot of people on the internet start to steal them and take from them. We're always finding new ways to deliver the music in different ways. Right now, I can't tell you what that sounds like because if I tell you the source, people will be ready for the taking. So you have to wait and see how we do it. But know that we're cooking up a brand-new sound, and people will enjoy and have fun with it. We strive to create music that people can relate to while also having fun with it because life is hard. We aim to create something that brings people joy and makes them feel good. We have just returned from Nigeria and Ghana, so we worked with many new people. We can't say who yet, but know that the sounds are sounding, and the vibe is vibing.

Without revealing too much or saying too much, where do you feel your particular sound is going?

Our sound? It's evolving — but it's still G4 to the core. Drill, trap, afro-fusion — we blend it all. We possess that lifestyle energy, but we also bring substance. Expect more cultural flavour, more global sounds, and more melodies, but still raw. We are not chasing trends. We are setting them. Expect the unexpected, as we have some spiritual tracks coming too—same flex, but with deeper layers. Chop life, praise God, and count blessings. Simple.

You also have creative interests that you pursue outside of music, and fashion is a significant part of how you represent yourselves. So, how does that come to be a part of your creative identity?

Buddy: As my brother said before, we don't follow trends because, because of our trauma of coming from a culture where people make fun of us, we don't want to be like everybody else. Growing up, Prada was a brand that always felt like it represented what it meant to have wealth and status. There was a time when everyone was wearing Prada, but then it was phased out, and people transitioned to newer brands. We just started wearing Prada all over again, and there was a silhouette called American Cups that they no longer make. However, we started wearing it again, and we began to go viral on the internet for doing so, to the point that Prada brought it back. And so, for us, it wasn't even about the fact that we were wearing Prada again. Still, more importantly, we were able to establish that we could afford it. We were able to express ourselves in that way; we take that very seriously when it comes to how we dress and how we look; because of our personal PTSD of people making fun of Africans, we always tell ourselves we're going to dress nicely no matter what that's and why we so into fashion now.

Ice Baby: As far as fashion and style, we take fashion very seriously. For me, with Prada, it was more about the cut, the look, and the silhouette; it was different from everybody else because it puts you in elite status. I always wanted to be represented because of the trauma of being disrespected, and we had to fight back. For us, fashion and how we dressed were ways we could express ourselves and move past some of the things we went through. We have to do everything differently, and that helps us in our music because we represent a whole type of way. People do Dior, they do Gucci, but Prada makes us feel something. I feel connected to it.

What is next for you both?

Buggy: Currently, we're focusing on expanding this movement globally. G4ChopLife season never stops — we have new heat loading, more anthems, and more sauce. We've been cooking up heavy, stacking unreleased tracks and lining up collaborations with some big names from the UK to Lagos. We're looking to shake up the summer with some international bangers. You already know the vibes — more money talk, more inspiration talk, but still.

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The 31st annual Essence Festival of Culture concluded this past weekend in New Orleans, but the conversations surrounding this year's event extend far beyond the music and empowerment sessions. What has historically been a celebration of Black joy, artistry, and resilience is now grappling with questions of identity, corporate responsibility, and community ownership that reflect broader tensions within Black America.

Running from July 4-6 with the theme "We Are 'Made Like This,'" the festival featured a star-studded lineup including Boyz II Men, Maxwell, Nas, and Summer Walker, alongside a poignant tribute to Quincy Jones. Yet behind the glittering performances and inspiring panels, a different story was unfolding, one of decreased attendance, controversial sponsorships, and heated debates about the festival's evolving cultural focus.

Festival leaders acknowledged lower attendance this year during a press conference, with social media lighting up with reactions about smaller crowds and lower energy. While organizers attributed the dip to post-30th anniversary expectations and external factors like inflation and rising travel costs, the reality appears more complex.

The festival has reported lower ticket sales and vendors opting out following backlash for continued partnership with Target, pointing to a controversy that has dominated much of the conversation around this year's event. The timing, falling on July 4th weekend certainly didn't help, but festival insiders suggest the issues run deeper than scheduling.

At the heart of the festival's struggles lies its continued partnership with Target, a retailer that has become the subject of an intensive boycott campaign within the Black community. Civil rights groups announced a boycott of Target stores across the U.S. beginning on February 1, after the retail giant said it would end diversity, equity and inclusion, or DEI, initiatives aimed at promoting and hiring more women and people from protected minority groups.

The boycott, led by prominent figures including pastor Jamal Bryant, who notes that Black people spend $12 million a day at the giant retailer, has gained significant traction. Over 130,000 people have signed up to participate so far, with demands including Target completely restoring its commitments to DEI and honoring a previous pledge to spend over $2 billion with Black-owned businesses by the end of 2025.

The impact has been measurable. Black and Hispanic shoppers, once among Target's most loyal demographics, began walking away. Many cited disappointment in the brand's departure from values they believed in. For many festival-goers, seeing Target prominently featured as a sponsor felt like a betrayal of the community's values.

According to social media discussions, like 90% of the 2024 sponsors dropped out in 2025, most likely due to anti-DEI sentiment, leaving the festival with fewer corporate partners and forcing organizers to maintain relationships with controversial sponsors like Target.

The festival's challenges extend to its vendor marketplace, traditionally a cornerstone of the event that showcases Black-owned businesses. Many New Orleans vendors expressed disappointment with not being chosen this year, with festival organizers noting they received thousands of applications for just over 200 vendor spots.

This vendor selection process has become another flashpoint for criticism, with some community members arguing that the festival has moved away from supporting local and African American businesses in favor of vendors that align with its broader diaspora focus. The reduction in vendor participation also impacts the festival's economic footprint in New Orleans, where the event typically generates significant revenue for local businesses.

The festival's struggles reflect broader challenges facing Black cultural events in an increasingly polarized environment. As corporations retreat from DEI initiatives amid political pressure, events like Essence Festival find themselves caught between their community's values and the reality of corporate sponsorship.

Some Black business owners have expressed concern that boycotts of companies like Target could hurt Black businesses that sell through these retailers, highlighting the complex economic relationships at play. The festival's organizers face the difficult task of balancing community expectations with financial realities.

The festival's response to these challenges will likely shape not only its own future but also set precedents for how Black cultural events navigate similar tensions between community values and corporate relationships. As one of the longest-running and most significant Black cultural events in America, Essence Festival's evolution reflects broader questions about identity, authenticity, and community ownership in contemporary Black America.

The 2025 festival may have concluded, but the conversations it has sparked about cultural identity, corporate responsibility, and community values are far from over. In many ways, these debates represent the essence of what the festival was always meant to be, a space for Black voices to be heard, even when they don't always agree.

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Lagos’leading creative convention returns this July, for its 4th edition with a boldvision for African innovation across art, fashion, film, and music. Under thevisionary, cinematic theme, “Este Fuego” which means “This Fire”, VVS Lagos deepens its missionto build a sustainable, unified creative ecosystem, one where Africanexcellence is not just celebrated, but structurally supported.

“Este Fuego isnot a trend, it’s our artistic expressions told unapologetically,” says Ifeanyi Nwune, founder of VVS Lagos. “Thisfire is carried by those who have walked throughit, and who now shape the future with clarity, intention, and community.”

The Engineer-turned-Fashiondesigner, and Music executive whose work has graced figures from Davido to StevieWonder, launched VVS in 2022 encouraging African creatives to no longer rely onexternal validation to shine.

Rootedin a continent-wide creative awakening, the Pan African creative society, forthe first time, features multidimensionalprogramming and creative outputs across five powerful pillars: fashion, art, film, music, and technology.

Theweek-long festival between the 7th to 13th of July 2025, will feature Thought-LeadershipConversations, Art Exhibitions, Film Screenings in collaboration with AFRIFF, and its Future Labs Grants & Mentorship Programme in partnership with The Goodco, supporting emergingcreatives. It concludes on a high note with a High Concept Fashion Show and theunveil of a legacy music album featuring Nigeria’s leading music artistesincluding Runtown, Pretty Boy DO, Boj,Jeriq, Blnde, Siraheem and more.

Setwithin the iconic Federal Palace Hotel, Nahous stands as a contemporary bridge to heritage, a space steeped in the legacy of Festac ’77, where African culturalsovereignty was once globally staged. Its selection as a VVS 2025 key venue isboth symbolic and intentional honouring past revolutions while igniting newones.

Anchoredin Lagos as both spiritual and cultural capital, VVS Lagos offers a platformfor collaboration, visibility, and long-term growth across the global Africancreative industry.

Aligning with national policy on creative tourism globally, heritage preservation and job creation, VVS Lagos isbacked by the Lagos State Govt, Lagos State Tourism board and the FederalMinistry of Arts, Culture, Tourism and the Creative Economy (FMACTCE).

VVS Lagos has grown into a beaconfor multi-hyphenate talent, accelerating African creative ascension throughnarrative-driven experiences, and community-led infrastructure.

With strategic partners including Nahous, Glenfiddich Whiskey, Good Co, Le drop Nigeria, Topship, British Council, MTN and the Africa  International Film Festival (AFRIFF), VVSLagos is building not just events, but enduring legacy and creative economypathways.

“VVS Lagos is not just my vision, itis our community fire and I’mjust fanning the flames,” says Ifeanyi Nwune. “Every partner, artist, andparticipant in this journey expands the network of descendants reclaimingcreative power. This is above an event. This is a movement shaping the futureof African creative infrastructure.”

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Hank Willis Thomas and Liu Shiming curated by Emann Odufu

When American poet Ocean Vuong appeared as a guest speaker at Oprah Winfrey's book club, he posed a profound question: "How do I make do with this body if I can't leave it?" while layering the argument that ordinary life of those who can not easily escape their realities is far more interesting than the typical heroic tale. In today's digital landscape, where we often celebrate escapism and overlook the everyday people, an exhibition such as 'People Everyday' by Hank Willis Thomas and Liu Shiming serves as a crucial reminder of our shared humanity.

On an early Monday morning, Deeds Magazine met with curator Emann Odufu at the Liu Shiming Art foundation to dwell into the lastest exhibition visible until July 31st, and uncover how selected artworks, sculptures and installations occupy the gallery’s transformative space.

As we entered the fifth floor of the Manhattan building, crisp white walls surrounded us with a glimpse of the exhibition peeking through at the right corner. It was only when one managed to write down half of an email address on the visitor list that curator Emann appeared out of nowhere from the hidden chambers of the exhibition, embracing our presence with a warm greeting. At an instant, we found ourselves in a narrow hallway next to the entrance, spotlighting the head statue of Liu Shiming at its end, while his journey from Beijing to spending twenty years in rural China was scripted on the wall beside him. Similarly to Hank's fascination with common people, the late artist Liu's pursuit bled into the ordinary pace of his environment. As China rapidly developed and saw change, so did his subjects, never undermining the people who made this country their home, and who brought meaning to their livelyhood.

“It is a quiet resistance,” explains Emann while guiding us through the first portion of the exhibition. We’re both figuratively and metaphorically peeling away a poetic ensemble of fragmented pieces of history, whether it is Hank’s personification of the Atlantic slave trade in carefully-crafted collages and how Africans were transported through waters, or the regard of flight by Liu, envisioning a community or a group of people in total liberation. However, this is both the beauty and wonders that roam around the gallery at present time as the observer is left free to make its own perception of the message, rather than it being forced upon us with direct symbolism. 

To understand the concept of ‘People Everyday,’ this would bring us to the 1969 song ‘Everyday People’ by Sly and the Family Stone, or perhaps its offspring, ‘People Everyday’ by Arrested Development released in the early 90s. During their time, both tracks embedded a powerful musical contribution; however, for this generation, the meaning behind the lyrics speak volume. It is a call to action, or better said, an invitation to bring back balance in our lives as we may have lost our human touch. When we ask Emann why it is important to highlight everyday life, he empathizes that political sentiments get put above human elements. As he walks us through the second segment of the show, the overall picture gets clearer and through its extension, we are made aware that as much as Hank and Liu want to portray a poetic tale, they also demand for change through their art.

This does not necessarily mean that both artists share the same viewpoint on preservation as Liu’s sculptures to the naked eye appear to be physically collapsing. Mainly made of bronze, it does make one question if the use of similar materials bound to rust, is a process we ought to accept as Liu didn’t look to immortalize his subjects and instead, wanted to envision the body as it comes; limiting and with all of its flaws. Whereas Hank’s approach, on the other hand, can be argued to be the opposite. In its polished and luminous lights, apparently trying to uphold a lasting impression, in all of its glory and modernism, regardless of the passing of time. We see a gap closing in the artists’ work of art trying to articulate the interconnection of our world dating centuries ago. Whether in light of a dark past or trading routes, Hank and Liu draw the passage for us to follow, underlining how truly interactive our ancestors have always been with one another.

‘People Everyday’ is two worlds colliding- the past and the present, two generations apart, one corner of the world crashing with the other, as we found ourselves split in the middle, having to make amends with the small yet important details of life often dismissed. In an era of division and strong-opinionation, it is by looking through not only our behavioural; but also, our use of space and time, that we may embrace our commonalities again and recognize that we hold the same hope for the world. Although we may be on different paths, inevitably our destination is the same and ‘People Everyday’ does an excellent job at bringing forth the human condition.

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“Red Weather” is a protest in silence. A memory in motion. A visual poem made of colour, stillness, and obsession. It’s about balancing chaos and calm through styling, direction, and raw presence. I created this as both a personal offering and a universal reflection, shot entirely on a compact camera.

1.   Tell us about “Red Weather”, and what inspired it? 

Red Weather is a very personal visual project, both a fashion story and an emotional timestamp. It was born during a difficult period in my life, where I was navigating emotional weight, uncertainty, and stillness. I found myself creating not from ease, but from something raw. I shot it during an actual rainstorm— no big setups, just me, my compact camera, and a heavy sky. And ended up inspiring the project The red fabric and styling symbolized protest, resistance, softness, identity. It became a conversation between the weather outside and the storm within.

2.   How did you get started? Also What is your creative process like ? 

I started from instinct, not with formal training, but from a deep urge to express through visuals. Over time, I leaned into creative direction, styling, and storytelling. I don’t always have big equipment or full teams, but I always have a vision.

3.   Do you have any favorite projects and what makes it special to you? 

Red Weather is definitely one. Not because it’s perfect but because it’s real. I made it during a storm, literally and metaphorically, and it made me trust myself more.

Another one is Ode to Ibadan— a fashion film and photo project I made to honor where I’m from. It’s a love letter to Ibadan, to tradition, and to evolving identity. I’m very proud of it because it felt like a promise to tell stories that matter to me.

4.   Do you have any upcoming projects you would want to share with us ?

Yes, I’m currently working on a new visual story that explores the connection between hair and identity— how hair carries memory, power, and presence. It’s more than just aesthetics for me; it’s about the emotional relationship we have with our hair, especially within African culture— the rituals, the rebellion, and the quiet beauty in it all.I’m approaching it in a raw, visual way that allows hair to speak for itself almost like a language between the body and the world. More than anything, I’m focused on building a world— one that reflects my perspective as a Nigerian creative who believes deeply in storytelling, even with limited tools.

Styled by: @eso.by.isha  

Hair Stylist: @irun_by_z  

Accessories: @arynluxe  

Talents: @jhenetheodore, @nOrthann 

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There was a time when music had weight. Literally.

Vinyl records go way back. Before now, when listeners access music through digital formats and can shuffle playlists or dance to the tune of algorithms feeding us the next “vibe” in music, there was vinyl. It wasn’t merely another music format. In fact, vinyl records give music a warmer, more natural sound than digital music formats. It was music in rich depths. It made the listening experience golden. In today’s hyper-digitized world where even silence feels monetized, it’s time we revisit what vinyl was really about: presence.

Vinyls put a spin on the way music was consumed, especially at home. Putting on a record wasn’t a passive activity, considering that it often demanded the intentional act of choosing it. You dropped the needle and let it play — no skipping, no reordering, no background noise. Just you and the sound. The warmth streaming out from the voices of veteran musicians who owned the times. The auditory experience that vinyls grant you is to take you back in time to when the songs were, demanding you stop whatever you were doing and feel something. Vinyl didn’t just let you hear music. It lets you live in it.

For newer generations whose initial exposure to music was through CDs and other digital formats, vinyl is re-entering the chat. From its revival in the past decade, vinyl is becoming the bestselling physical format for recorded music today. 

The vinyl renaissance is a quiet protest against fast content and its consequence, the disposable culture. The physical thrill it offers stands against the idea that music should be easy to consume and even easier to forget.

People are buying records again not just for the sound, but for the experience. You sit with an album. You stay for side B. You get up to flip it over. Acts that come together to say about patience, about care, about listening with your whole chest.

Vinyl is how music says: Slow down. I’m not done with you yet.

And maybe that’s what makes it feel so radical today. In a world that pushes us to consume more, faster, louder — vinyl asks us to just… be. To sit still. To listen all the way through. To treat music like a body of work again, not background noise for productivity.

So yes, the vinyl revival is cool. But it’s also a reminder that some of the best things — music, connection, memories — aren’t meant to be streamed and forgotten. They’re meant to be held, lived with, and replayed over and over

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When the Hennessy brand made its presence known in Nigeria back in 1921, little was known about how culturally relevant the cognac would become. Fast forward many decades to a time when Nigeria’s hip-hop scene and nightlife were still emerging—Hennessy carved out a space for a generation hungry for self-expression. The brand began being name-dropped in songs like Olu Maintain’s hit “Yahooze” and even in early 2000s movies, establishing itself as something to watch out for.

The brand helped shape it. From cyphers to concerts, it became an emblem for the bold: those often overlooked, hedonistic, and lovers of hip-hop.

Founded in 1765, Hennessy quickly became the world’s leading exporter of brandy by the 1840s and has maintained that position ever since. As part of its commercialization, it soon found cultural relevance among African-American communities, particularly targeting hip-hop and other minority audiences.

To become a staple in Nigeria, it tapped into the hip-hop market, aligning with a genre that was often marginalized. Here, Hennessy found its niche. In 2007, Hennessy Artistry started as a cocktail-mixing contest among renowned bartenders. However, it soon evolved into a music platform that nurtured diverse collaborations between artists. From this platform came the Cyphers, VS Class, and Hennessy Artistry Finale concerts—all of which played a key role in revitalizing Nigeria’s hip-hop scene.

The VS Class emerged from the Cypher as a freestyle battle space for emerging rappers. Winners were often spotlighted, launching their careers and propelling them toward mainstream success. With the Cypher and VS Class coexisting, the two platforms arguably became rites of passage for any hip-hop artist looking to break into the industry.

As far back as 2014, Hennessy tapped some of the country’s biggest musicians—like Tuface, Wizkid, D’banj, M.I, Naeto C, Banky W, Ice Prince, Sir Shina Peters, and many others—for Hennessy-tagged events ranging from club tours to concerts, promoting nightlife and solidifying the brand’s presence.

To this day, Hennessy continues to influence popular music just as it did in the 2000s, when artists frequently name-dropped the brand in songs. Today, artists like Adekunle Gold, Ruger, and BNXN carry on that legacy.

The brand also shifted perceptions among the younger demographic by tapping into sports. In 2023, it introduced the “In The Paint” initiative to the Nigerian landscape. Originally launched in 2021 in partnership with the NBA, the initiative aimed to bridge sports (specifically basketball) and the arts, fostering community and positivity.

When “In The Paint” arrived in Nigeria in 2022, it focused on refurbishing rundown basketball courts, starting in Lagos. In 2022, under the leadership of Joakim Noah, visual artist Osas Seven painted a basketball court in Festac. The following year, 2023, Noah oversaw another court transformation in Victoria Island. In 2024, Nigerian-based artist Kaylion refurbished a basketball court in Port Harcourt.

In addition, Hennessy tapped into fashion, curating events that blended fashion, sports, and community. Following the 2023 "In The Paint" initiative, guests at the basketball matches were dressed in activewear-inspired outfits. When the brand partnered with the NBA for global marketing, it hosted a watch party with a dress code called "Courtside High Fashion." Most recently, at the Hennessy Artistry event held in May, the brand collaborated with Severe Nature, a Nigerian streetwear brand, to release jerseys and t-shirts featuring Hennessy’s trademark slogan, "Made For More." These efforts have helped spark a cultural revolution, blending fashion, sports, and community.

For nightlife, the brand has actively targeted the ever-growing scene in the country. In 2021, the brand celebrated its 100th year in Nigeria with the introduction of a newly limited edition bottle design of the Hennessy V.S.O.P Privilege, and across over 2,000 clubs in Lagos, the Hennessy cognac is a staple and has contributed largely to promoting bottle culture.

Lately, Hennessy continues to bring together DJs, artists, and creatives with an array of nightlife-focused events. From the Cultur FM and Central TV event held back in January, to the recently held Hennessy Artistry Reboot, which took place back in May. 

After years of shaping and reflecting cultural trends, Hennessy has secured an unshakable place in Nigeria’s cultural identity. It has become more than a cognac—it stands as a symbol of expression, unity, and empowerment. What truly sets Hennessy apart is its ability to evolve with each generation, not just observing culture, but helping to create it. As Nigeria’s story continues to unfold, Hennessy remains not just present, but influential—driving the rhythm of progress, connection, and creative spirit."

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I was thirteen years old when I finally parsed the meaning of “objectification.” Before then it had been for me one of those words adults trotted out with much verve, which is to say an obviously loaded word. Despite my understanding of the word’s weight, its apparent gravitas, I could not for the life of me parse its meaning. Make no mistake, I had on countless occasions looked it up in the dictionary with the hope that its meaning, seeing my earnestness, would make itself manifest to me. And yet, every time I searched its meaning in my mother’s Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary, I was left stupefied: how can a human be reduced to an object? What does that even mean?

The answer would come to me when, at my behest, after the completion of my junior secondary school education, my parents switched my school. I used to be the kind of kid some would refer to as shielded. Not that I ever felt that way, but in hindsight, I can see how my life at the time fit into a smattering of activities drawn up by my parents. Nothing unusual: school, church, home, and the occasional visit from friends. I cannot in good faith say that I read my life as being monotonous, something in my subconscious however yearned for a disruption of my routine. It was this longing, this implacable feeling, that prompted me to hound my parents, with ceaseless pleas until they gave in and switched my schools.

My new school was big, and sprawling, not just in the literal sense but in the eclectic medley of personalities that constituted its ranks. Unlike my former Christian school where everyone seemed to have been plucked from the same demographic, people here were from everywhere. Crucially, however, the boys in this new school were different, wilder, brimming with a boundless capacity for lewdness. My perception of these new boys did not derive from having been a prude in my former school. My peers in my former school, across genders, did occasionally amuse themselves with ribald conversations. But it was always lacquered in the amused curiosity of young people newly discovering this wonderful concept called sexuality. And so, the reality of my new school would hit me with the forcefulness of a train moving at full velocity. 

The boys in this new school were a different breed; regular in every other way but their perception of the female gender. All women, except family and a few platonic friends, were considered a corporeal pastiche, a collection of parts—breasts, lips, buttocks, thighs—which, by some great acts of providence—just so happen to be able to perform human functions. Slim girls were viciously excoriated with invectives such as “plywood” or “ironing board.” Saggy breasts were considered anathema. Small ones were equally derided. One time, a boy quipped about how a girl’s breasts resembled pimples and “joked” about how they might disappear if she took antibiotics. Girls were judged against pornstars with bulbous breasts and cinched waists. The fact that these pornstars had undergone cosmetic treatment seemed to be lost on them. Even the girls who fit their insular definition of attractiveness were analyzed and compared with the same insouciance that tech YouTubers reviewed gadgets.  

Seeing Tems, weeks ago, issue a fierce rebuttal to a man who had objectified her through a garish tweet, dredged up those memories from my childhood, the ones that conferred me with a palpable understanding of objectification. The casual wickedness and jarring obscenity of the concept. How it possesses the uncanny ability to flatten people, especially women who had rich, textured lives, into a pallid portrait of their bodies. The tweet in isolation was abhorrent enough. But it goes beyond that: a horde of men camped in the comment section and quotes, firing off even more inane opinions, seemingly without the faintest idea of the weirdness, for lack of a better word, of their conduct. The tweet has been viewed some 6.2 million times on X. It also comes in the wake of a disturbing trend that has seen a horde of men realize their perverted desires toward women by putting AI tools to work. These men have leveraged AI to strip women, commandeer them into obscene poses, and dress them to suit their desires. It’s not like any of this is new, deep fakes and more crude tools like Photoshop have forever been used by degenerates to satiate their depraved imaginations. AI has however provided the opportunity to act on these impulses with unprecedented ease and speed. 

The Atlantic’s Sophie Gilbert in her new book  Girl on Girl, argues, with bracing clarity, that in the late 90s and the early aughts, women increasingly pivoted away from feminism and towards post-feminism, whose focus on individual empowerment and an embrace of female sexuality as a form of power, put it odds with feminism, which favors collective effort and vociferous criticism of the patriarchy. Gilbert notes that despite the best efforts of post-feminists at placating the patriarchy, what resulted was an obsessive policing of women’s bodies, especially in pop culture where it seemed that women’s bodies served little function other than acting as a canvas on which society expresses its anxieties and whims and stereotypes. And so, over the years, the quintessential female body has shifted from curvaceously slim, to gaunt, to “curvy like the Kardashians,” and now, with the advent of weight loss drugs a return to skinny seems to be in short order. Women’s bodies are subject to intense scrutiny based on factors that are constantly in flux, and yet we wonder why eating disorders disproportionately affect women. 

In Gia Tolentino’s incisive essay, The Rage of The Incels, she similarly contends that male power “has chained all of human society to the idea that women are decorative sexual objects, and that male worth is measured by how good-looking a woman they acquire.” Her assessment is beyond apt. On social media, as in the case with Tems, we regularly see stupefying opinions from men who critique women for attractiveness, with a zeal that makes one wonder if they were, unbeknownst to us, elected to perform that role. The reality is more simple: we live in a world where women are seen as sexual objects. It’s not just that these men are acting with callousness—that is true—but the deeper issue is that these men do not even consider women outside of the value of their corporeality, which is to say they see women simply as objects. It’s why they feel no shame, or compunction when they cruelly pick apart women’s features and undress them with AI: they simply cannot fathom that women are real people, with feelings and dreams and ineffable qualities that transcend their sexual potential.

Rick Owens’ TEMPLE OF LOVE SS26 men’s show at Palais de Tokyo staged in the museum’s forecourt during Paris Fashion Week stood out precisely because of its bold embrace of spectacle. In an era where fashion shows increasingly eschew idiosyncrasy in favor of more hemmed-in approaches, Owens, ever the iconoclast, enacted the quirkiest show of the season. 

This time, the models emerged from water. In what read as a kind of baptismal procession, they stepped out of the fountain beneath a brutal summer sun, bodies drenched, platforms soaked, silhouettes dragging trails of water along the stone. The image was heavy with symbolism: rebirth, exposure, vulnerability. Owens himself described it as: “a baptism of love” a phrase he reiterated in an interview with dazed magazine, framing the show as something almost spiritual in its conception.

Inside, paintings by Gustave Moreau lined the rooms, while outside, the brutalist expanse of Palais de Tokyo— its concrete walls, wide stone stairs, and open sky became both stage and set. It felt industrial, sacred, and entirely intentional. Owens continues to use this venue not just as a backdrop, but as an active collaborator in the storytelling of love. The architecture echoed the severity of the garments, turning each step and climb into a kind of ceremony.

But amid all this intensity, there was subversion too. Perhaps the most unexpected feature was a statue, seemingly modeled after Owens himself, casually urinating into the same space where the models were performing this act of rebirth. The statue streamed uninterrupted for the duration of the show. It was impossible to unsee and deliberately so. At a moment when everything else was poised and profound, this statue made space for irreverence, for absurdity, and for a wink at Owens’ own mythology. It made the tone more dimensional. It reminded us that even in his most ambitious gestures, Owens refuses to be consumed by self-importance. As he said in a letter distributed to guests just prior to his S/S 2026 menswear show “A retrospective summons up thoughts of peaking, finality and decline… I was delighted to lean into that.”

There were quieter choices, too. Fog moved with intention, timed to veil and reveal each model like a curtain of smoke. Lighting was natural and harsh, uncompromising in its honesty. There was no music, just the sound of water and movement. Everything was elemental. And the models became part of it, folding into the rhythm of stone, sun, and steam.

While other designers leaned into AI-enhanced storytelling, digital backdrops, and overstimulation this season, Rick Owens used nothing but bodies, water, and architecture to create tension, humor, and release. In doing so, he reminded us that stillness can be cinematic, that space can be narrative, and that sometimes the most compelling performance is one that dares to do less.

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The lives of entertainers are often shrouded by the content they put out. Music, movies, etc., all create a mental picture that compels you to fixate or ascribe personality traits based on the nature of the content, so we end up viewing them as a reflection of what we see, making assumptions about who they are in real life. There’s a sense of allure and intrigue that comes with breaking down those walls and truly seeing them for who they are. In this piece, we try to break down some of these walls, exposing the personality of one of Nigeria’s most talented vocalists.

Kahren is an emerging talent, trying to navigate the complexities and exigencies of Nigeria’s dynamic musical industry. Here, we look beneath the sound and rhythm, trying to understand who she is. In our discovery, we find a woman who is shaped by emotion, passion, and experience.  

Kahren (Anyanwu, Chisom Somto) is a multi-talented singer and songwriter. Residing in Lagos State, her music is indicative of diversity, embracing and integrating sounds from different genres. She brings a pristine and distinctive interpretation of these genres, creating something that is very niche.

Like everyone, Kahren occasionally has bouts that encompass doubts. “The journey hasn’t been straight. There are times I stepped away from music completely, and times when I wasn’t sure if I was meant to do this.” These questions creep in from time to time, and Kahren, like everyone, has experienced moments of partial or complete abstinence. However, her commitment has been stern, and her talent has given her the confidence she deserves. “Anytime I record and hear my own music back, something settles in me.” Her passions go beyond music, and when she’s not in the studio, she is fascinated by the intrigue and lure of makeup artistry. She “genuinely enjoys it,” and it is interesting to see that Kahren harbours passions outside the scope of melodies and lyrics. So, she’s always immersing herself in makeup content, occasionally finding interests that compel her to transform her face.

Her inflection point, that key moment, cannot be reduced to a singular instant but is a culmination of various experiences. For her, it was a journey, a sequence of constantly immersing herself in her talent that consolidated her passion to follow this path. “For me, I’d say recording and hearing back most of my songs is what really brought the feeling together.” As she describes, “It wasn’t a single moment, but those little moments in the studio where it just sounds right.” It is a classic tale of trusting the process and seeing where it lands you. For Kahren, music was not a trend to follow or a decision made out of fervent caprice. It was a process, and for her, “that’s when it all clicks.”

One’s musical proclivities may not always be a direct indication of a person’s personality or disposition. That noticeable contrast often creates a sense of intrigue and perplexity. For Kahren, she maintains a chill disposition, being both introverted and observant. However, her personality may also be fluid, depending on the setting and the people she’s surrounded by. So, Kahren is “a bit of both.” Most of all, she likes to create and experience moments where she can “let loose, have fun, and do silly or funny stuff.”

Kahren’s musical fluidity may be a result of her general receptivity to music. There is no definitive space or bubble. She enjoys what she likes, and that can be anything. So, although she may show a particular interest in R&B and neo-soul, she still listens to a lot of other genres. Her diversification has enabled her to collaborate with other famous names like Tems, ShowDemCamp, and Odeal. She also speaks about music from the early 2000s, which was inspired by a melange of different genres, the aggressive rise of digital media and technology, and shifts in mainstream pop culture. These influences inform her playlists, so her personal music library is both chaotic and personal. From Lola Young to Beyoncé, early 2000s jams, indie folk, and random movie soundtracks, it is indicative of a person who is constantly seeking inspiration. She especially loves “Circle” by Post Malone and “Charlie Brown” by Coldplay, because “those songs just do something to me.”

Her creative process follows a systematic guide depending on the trigger. “It starts with a melody. I find the melody first, then I trace it with words. Sometimes, I create the beat in my head; other times, I listen to a beat and build from there. I like to make sure everything feels right and structured, but still natural, before I record.”

If you’re wondering what weird talent she might have, Kahren is very flexible. “I can fold my arms and take my hand all the way to my back.”

Consistency and perseverance with a touch of personality are often the accredited hallmarks to succeeding in the music industry. Kahren internalises these qualities, making her rise to fame even more assured. Getting to know her beyond her voice has put things into perspective, especially in terms of her visual presence and voice. We’re excited—ecstatic—to see what the future holds and where her journey might take her.

Watch out for Kahren!

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When Dina Ayada emerged on the musical scene, it was with a freestyle on TikTok that went viral and became her breakout single, "Miles Away". This, including "Popular" and "Games", is one of the few tracks that have gained significant popularity on the platform. The young Belgian singer started making music with her brother by way of creative expression before she started sharing some of her stuff on TikTok, which subsequently took off as audiences from all over came to discover her sound, which is a blend of various genres from hyper-pop to hip-hop, to R&B with a whole lot of energy that carries through her music.

Born and raised in Belgium with North African heritage, Dina has something to say with her music, and she is letting her authenticity shine through in everything she offers. The past few years of her career have seen her release 2023's SUPERSTAR! and 2024's The Script, her two EPs that have introduced her artistry to the world in a way that feels new and refreshing. Now gearing up for the release of her album, she is elevating and stepping up in every way possible.

As we speak with Dina, we touch on everything from her career to embracing her North African Heritage, the upcoming album, what it means to embrace one's truth, and more.

First, how was your first introduction to music as something you had an interest in?

Music has always been a part of my life. My dad would play Arabic music around the house, and I'd be singing along before I even fully understood the lyrics. Growing up, I was obsessed with MTV, watching videos from artists like Tupac, Aaliyah, DMX, Lauryn Hill. Eventually, I realised that music became the way I processed things. After school, if I were stressed, I'd write lyrics or do karaoke. I wasn't great at first, but it was my way of expressing myself, and it's how I grew into who I am now.

How did you discover the type of artist you wanted to be?

I started figuring out the kind of artist I wanted to be about two years ago, right before everything took off. I built a team around me, including my creative director, my manager, and, at the time, a producer I used to work with. My creative director told me, "Before we start putting stuff out, we need to build your whole image first." So we sat down and thought about it: What do I want to represent? What do I stand for? And that's when I realised I had to bring my culture into it - the things I value, my faith, my family, and my relationships.

From there, I started posting on TikTok, and things just started blowing up. As I continued to release music, I gained a deeper understanding of myself and life. It reached a point where I wasn't just making music; I was telling my story, opening up about my family, friends, faith, and everything that makes me who I am.

When it comes to expressing your emotions and yourself the way you do in your music, were you always open to doing that, or was there ever a bit of hesitancy about how much you shared?

My culture influences everything I do, from the way I carry myself to the way I create music. I've always been mindful of representing my roots with respect, and that's reflected in the way I approach my songs. Even now, as I create more mature music, I remain intentional about how I express myself. I want to show where I come from, whether that's through the visuals, the energy, or the stories I tell. It's all part of who I am.

When I was younger, I had difficulties expressing my emotions, but as I've grown and learned from my mistakes, I've become more open to expressing myself in my songs. 

You mentioned that you grew up in Belgium and that your heritage is Moroccan. How does that cultural background influence your art and creativity?

The biggest difference is definitely in the sound and the storytelling. During the process of releasing my music, I was still figuring things out. However, with this debut album I'm working on, I've stepped into who I am as an artist. I've been working closely with Bugz Ronin and my whole team; we built this together, and the production is on a whole different level. We're blending different sounds that've inspired me throughout my life. For example, I've always been fascinated by American hip-hop culture, and I like to blend that with new sounds. Growing up in Antwerp helped me develop an affinity for fashion. Fashion is an integral part of my career, and I enjoy blending fashion and music. 

This time, I'm telling my story, not just making songs to vibe to, but speaking on what I've been through. Previously, I made music from the perspective of a teenager, but now I'm grown, and this album reflects that. It's a new chapter: the production, the lyrics, the visuals - everything's levelled up. This isn't just music, it's art.

Putting out the EP, what was the experience of putting the project out versus when the project was out?

There was time pressure putting the EP together. It was right before I went on tour with Gunna, and we wanted something I could present on stage. The songs were based on what I was going through during that time: heartbreak, my relationship with God, family, and just real life. After it dropped, many more people discovered me, and I'm proud of it. Now, with the album, I'm going deeper; the sound is more mature, and there's more storytelling. However, that EP was an important step for me.

Has that change and mindset in how you approach the album been something you consciously considered when making it, or did it develop naturally from your artistic journey following the EP?

The change and mindset came together very naturally. I always knew everything was God's plan, so I followed. After last year's tour, I took some time to reset and figure out the direction I wanted to take with the album. This year, I've been spending a lot of time in the studio, learning and growing alongside some incredible and inspiring people. That focus is why I've been more offline on social media. It's all about creating something meaningful that people will connect with. It wasn't forced; it was the natural next step in my journey.

You went on tour last year supporting Gunna. How was that experience for you?

It was my first time touring in the U.S., and I'm grateful for the new audience that discovered my music. The vibe was amazing, the energy was positive overall, and it felt like a family, it felt like home. 

Gunna and I clicked on that tour, and since then, we've stayed in touch and continued to build our relationship. Spending time together, especially in the studio, has been a massive part of my growth as an artist. I was impressed by his energy, his performance, and how much he loves fashion too; I feel like we have so much in common. He's so grounded and humble, and he's exactly the artist I wanna become. For me, he became a mentor, and I'm thankful for his presence and advice. 

What does that look like for you when you're not making art, when you're not, when you're not trying to, or when you're not plugged in? 

I focus on resting and recharging. I have meaningful conversations with my parents and team, and they understand when I need to step back and take time for myself. I also journal to express how I'm feeling, both mentally and physically. Working out has become a big part of my routine because it helps me feel better overall. I find small moments to reflect and plan for what's next, and when I can, I relax and meditate to keep my mind calm and clear.

You've had a hectic last couple of years with everything you've been doing. When you think back on everything that happened then, what does that experience feel like?

Looking back, it still feels surreal how quickly things have moved, especially when I started at 18. I'm not where I want to be yet, but I'm really happy with the progress. There's pressure for sure, but having a solid team and my family sticking by my side and believing in me has made all the difference. I've met some amazing people and played festivals I used to only dream about, like Rolling Loud overseas, which I've done twice now. This next album is something that I know will change my life, and I can't wait to share my story with the world. It's been a lot of hard work, ups and downs, but I'm grateful for every moment and excited for what's next.

When you think about where you are and the space you are in, what are you most looking forward to in the next chapter of your career?

What I'm most looking forward to in the next chapter is fully stepping into the artist and person I'm becoming, sharing deeper parts of my story, connecting with more people around the world and growing in a way that feels true to me. I want to reach new places, both literally and creatively and build something lasting that reflects my values and roots. It's about evolving with purpose, staying grounded in my heritage and faith and using my music to inspire and uplift others. This next chapter feels like the moment where everything aligns and I'm ready to embrace it fully. I would love to collaborate with big fashion brands I love, being able to go on tour and perform in front of my community. The idea of being able to perform the songs I've been working on for a whole year is something I'm very excited about, and hopefully, people will connect with my art. I can't wait to show the world what I'm capable of. This is just the beginning. 

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Styling Credits (In order of Images)

Cover Look

Top: Mowalola SS24

Bottoms: Mowalola SS24

Glasses: Hot Future SS24 Jewellery: Annabel B

Shoes: Timberlands

Look 1

Shirt/ Hat: Charles Jeffery LOVERBOY AW24

Jewellery: Annabel B

Look 2

Blazer: Lanvin SS24

Shirt: Lanvin SS24

Skort: Lanvin SS24

Shoes: Kurt Geiger London

Jewellery: Annabel B

Look 3 & 6

Jacket: Namilia AW24

Look 4

Jacket: Namilia AW24

Look 5

Trousers: Y/Project SS24

Belt: BB Simon

Vest: COS

Glasses: Hot Future SS24

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Meet Sly Megida, the Lagos-born artist who's redefining how African stories get told. From his early days sketching in Ojo to founding the Afropop art movement, Megida has made it his mission to ensure that authentic African narratives reach global audiences, told by Africans, for everyone. Through his company Coke Spice Art Ltd and the Orange initiative, he's not just creating powerful works like "Abena" and "The Price for Freedom," but also building platforms for the next generation of African creatives. We sat down with this cultural innovator to talk about art, activism, and what it really means to tell your own story.

Deeds Magazine: You grew up in Ojo, Lagos, and rediscovered art during university in Ghana. Can you walk us through your journey from those early sketches to staging your first exhibition, Never Mind, in 2017? What hurdles did you jump to go pro in a place where art isn’t always valued?

Sly Megida: I grew up in Ojo, Lagos, but I schooled in Ghana at Wisconsin International University. It was in my final days in Ghana, when I was rounding up, that I discovered my arts talent. I was doing portraits back then, pencil sketches for people in school. Then I moved on to trying to tell a story. I had to lock in, develop my talent, watch YouTube videos, spend months working to see how best I could express myself. I knew I had to come out excellent, premium, so I put in the work and acquired more knowledge.

At some point, I had a few works under the series name “One Minute Wonder.” I prepared for an exhibition in Abuja in 2017. That first exhibition in Abuja was a banger, it exposed us and opened doors to more gigs and exhibitions. We had the MTN Walk for Peace at Maitama, the South Korea Embassy, and a series of exhibitions and appearances after that. With that first project, I moved on to Abena and other works. 

Deeds Magazine: You’re credited with birthing the Afropop art movement. How did the idea spark, and what does “Afropop art” mean to you personally?

Sly Megida: I felt like our stories were not being told properly, because they weren’t being told by Africans. My duty as an African man is to tell my story and the stories of my environment. Afropop art is like Africa, I’m a pop artist, meaning whatever pops up in my environment, I talk about it. I want to be involved.

Afropop started as a form for me to tell African and authentic stories. I felt like things were not adding up. And I thought, if I have a voice in society, then I definitely want to use it. That’s where the African Pop movement started for me—as an African artist.

Deeds Magazine: How do works like Abena or Zulu Woman push back against the usual Western narratives about Africa?

Sly Megida: With Abena, I was telling the story that as long as there’s sunshine, there’s hope for Africa. It’s a very cultural piece—about hope and resilience in the African space, where people struggle. I wanted people to know it’s going to come, it’s going to get better. We just have to hold up today and start doing better as a people. I had to create that awareness, and that’s what Abena was talking about.

Zulu was also speaking about the essence of women and African beauty and order.

Deeds Magazine: Many of your pieces carry a social punch—from The Drug of Art series on youth and vices to election-inspired works like The Price for Freedom. How do you pick the issues you tackle?

Sly Megida: As an African man, I speak for the ordinary man. I look at what they’re going through, their struggles. The Price for Freedom was about creating awareness around what African people face in their day-to-day lives. Poverty is a big challenge in this part of the world.

That piece was about how we can elevate ourselves. The struggles we face inspire me. I look at what's going on in my society, my environment, what people are experiencing, not just me personally. That inspires me to speak to the world at large. I feel it’s more relatable. If one, two, three people are going through the same thing, then it’s a story worth telling.

Deeds Magazine: Your style mixes hyperrealism with abstract vibes, and you dabble in painting, film, digital art, and fashion. What’s your creative process when starting something new?

Sly Megida: My creative process starts with gaining more information, getting knowledge about the topic or subject I want to work on. Once I’ve done that, I decide on the best medium to express myself.

From that medium, I identify what I need to learn or gather to talk about the topic effectively. That’s my process, before I even touch the brush or start sketching. I gather references that are relatable and simple, not something people will take too long to understand. In this part of the world, we need more awareness, more intelligence, more knowledge. So I try to break things down to their simplest form, so anyone can relate.

Deeds Magazine: You’ve teamed up with musicians like King Perryy, designed fashion for pop stars, and painted corporate murals. Tell us about a favorite partnership that surprised you or taught you something fresh.

Sly Megida: I’ve had different collaborations, and they’ve all been interesting. But one with King Perryy stood out, we were very intentional about music and art coming together. That’s always been at the forefront of music, every song has an art cover. But here, we transformed every song on the project into a painting. We made about six paintings. That was very interesting, bringing music and art together. Where there’s music, there’s sound, and there’s also visuals.

Deeds Magazine: As founder of Coke Spice Art Ltd and the Orange series, you juggle entrepreneurship and mentorship alongside art-making. How do you keep the business and creative sides balanced?

Sly Megida: Every challenge is a business. Without business, talent wouldn’t flourish. As a talent, you have to expand, do more—evolve. Business helps you evolve because you have to be intentional. It hasn’t been easy, it’s a learning process for me. As founder of Coke Spice and the Orange initiative, these are platforms to help society and support other creatives. The essence of Orange is to give underdog artists a platform to exhibit and showcase their talents, not just in art, but music, fashion, tech. I believe science and arts develop society. Technology and art are always needed.

The ideas and how to implement them, that's crucial. That’s the essence of Orange, and also of Coke Spice. We want to nurture other talents, teach them the business side, and help them understand that passion is not enough. We’re adding to the ecosystem—the Pan-African movement. We’re contributing to the creative industry and to the African financial system. It’s about building more creative production, not just consumption.

Deeds Magazine: What challenges have come with building an art brand in Nigeria, and how have you navigated them?

Sly Megida: One of the main challenges is always finance. Artists in Nigeria don’t often have the money to execute their dreams and ideas. But we have to push through. We have to be extraordinary. We have to go ten times harder than what people globally are doing, just to tell African stories properly. People need to see that this work is creating impact, for them to buy into your story and finance your ideas. These are innovative concepts that can build society. Artists need to be exposed and also understand the business side, so we can build a better future.

Deeds Magazine: Your work’s been hyped by the press, and heavyweights like Don Jazzy and Obi Cubana have sung your praises. How do public and critical reactions affect you, pressure or fuel?

Sly Megida: Life gives you pressure. Society gives you pressure. But to do art, you have to stay on course and create value for your society. Yes, there’s pressure to do more, but I get inspired instead. Every stage unlocks a new door. There’s always a new project, and it has to be finished. So I stay focused on the story I want to tell in that moment.

I don’t feel pressure from the fact that I’m associated with big brands. I see other brands wanting to collaborate with me too. I want to stay in a safe headspace with my craft—where my mind isn’t busy with people’s opinions but is busy creating the next story.

Deeds Magazine: Which artists or mentors have most shaped your voice today?

Sly Megida: I had a one-on-one with one of our oldest living legends, Bruce Onobrakpeya. He scrutinized my work and gave me advice. His experience at different stages of art, his words, let me know I’m on the right track. That inspired me even more. He spoke to me artist to artist, an artist in his eighties speaking to a young one. That shaped my craft.

Deeds Magazine: Looking ahead, what’s your vision for African art over the next decade? And where do you see the Afropop movement globally?

Sly Megida: It’s about expansion, doing more, doing better. African stories are finding global space. For too long, they weren’t being told by Africans. But now, Africans are telling their own stories. I think the global market is focusing more on African music and stories. So I see us doing more, growing the platforms, expanding the space. The ecosystem is moving from Africa into the global scene.

Deeds Magazine: Give us a sneak peek of upcoming projects on the way.

Sly Megida: I’ve been working on a body of work for over three years—a collection titled Black Magic. I’ll be exhibiting it very soon, in two or three months.

We also have an Orange series coming up, where we bring together other creatives to showcase their talents. We’ve done it in 2022 in Lagos and Abuja. Now, we’re doing it again in Lagos and Abuja, and even internationally. This new collection is about Black identity, Black power, Black excellence.

Deeds Magazine: Ultimately, what legacy do you hope to leave for the next generation through your work and the Orange initiative?

Sly Megida: A legacy of hope. That we, as African people, can do more and do better. There’s no limit to our power, creativity, and the impact we can have, on our people, and the world at large. Our stories are valid. Our stories are important. We are important. We are needed.

Right now, people are hopeless, no hope in the government, in society, in their dreams or talents. Even their education. They don’t have money. So what do they do? My imprint is to restore that hope. My story is for someone else to say, If he can do it, I can do better.

Deeds Magazine: Thank you very much. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.

Sly Megida: You're welcome. It’s my pleasure. I appreciate you so much. Thanks.

Talking with Sly Megida, you quickly realize this isn't just an artist, he's a storyteller on a mission. With his "Black Magic" collection dropping soon and the Orange series expanding internationally, Megida continues pushing boundaries while lifting others up. His message is clear: African stories matter, African voices deserve to be heard, and there's no limit to what we can achieve when we control our own narratives. In a world hungry for authentic perspectives, Megida isn't just creating art, he's restoring hope, one powerful piece at a time

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This isn’t about who’s invited. It’s about who takes up space.

Paris Fashion Week has never just been about clothes. It’s a ritual. A show where everything counts, from the runways to the street corners. Where even silence has style, and every outfit is curated for the possibility of being seen. Paris becomes a stage. And every person there, knowingly or not, is part of the performance.

But not all performances are equal. Some people are invited to watch. Others are allowed to be seen. And a few are given the room to shape the moment. This season, that tension felt louder than ever.

At Louis Vuitton, the energy was cinematic. Pharrell’s direction turned the Pompidou Center into a dream space, with snakes and ladders patterns underfoot and a cast of faces that felt almost too famous to be real. Beyoncé and Jay-Z arrived like mythology, dressed in denim and silk, seated front and center. Their nephew Julez sat beside them, because in this version of Paris, family and fashion merge into spectacle.

But it wasn’t just the icons we’ve come to expect. The Nigerian presence this season didn’t just show up, it stood tall.

Rema, fresh off world stages, walked for 424 Inc. Not as a gimmick. As a presence. Smooth, steady, completely at ease. Adekunle Gold sat front row at both Louis Vuitton and Blue Marble, his Pharrell-produced single “Falling Up” echoing through the Vuitton show like a quiet nod to collaboration. Davido, too, was front and center at Amiri and Blue Marble. His look was relaxed but precise. His gaze unbothered. This was not a photo op. This was ownership.

The thing is, these moments matter. Because fashion loves a guest, especially a guest with a massive following. It loves the music, the heat, the culture. But the question still hangs in the air: is this presence just performance? Or is it something deeper?

Fashion knows how to look diverse. It knows how to book the right faces, play the right music, cast the right mood. But when the lights go down, when it’s time to make decisions, are those same people in the room? Are they behind the camera? Are they in the board meetings?

There’s progress, no doubt. The old guard is being forced to pay attention. But true change is slower, less photogenic. It’s not just about being seen. It’s about having a say.

Still, you can feel a shift. Paris feels different when African artists are no longer guests, but contributors. When their presence isn’t the headline, but part of the design. Not decoration. Not a moment. A movement.

And that’s what fashion has to decide next. Whether it wants to keep performing or start participating.

Because this audience is watching. And we see everything.

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How Dragon Andic went from pandemic photographer to the director Toronto's R&B artists call when they want that moody, cinematic feel

Dragon Andic didn't plan to become one of Toronto's most sought-after music video directors during a global pandemic. But sometimes the best creative pivots happen when you're not overthinking them.

Known professionally as The 97, Dragon has spent the last four years building a visual empire from his Toronto base, creating the moody, cinematic aesthetic that's become synonymous with the city's R&B renaissance. His client list reads like a who's who of Canadian music, Roy Woods, Friday, and a growing roster of artists who specifically seek out his signature style. 

But it all started with a phone call during lockdown.

"I started off as a photographer, and I always knew in the back of my head that I wanted to be a director because I love cinema, I love film," Dragon explains. "And I just didn't ever take that leap of faith until COVID happened and the pandemic happened, and it happened by fluke. I was lucky enough to get called up by one of my friends and close clients who asked me to film a video."

That one video became the catalyst for everything that followed. Dragon built his company with some of his best friends from high school, and as he puts it, "since the last four years, we've been booked non-stop and things have been running very smoothly."

Success didn't come without growing pains. Dragon is refreshingly honest about the steep learning curve that came with transitioning from still photography to video production.

"I feel like we had a lot of challenges early on because we were a notable name, like I had a notable brand in Toronto as a photographer. So when I stepped into videography, a lot of my past clients wanted me to try out videos for them, but our team was really uneducated as a production company early on," he admits.

The reality hit hard when they realized the difference between shooting stills and producing music videos.

"So we went into a lot of videos pretty much early without prior knowledge on how much preparation it actually takes to do a music video. And after doing thousands of videos since then, we've learned so much and so much pre-production knowledge now that we've come such a long way."

Those early struggles became the foundation for their current success.

"So every single shoot now is, you know, more well-planned, more organized, and better executed. So early on, there was a lot of knowledge that we were lacking. And it did end up like hurting us back then, but we learned, we learned from our mistakes, and we've been sticking to it."

Some of Dragon's most meaningful work has come through his long-standing relationship with Roy Woods. Their connection goes back to Dragon's photography days, specifically, to Woods' "Dirty Girl" video where Dragon worked as a behind-the-scenes photographer for another production company.

"The first big gig I had as a photographer was on his set for 'Dirty Girl.' I was a behind-the-scenes photographer for another production company. That's how I met him," Dragon recalls.

Fast forward to now, and they've just completed a full-length short film together—a project that represents how far both artists have come.

"So fast forward to now, we actually did a short film together. So it was a full-length short film, and me and him were talking after the film. We looked back and we were like, wow, we came such a long way from when we met to just taking photos to actually doing a full-length film now. So it was a full-circle moment."

The film, which Dragon describes as being about Woods' love life and "all based on a true story," showcases the kind of narrative work that's expanding Dragon's creative horizons beyond traditional music videos.

If Roy Woods represents Dragon's roots, his collaboration with Friday shows his ability to create instant creative chemistry. Their partnership began with a photo shoot in New York that quickly evolved into something bigger.

"I feel like Friday and I were meant to meet. I did, we started off by a photo shoot as well. And this was in New York. I went all the way from Toronto to meet him. We did a photo shoot, and I just handed him my phone. I'm like, 'Hey, by the way, I do music videos.' He's like, 'No way, let's do one right now.'"

That spontaneous moment led to "Calling for You," shot right there in the photo studio.

"So at the photo shoot, we shot 'Calling for You,' which was off his first mixtape. And he's like, 'Wow.' He's like, 'If you could do this in a photo studio in 10 minutes, I wonder what you could do with a budget and a well-thought-out plan of a video.'"

The answer came in the form of multiple collaborations, including Dragon's favorite project with Friday:

"And we ended up shooting at least six, seven videos. And ever since then, we've been collaborating nonstop. My favorite video with him was 'Don't Give It Away' with Chris Brown. That was shot in Los Angeles. And that was a huge milestone for my team. It was his first song with Chris Brown. It was a huge full-circle moment for everybody."

Dragon's visual approach isn't accidental; it's the result of deliberate choices influenced by his love of cinema and specific directors. When asked about his inspirations, he points to Anton Tammi, who directed The Weeknd's early videos.

"Yeah, my favorite director is Anton Tammi. He actually did all The Weeknd's earlier videos. He's very cinematic. He's gifted. I believe he's from Italy. He's very talented. And me and my team have always been inspired by his work, but many other directors as well."

But inspiration only goes so far—execution is what sets Dragon apart. He breaks down his technical approach:

"And our style, some tips that we do: we always shoot people on the shadow side so it provides a more cinematic feel and more depth to the subject. We like close-up shots, we like moody lighting and dark lighting, so not too much light going on, not like the lighting blown out. We like dark shadows, one key light—just lighting is everything. It creates an atmosphere. So we always take lots of time before the first shot on a video to perfect the lighting."

This meticulous attention to mood and atmosphere has become The 97's calling card.

"Yeah, I feel like it's just my personal preference since I was younger. I always like moody, dark, cinematic, sad stuff. I always thought it was the most visually appealing. That's a signature style. When people hire us, clients will come to us, they'll be like, 'I want that moody feel. I want that classic cinematic moody feel that you bring.' So I feel like that's what we're known for, and it's worth it. When someone needs that aesthetic, they come to us."

Dragon sees his work as part of Toronto's broader cultural moment. The city's music scene has exploded in recent years, and he recognizes his role in that growth while maintaining perspective about individual versus collective success.

"Yeah, I would say so. I say everybody in Toronto is putting on for Toronto. I feel like Toronto has made a name for itself in the last few years due to a lot of people. The music industry started booming, and it's been on the come-up ever since, and I feel like Toronto is now in a lane of its own, but then it continues to grow in all aspects in the music industry. So I wouldn't say it's all an ode to me, but every single creative, musician who's contributing plays a big part."

When it comes to advice for aspiring creatives, Dragon's philosophy is grounded in patience and passion rather than quick success.

"I would say there's no exact time limit on when things are gonna pop off for you. So you have to be patient. Patience is the biggest key to success. And to never give up, keep working. Life is about doing what you love. So if as long as you're doing that, and as long as you're like extremely passionate about something, you'll find your way. Not everything's about money. Not everything is about fame or this and that. Just do what you love, and that'll guide you to success. To me, success is doing what you love for a living."

He's particularly encouraging to those who might be hesitant to take the leap:

"And there's so much talent out there. There's so many people that come up to me and they want to start something, but they're kind of shy. They don't want to take that leap. They should take that leap."

When pressed to choose one frame from any music video that represents excellence to him, Dragon doesn't hesitate:

"I'd say my favorite frame is from The Weeknd's 'Blinding Lights' when he's driving them in the cities. Yeah. And it's like a huge trippy montage of him. I could feel the energy when he was driving. And it was by my favorite director. So I feel like he captured the essence of that song so well in the video. That's, to this day, I feel like it won Video of the Year with many awards." 

As Dragon continues building his company and expanding his creative horizons, the upcoming Roy Woods film represents just one example of how his work is evolving beyond traditional music videos. With Friday's album on the horizon and new collaborations always in development, The 97's influence on Toronto's visual culture shows no signs of slowing down.

For Dragon, the journey from pandemic photographer to acclaimed director proves that sometimes the best career moves happen when you're ready to take that leap of faith, even if you don't know exactly where you'll land.

"Yeah, we have a film coming out. It's gonna be available everywhere, and I hope everyone gets the chance to watch it," he says about the Roy Woods project.

Dragon Andic has found his niche by staying true to his vision while remaining open to the unexpected opportunities that come from genuine relationships and authentic passion. And in Toronto's ever-evolving creative scene, that authenticity is exactly what keeps artists coming back for more.

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In some realities of queer people, coming out—a concept that I find contradictory to one’s existence—is a removed experience. It implies that queer people are born hidden, concealed until they declare themselves in contrast to a perceived default. But what if your existence never aligned with that so-called default in the first place? What if, instead of bursting through a closet, you were simply living visibly to those who chose to see?

For queer people, read as those who are feminine-presenting non-men, this contradiction is daily, nuanced, and often lonely. In a society where heterosexuality is assigned unless aggressively proven otherwise, queer femmes are frequently rendered invisible. The world assumes their femininity is for the male gaze. Their softness is read as submission. Their beauty, when admired, is filtered through a lens of compulsory heterosexuality. And so, their queerness becomes a whispered presence that is felt deeply, yet dismissed easily.

In some ways, it’s easier to deny and conform. It’s less disruptive. Less dangerous. There’s a safety in being overlooked, in not having to answer the incessant question: “Are you sure?” And when femme visibility does arise, it’s often co-opted or questioned. As a result, many queer femmes communicate through a different language more so, a coded aesthetic, a practiced defiance, a curated softness that is, in itself, radical.

The entry into the queerness of a femme is often not through declaration, but through subtleties, flagging through curated choices that, to the trained eye, say I am here.

Accessories

Queer femmes have long used jewelry and adornment as soft signals, sometimes subtle, sometimes defiant. A carabiner clipped to a belt loop or one’s neck piece runs through generations as a legacy. In the 1970s, carabiners were widely adopted by working-class lesbians as practical keyholders, especially in blue-collar jobs where visibility had to remain coded. Over time, they became symbols of lesbian autonomy and butch/femme dynamics, even used to indicate “top” or “bottom” preferences based on which hip it was worn on.

Beyond the carabiner, vintage chains, lockets, and rings have also carried coded and personal information and meanings. In a conversation with Es, a queer femme in Nigeria, she explains her reach to the counter for particular colours of bracelets and earrings for the sake of signaling. In history, Lavender jewelry echoes  the Lavender Scare of the 1950s when LGBTQ+ people were purged from U.S. government jobs and was reclaimed as a symbol of pride and resistance. Nameplate necklaces, popularized in Black and Latina communities in the ‘80s and ‘90s, now double as a way for femmes to signal chosen names, pronouns, or identity in community-specific language. These accessories are cultural shorthand: a nod to lineage, love, and belonging.

Hair

Hair has long been a battlefield of control, politics, and freedom. For Black queer femmes especially, hair becomes an archive of survival and self-determination. In the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s, queer Black women like blues singer Gladys Bentley wore close-cropped hairstyles and tuxedos to challenge beauty norms and express gender fluidity. During the 1980s, the punk and riot grrrl movements saw femmes and queer women shaving parts of their heads, bleaching their curls, and rejecting heteronormative grooming entirely.

Even braiding traditions, deeply rooted in African communities as forms of storytelling and identity, have been reclaimed as modes of femme resistance. Braids and lace fronts are statements on the femme body. A color-blocked lace front might flag queerness for those who know. Hair, then, is not always about rejecting femininity but about making it wholly one’s own.

Clothing Choices

Fashion has always been a quiet rebellion. In 1940s America, femmes like Stormé DeLarverie (a biracial drag king and queer icon) played with silhouettes; wearing tuxedos and fedoras by night, yet maintaining a nuanced femininity offstage. Later, in 1970s lesbian feminist collectives, women wore loose denim and army jackets not just for comfort, but as a rejection of patriarchy’s beauty standards.

Today, queer femmes blend references. Fashion choices carry echoes of ballroom culture in the 1980s where queer Black and Latinx femmes walked categories like “Femme Queen Realness” in thrifted glam and streetwear. To the untrained eye, it might look effortless. But each layer is curated in a dialogue between visibility, safety, and desire.

Makeup

Makeup, once dismissed as a tool of feminine compliance, has become a queer femme weapon of choice. In the 1980s, amidst the HIV/AIDS crisis and queer marginalization, club kids and drag performers like Leigh Bowery transformed makeup into high art using bold lines, outrageous colors, and full faces to declare existence in a world that refused to see them.

Femme queens in New York’s ballroom scene would apply precise, exaggerated makeup to win categories like “Face” or “Realness,” staking their beauty and gender on their own terms. Today, queer femmes carry that history with every winged liner. Glitter tears harken back to both protest and performance. A dark lip in daylight is a reclamation: of choice, of mood, of agency. To wear a full face at a protest, or even in spaces where queerness is unsafe, is not vanity, it’s a political act. It is refusal to disappear.

And still, despite these signs, many queer femmes remain invisible. Their queerness is constantly questioned, especially in relationships with masculine-presenting people or in solitude. This invisibility doesn’t negate their identity; it deepens their resistance. It makes pride something not always shouted, but often styled, walked in, carried.

Queer femmes deserve to be understood on their own terms. Their pride doesn’t always come in a parade; sometimes it comes in a quietly chosen outfit, a hair clip, a glance. In a world that demands proof, they remind us that queerness doesn’t have to be proven to be true. If you look, you’ll see us.

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The collection officially launches today, Friday, June 27, with the brand currently present at Paris Fashion Week through a curated pop-up experience, alongside a special month-long activation at their Lagos flagship, Maison Magnum, throughout July—inviting community, conversation, and discovery all summer long.

At the intersection where luxury tailoring meets bold streetwear, Magnum Man stands as a vanguard of contemporary African fashion. Born from tradition but shaped by forward thinking, this brand redefines menswear with a distinctive formula, rooted in heritage, perfected through craftsmanship, and enlivened with contemporary edge. We sat down with founder Olajire, to trace the journey from a tailor's table to a ready-to-wear powerhouse now making waves across the African continent and beyond.

Deeds Magazine: Could you walk us through the journey of Magnum Man's inception? What sparked the idea to create this particular kind of fashion space?

Olajire O: Originally, Magnum Man is the name of the brand. I actually started out as Magnum Stitches, we were doing bespoke traditional menswear for men across Africa. We had stores in Ilupeju, and Lekki Phase1. The idea was simple: bring tailored African fashion into a premium, modern space.

Then COVID happened. There was a big shift, people needed a way to connect with fashion beyond just physical fittings. That's when I pivoted into ready-to-wear with Magnum Man. But we didn't want to lose the soul of the brand. Everything we do still has that traditional DNA, African fabrics, tailored details, and cultural cues. We work with Aso Oke, and many of our silhouettes still nod to classic Nigerian tailoring. So even in a new format, the heritage remains front and center.

Deeds Magazine: What are some of the key inspirations, whether from art, culture, history, or personal experiences, that laid the foundation for Magnum Man's aesthetic?

Olajire O: My inspiration comes from our traditions and culture, much like in Japan, where the old seamlessly integrates with the new. We lean heavily on African fabrics and cultural motifs. Last year, for example, we displayed life-size masquerades in the store to inspire our "Egun" collection, which fuses patchwork, vibrant colors, and masquerade patterns. We constantly mine cultural narratives to expand and export our heritage through clothing.

Deeds Magazine: The name "Magnum Man" has a certain resonance. What's the story behind the name and what does it signify for the brand?

Olajire O: We wanted a name that evokes the ideal modern African man, someone rooted in the continent but thriving globally. "Magnum Man" captures that identity, representing Africa's spirit and the modern man's potential, whether on the continent or in the diaspora.

Deeds Magazine: How would you describe the overall design philosophy and aesthetic that defines the collections at Magnum Man?

Olajire O: "Man" in biblical terms means "humankind," so our brand speaks to everyone. In last year's sales, 30–40 percent of purchases were by women, especially styles like our Egun pants and graphic T-shirts. Our DNA is Africa: it shows in our textures, patterns, fabrics, and the stories we tell through each design.

Deeds Magazine: What is your process for curating or designing your featured pieces? What do you look for in terms of quality, style, and uniqueness?

Olajire O: We never cut corners. I source original traditional fabrics, mix and match them, and commission bespoke illustrations for our T-shirts from African artists worldwide. We also upcycle vintage aso-oke from Iseyin & Ilorin, some aged over 100 years. Those vintage weavers' pieces are one-of-a-kind, collectible wearable art that will never be made again.

Deeds Magazine: Are there specific designers or artisans you collaborate with? If so, how do these collaborations shape the Magnum Man identity?

Olajire O: I put together a team of young creatives, the best minds, and gave them the opportunity to express themselves through photography, drawing, and illustration. We bring these designs together into wonderful-looking T-shirts. It's fulfilling to see their greatest work amplified. When a South African client sent us a photo wearing our T-shirt on holiday in Spain, it was proof that African-inspired art, produced with international quality standards, resonates everywhere.

Deeds Magazine: Maison Magnum is your flagship physical store. What was your concept for that space, and what do you hope customers take away from their interaction with your store?

Olajire O: Maison Magnum opened last year. As an architecture enthusiast, especially African architecture, I envisioned an immersive environment. On arrival, customers see modern African-executive architecture, original artwork, and human-size masquerade installations. We also designed the soundscape, modern Afrobeats meets deep-house, and infused an African signature scent. The goal is to transport guests straight to Africa.

Deeds Magazine: How do you see the online presence (like your Instagram) complementing the in-store experience?

Olajire O: Online and offline begin on social media. Our team crafts and sells the story digitally so that, even from afar, people feel part of the Magnum Man narrative. It's a work in progress, but followers understand our heritage and vision.

A New Chapter: Project Ilashe Summer '25

This commitment to storytelling and cultural exploration takes center stage in Magnum Man's latest venture: Project Ilashe, the brand's Summer '25 capsule collection that serves as a love letter to Lagos' coastal essence. Inspired by Ilashe—a serene beach town known for its stillness, spirit, and soul, the collection explores themes of African rest, cultural memory, and quiet luxury through contemporary menswear.

The capsule features standout pieces that embody this coastal-meets-heritage philosophy. The signature Egun Pants make a return in a statement wide-leg silhouette, now crafted from patchwork Aso-Oke that merges artisanal tradition with bold modern tailoring. New Aso-Oke Linen Sets offer soft summer co-ords featuring delicate linen blended with handwoven Aso-Oke detailing a refined homage to Yoruba textile heritage that speaks to the collection's themes of cultural memory and contemporary ease.

The collection debuted through an immersive showroom experience at Maison Magnum in Lagos, offering an exciting preview ahead of its global rollout. This marks the first chapter of a series of international pop-ups planned for London, New York, Atlanta, and Johannesburg throughout the summer, with each activation continuing the collection's exploration of cultural memory, coastal ease, and global African identity.

Deeds Magazine: What are your thoughts on the current fashion landscape in Nigeria, and where do you see Magnum Man fitting into it?

Olajire O: Last summer I was at Paris Fashion Week. Brands globally are getting inspiration and mood boards from African fashion. Africa is up in the creative sector, fashion, music. Brands pushing outside the box can get a chunk of that pie if they meet quality and direction. International brands like Issey Miyake and Louis Vuitton are using African patterns. Magnum Man must continue raising our own bar to win that global audience.

Deeds Magazine: What are your aspirations for the future of Magnum Man? What kind of impact do you hope to have on the fashion community?

Olajire O: My dream remains to connect with Africans and non-Africans globally, to export Africa to the world through fashion. Physical stores or online, as we grow we'll find the best places to plant ourselves. Time will tell, be it Europe, America, or London, you'll be the first to know.

From its bespoke tailoring roots at Magnum Stitches to its ready-to-wear evolution, and now with Project Ilashe's coastal sophistication, Magnum Man embodies a new wave of African Fashion: one that honors tradition while embracing innovation. Under Olajire O.'s vision, the brand continues to weave heritage into every stitch, creating a global fashion narrative that speaks loudly, and proudly, of Africa's enduring style, rooted in craftsmanship and inspired by the rhythm of Lagos, offering a new vision of African luxury that is refined, confident, and deeply connected to place.

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