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In 2018, Nigerian streetwear had no address. Brands existed, but scattered, selling to friends, praying for virality, competing for the same small audience. There was no connective tissue. No gathering point. No legitimacy.
Iretidayo Zaccheaus was 18 when she decided to fix that.
Eight years later, Street Souk receives over a thousand brand applications annually, has hosted everyone from Mowalola to Naomi Campbell to the late Virgil Abloh, and has staged pop-ups across Lagos, Dubai, Cape Town, London, Los Angeles, Abuja, and Accra. Ireti, as she's known, created the infrastructure an entire industry was missing. Street Souk gave Nigerian streetwear something it never had. An epicentre. A scene.
We sat with the woman who built it, to talk about what it took, and what comes next.
Your mother Yewande built Eventful and its souk series for her generation. When you walked into one of her Fashion Souks in 2018, what made you think you could do this for yours?
The specific moment was just walking around and seeing how everything was set up, how neat it looked. The fundamentals were there, it was an extremely well-organised event, but it just wasn't appealing to me. The clothes were Ankara bubus and stuff I wasn't necessarily interested in. So as a creative person, the first thing I'm thinking is: Wow, imagine if it was a bunch of brands that look like the kind of stuff I wear. Streetwear brands.
You were 18 when you launched Street Souk. What did you tell those first brands to convince them to take a chance on something that had never existed in West Africa?
I was blessed and fortunate enough that I was already on the scene. Whether people knew me as Teezee's sister, or part of the DRB team organising events, or from the Traplanta t-shirts I was selling, or the work I did for Homecoming, I was a trusted face. My opinion mattered in the fashion space already without having done anything. That's the easiest thing to say.
You receive applications from over 1,000 brands now. Walk us through your curation process.
It's very rigorous because I still go through every single application myself. The brands represented at Street Souk are also representing the streetwear scene in Africa as a whole. I have to make sure they're up to a standard that every youth from Africa will be proud of. The key thing I look at is intentionality. If you're just slapping graphics from the internet on t-shirts, nine years ago that might have been cool, now it's not. It's not about followers. It's about showing you're serious. From seeing someone's thing, you can tell if they're going to be a no-show or if they're going to come through and make their booth the sickest booth possible.
Nigerian streetwear pulls from traditional textiles, hip-hop, skate culture, "bend down select" upcycling. Which of these excites you most right now?
I'm into all of them, but I'm definitely keen on playing around with traditional Nigerian textiles, aso oke, adire. We've seen what Dye Lab have done with adire. With Street Souk, we created this piece for Lagos Fashion Week: camo aso oke jorts, camouflage jorts with aso oke patches. Infusing traditional textiles with modern-day culture is where my head is at right now.
You've said Nigerian streetwear is "very raw and fast-paced." What does "raw" mean in terms of actual design?
Raw means it's still very fresh, still very new, and there are no rules to it. People are just doing what they want to do, taking inspiration from a bunch of different places. No one thing is exactly the same. We have influences from the West, from pop culture, from hip-hop, but it's still very raw and very fresh.
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International brands have been "dubbing off" African culture for years. What distinguishes authentic African streetwear from imitation?
The technique in which items are woven, how they look, how they fit, how loud they are. There are certain things as an African you're willing and daring to do that someone from the other side of the world might not be willing or able to do.
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How do you balance showcasing established names against taking risks on emerging designers?
Honestly, it's very much a gut feeling. Some of the biggest brands might not give you as much impact as emerging brands with a cult following. It depends on how I feel, what I feel is the best situation, and what that partnership means. “I'm a very deep person when it comes to people I work with.” It has to have some level of importance or meaning to me for it to happen, for it to feel authentic, for it to go well.
Virgil called Street Souk a key part of Africa's "youth-driven fashion renaissance." Now that he's gone, who do you look to globally as a reference point?
Globally, for the infrastructure of what streetwear has become, I look up to people like Clint from Corteiz and Ronnie Fieg from Kith. What these brands have built individually has been incredible, Kith with the infrastructure of popping up stores all over the world. I also look to Daily Paper in terms of their storytelling, their strong core and essence.
Streetwear is heavily male-dominated. How has navigating that shaped your approach to amplifying women-led brands?
I always try to amplify woman-led brands, whether we're curating the marketplace at FEM Fest and only highlighting female-led brands, or doing events where we give women advantage. I'm probably not supposed to say this, but if I ever have to choose between a male and female brand and it comes down to the line, if they're both equally deserving, I would always go with the woman. I know how much harder it is for a female brand to get into certain situations. We need more female-led streetwear brands. Shout out to Ayanfe from WWYD, Tolu from Meji Meji.
The world tour hit Lagos, Dubai, Cape Town, London, LA, Abuja, and Accra. How did you adapt Street Souk's identity across different cities?
The most important thing about Street Souk, and I guess about our core ethos and me as an individual as well as being Nigerian, is whatever room you go into, you shake it up. Instead of adapting to fit them, you make them adapt to fit you. That's the mindset I go with when I go into any of these cities. I'm going in there to give you the Lagos experience. You don't want me in your city to give you something that you've had before, or to dumb it down so it's easily digestible or palatable.
So we always make sure that wherever we're standing up, we're really showing up for our city, that people can feel like, "Oh, it feels like I'm in Nigeria," or "It feels like I'm at Street Souk Lagos." That's definitely the mindset we go into all our pop-ups with. We're not trying to adapt to where we are. We're trying to get them to adapt to who we are.
Street Souk now hosts 100+ vendors and 5,000+ attendees, it has become a marketplace as much as a cultural moment. How do you ensure brands are actually making sales, not just getting exposure?
The one thing we keep at the centre: it's an event where you come to shop. Shopping is the core. Buying and selling, trade is the core. Everything else is a bonus. It would never be a situation where you're going for a concert and shopping is added value. Streetwear is at the core. Music, vibes, food, that's a nice add-on. People already know they're coming to shop. Our percentage of brands that sell out, that make record amounts of money, and our retention of brands that always want to come back is extremely high. So I think we're doing a pretty good job in that department.
You've said the goal is to be bigger than ComplexCon. What would an African streetwear convention need to offer, in terms of experiences, brand access, exclusives, to reach that level?
The problem with this question is a lot of it is infrastructural. A lot of it at this point is out of my control. Things like the ability to get goods in and out of the country easily. So for example, let's say we have a brand deal with a Nike or so and they want to come and show up at Street Souk in a real way like they do at ComplexCon, them getting their goods in has to be easy. The purchasing power of the nation, the economic situation, people being able to afford these goods. The venues, ComplexCon has maybe three, four hundred brands and still has space for a festival. There's nowhere like that in Nigeria or West Africa indoors yet.
And also the appetite of sponsors. Sponsors are the ones that make events like this happen. We're still in a situation where we have to explain to sponsors why this is important. Some are just starting to see the youth is the future, let's invest in them, let's tap in with them.
But Africa has the numbers. Nigeria alone has the numbers. Seventy-five percent of our population is under twenty-five. A third of the world's online users in the next ten years will be based in Africa. The data is showing we can take over. Infrastructurally, we just need the help of people who can make a difference.
What advice would you give designers starting out in 2026?
The first thing about starting your own brand is create your hero product. Find out what that one product is going to be for your brand that you can sell thousands and thousands of units of in different colours, in different shapes and sizes of the same product in order to gain brand equity. Let people see that product and know it's your brand.
Kai Collective has her vest top that generated over a million pounds in revenue for her brand. Corteiz had the tracksuits that they started off with. Most brands that have really gone on to be super successful, they have that hero product that they're known for, and then they use that product to enter the markets and then they can flex their creativity and do everything else they always wanted to do. But don't try and go in too quick doing everything.
Become a master of something, and then when you have the capital, you can play into all the different things you want to do. That's definitely one of the most important things I've learned over the years.
And make sure you reference, make sure you look at brands that are already existing, but do not copy them. There's a big difference between referencing, getting inspiration, and straight up dubbing. Do not be a dub. Just get your inspiration, do your research, do your referencing, have a strong story to tell. Most brands that are doing really well now have a story to tell. People want to buy to be part of the brand. It's more than just selling t-shirts these days. You're buying into something. So that's really important.
Eight years in, what was the Nigerian streetwear ecosystem missing that Street Souk provided?
An infrastructure. A place where you could find all these brands in one place, almost like a directory. An epicentre. One place where you could go and find everything. It was missing a community. There were brands, but no synergy. No scene. Just a bunch of different people doing different things. Being able to bring everything together and define it is what Street Souk provided.
And that global push, the platform that got Davido to wear these Nigerian brands, that got your favourite artists from here and abroad paying attention. Street Souk legitimised streetwear in Nigeria and Africa as you know it. People were like: Okay, this is something that exists. This is something we can look at.
What's next?
This year is about to be our most exciting year. We have a lot of sick collaborations coming out, local and global. I'm really excited about them. Nothing I can necessarily speak on now, I'm NDA'd out, but I'm really, really excited. It's going to be the most special year yet.
This is our year of expansion. I feel like we're really about to get to that next level and that next step. You should look out for our e-commerce store. We launched it officially last year. We're onboarding a lot of new brands from Nigeria, from across Africa, and from our friends in the diaspora as well. We're going to have a really incredible selection at Street Souk.
We also have a physical space within the Homecoming concept store where you'll be able to shop everything online in person, just for that in-person experience, you want to go try it on, see how it feels. We also have the Street Souk After Dark, which is our monthly activation where we'll be curating different brands on a monthly basis, different DJs, different artists, a chance to come and discover what's next in our community, what's next on the scene. I'm really excited about this. It has a lot of potential to be something really incredible.
We're just in that cycle where this is the next generation of what is going to be mainstream or what is going to be the next big thing, and we're lucky enough to be an incubator for a lot of these brands, a lot of these artists, a lot of these different forms of talent. We're also going on a university tour in Nigeria. Of course, we're going on a global tour as well, hitting up some new places, hitting up some of our stomping grounds already. I'm really excited for the university tour, just tapping in with the youths out here, seeing what people are doing, activating their brands in a lot of design competitions. We have a lot of really sick stuff coming up this year. I'm super excited. I can't wait for everything to start officially rolling out.
Midway through, Ireti says something that lands differently the second time you read it: "We're not trying to adapt to where we are. We're trying to get them to adapt to who we are." She says it like it's obvious.At this point, it is. Ireti knows exactly what Street Souk is; an epicentre, an infrastructure, a legitimiser, and she's known since she was 18, standing in her mother's event space, imagining a version for people who dress like her, her generation. Eight years later, the vision has only sharpened. The e-commerce store. The physical retail space. The After Dark monthly activations. The university tour. The global expansion. Every decision connects back to the same vision she had at 18.
And at the centre of it all, a woman who still personally reviews every single one of those thousand plus brand applications, because she understands that what shows up at Street Souk is not just representing another convention, it's representing an entire continent's creative output.
Ireti Zaccheaus didn't wait for the infrastructure to exist. She built it. And eight years later, she's still building. Tastemaker, Curator, Architech of StreetSouk.
On Monday last week I woke up sizzling with excitement over the 79th British Academy Film Awards (BAFTA). In the days and weeks before, I had engaged friends and film enthusiasts in effervescent conversations regarding the awards—which is perhaps an elegant way of saying I trotted out my predictions to anyone who cared to listen. On the night of the show, I considered staying up to follow the event, but the prospect of getting updates alongside the discordant tweets I knew awaited me the next morning seemed more alluring.
At the crack of dawn, as shafts of amber-hued sunlight pushed through my blinds, I grabbed my phone and immediately typed in the keywords: “BAFTA,” “Winners.” What popped up left me completely shell-shocked. Award shows, by their very nature, tend to elicit drama but not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine a white man yelling the N-word at two black actors. In hindsight, foreclosing the possibility of this terrible gaffe seems a tad too generous on my part. John Davidson, the offender, suffers from Tourette’s and has been known to hurl obscenities especially when the situation demands utmost civility.
In the hours that followed, the scandal filled up my social media timeline. Opinions were split between indicting Davidson and defending him. Amid the bedlam, one thing became clear: in this case, there are no easy answers, no tidy narratives with a clear aggressor and victim. Like the BAFTA controversy, the other topics I interrogate in this installment of Pop Takes—an original column in which I interrogate some of the most culturally relevant Pop culture topics—defy easy resolutions. Against the backdrop of an endlessly polarized political landscape, I hope that in working through these topics, walking the tightrope between showing empathy and holding on to our values, we’re reminded of the importance of applying nuance to situations and defying the tyranny of binary logic: two truths can, and very often do, coexist.
Unpacking The BAFTA Debacle
Dressed in crisp dark suits, Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo stood behind the lectern, poised to deliver the first BAFTA of the night when a word drifted from behind the hall—40 rows behind the stage—sending the 2,700-seater hall filled with the crème de la creme of the movie business into an eerie silence. Those few seconds of silence seemed to last for ages and while Jordan would retain his characteristic stoicism, Lindo's jaw slacked with bracing alacrity, his mouth a door wide ajar. Tourette Syndrome activist John Davidson had blurted out the N-word, putatively spurred on by his implacable tics. Davidson was in attendance for the film ‘I Swear’, nominated in several categories, and inspired by his life. Expectedly this incident has left social media simmering with forceful debates, recriminations, and polemics. Why was Davidson allowed access to a microphone when his tics are a matter of public knowledge? Is Tourette’s syndrome simply a smokescreen for what appeared to be unvarnished racism? What is the path forward from all of this?
This is a conversation that resists simplistic resolutions, the binary logic we love to apply when adjudicating cultural events. It is first important to revisit what Tourette’s Syndrome is. The neurodevelopmental condition, which affects less than 1 percent of the global population, is characterized by involuntary movement and sounds—essentially your body acting in defiance of you. Davidson’s variant of the disorder, characterized by profane outbursts, is much rarer, affecting about 10-20% of the general Tourette Syndrome population.
Davidson’s history of Tourette-induced swearing is however well-documented. Years ago, as he received his MBE, he yelled “(expletive) the Queen.” He once blurted “You’re going to die” while on a visit to a woman with cancer. During the BAFTA awards, Davidson blurted out about 10 offensive words in total, including calling this year’s host Alan Cumming a pedophile. All of which is to say despite how offensive and disconcerting it was to hear that word sully a high point for two exemplary Black men, especially during Black History Month, the available evidence suggests that it wasn’t his intention to say the word.
Nonetheless, two truths can coexist. We can acknowledge that Davidson's faux-pas issued from his disorder whilst also recognizing the damage it caused. As someone with OCD, I know firsthand how debilitating mental illness can be. But I find it extremely curious that Davidson has at no point made an attempt to issue an apology to the people his actions directly affected. He has made a show of asserting his innocence, claiming to be distraught and explaining that he has no control over his tics and calling out the BAFTA team for placing a microphone so close to him knowing how spontaneous and his tics can be. He has expressed his consternation at the whole debacle airing on television. Before the show, the BAFTA team reportedly assured him that his tics would be excised from the broadcast footage. There’s much to be said about how poorly the BAFTA team and the BBC, which broadcast the event, have handled all of this. Consider that Akinola Davies' speech was cut short, in the broadcast, to exclude the parts in which he calls for a free Palestine but they saw it fit to broadcast the N-word to the world. Nonetheless, the path to reconciliation begins with the ways in which one’s actions, accidental or otherwise, have caused harm and then issuing an earnest apology.
Nigerian Ace Singer Simi Finds Herself in a Controversy
For some two weeks now Nigerian singer Simi has found herself at the heart of a roiling controversy. This month in Nigeria, several victims of rape or assault have called out their abusers on social media. Each call-out sent waves of sadness, grief, and anger reverberating across the country, setting off a reckoning on social media. And while many of the nation’s celebrities largely steered clear of the conversation, Simi bravely bemoaned the endemic sexual violence in the country through a bracingly heartfelt tweet in which she called for the nation to stop raping its women. “Women are terrified to go out. Women in their homes are not safe either. Ask your sisters. Ask your female friends and your girlfriends. Ask your wives. We're not all crazy. STOP RAPING WOMEN!!” The tweet partly reads. Before long, her comments section had morphed into something resembling a marauding mob: essentially composed of men denigrating her for myriad inane reasons. Days after, however, the story would take a surprisingly dreadful turn.
Internet sleuths exhumed pedophilic tweets the singer had posted on a lark years ago, many of them well over a decade old. The fallout was immediate and, as one would expect, chaotic, leaving many who had rallied behind her earlier at a loss for what to do. Many of the problematic tweets have been deleted now and Simi has issued a statement addressing the issue. In it she pushes against the narrative that she was depraved, arguing that—at 23 years of age, when she made most of those tweets—she was “cheeky” and tweeted everything that happened in her life. Suffice it to say the statement only served to exacerbate the scandal.
It goes without saying that the events of the past few days are incredibly sensitive and require nuance to untangle. Misogyny, rape, and pedophilia are great evils that somehow perform an elaborate tango in this convoluted scandal. Further complicating matters is the fact that the sleuths who surfaced Simi’s disturbing tweets did so not out of concern but as retribution for the tweets in which she condemns rape. Nonetheless, the two truths, once again, can coexist. Simi must be commended for standing in solidarity with victims of assault, especially in defiance of the rabid misogyny that’s increasingly prevalent online. But we must also condemn her deeply disturbing tweets, because turning a blind eye to them would make us no different from those who sit on the sidelines when issues of social justice are being addressed.
Is Pitchfork Biased Against Black Music?
Three recent reviews from the cheeky and irreverent internet-native music publication Pitchfork have revived an age-old question: Does Pitchfork have a bias against black music and musicians? The platform recently published scathing reviews of J Cole’s ‘The Fall Off,’ Brent Faiyaz’s ‘Icon,’ and Baby Keem’s ‘Casino.’ Responding to Pitchfork rating his album a 5.8 wrote on his Instagram Stories: “Ay Pitchfork I'm sorry for not paying ya'll but can I get an honest album review just 1 time for the 1 time?”
It’s well known that Pitchfork, despite its storied history and generally respected critical tone, hasn’t historically been the best arbiter of Black music. The platform tends to favor experimental and artistically ambitious music, which means its Best New Music section is often graced by left-field, avant-garde offerings. The platform, like most others, has also just begun to include more Black and minority groups within its editorial team. Nonetheless, suggesting a bias against Black music is disingenuous. In February alone, three of the six projects in its Best New Albums’ category have been Rap albums. Ella Mai’s ‘Do You Still Love Me?’ received favorable ratings and a song from the project was featured in the Best New Song category. Seeing some of the most anticipated projects by Black artists get crushed might give the impression that the publication has a bias towards Black music. But zooming out reveals a more nuanced picture. Could it be that these projects, whose enormous marketing budgets have all but ensured that they are up in our faces, aren’t all that impressive?
In recent weeks, social media, or perhaps more appropriately, the corner of social media concerned with all things Nigerian music, has lit up with something resembling holy indignation over a seven-month-old Billboard article. The article, titled ‘The Biggest One Hit Wonders of the 25th Century,’ puts Rema at the number six spot, on account of his putative failure to reprise the surreal heights he attained with ‘Calm Down’ remix, featuring Selena Gomez. “The No. 3-peaking "Calm Down" was obviously not veteran pop superstar Gomez's only hit, but Rema has yet to make it to the Hot 100 again,” the article notes, in a tone that seems somewhere between dour and cheeky. “Although he has landed six top 10s on the U.S. Afrobeats Songs, through the June 7, 2025, chart,” the writer follows, on a somewhat conciliatory note.
It was a sedate Sunday afternoon when I happened upon a tweet decrying the article as malicious. Before long my timeline had transformed into a sizzling pastiche of takes and polemics on the subject. Rival fans seized upon the article, wielding it to downplay Rema’s impact on Afrobeats. I found this ironic, if Rema, who made the biggest Afrobeats song and has constantly bent the culture to his will at every turn in his career was suddenly insignificant because of a Billboard article, what claims does anyone else on the scene have to significance? Expectedly, fans of Rema and Nigerian music enthusiasts have forcefully railed against the Billboard article. Even those who have maintained an ambivalent stance, have been no less involved in the conversation. What all of this immediately gestures at is the immense significance the Billboard Chart holds in this part of the world.
But even this assessment barely captures the full picture. Weeks ago, the Grammys, in usual fashion, set off a salvo of debates, ranging from conversations about who deserved to win in the recently minted Best African Music Performance category to debates on the relevance of the category. Taken together, these underscore the degree to which Western validation has become a mainstay in the Nigerian music industry. The question then becomes: Why is this so? Why do Nigerian music enthusiasts care so much about western validation? Putting aside the singular cultural influence the western world, America in particular, wields over the rest of the world, and the fact that American charts and awards have come to be lodestars for music scenes across the world, Nigerian music artists and stakeholders disproportionately value western validation for the same reasons droves of Nigerians migrate to these regions every year: the desire for better opportunities.
Nigerian artists are nowhere near being unique in their fascination with American success. Stretching back to the early days of the country, America has attracted strivers from around the world, eager to make good on their American dreams. And Nigerian artists are no different. Winning a Grammy or scoring a Billboard Hot 100 hit instantly signals ascendancy into a rarefied club. It also translates to increased commercial success, as well as visibility and access. For everyday Nigerian music fans, who relish a good grass-to-grace story, it's not hard to see the appeal of success on the Billboard Charts or the Grammy stage; and by extension, why we care so much about what the Billboard charts have to say about our artists. But I suspect it also owes something to our local metrics of success being in a shambolic state.
The Headies, which is supposed to be the Nigerian equivalent of the Grammys, continues barreling towards obsolescence. Every year, the show’s production quality and organizational problems drive a wedge between the award and fans. These days the nation's biggest artists don't bother attending and the complaints of former years have given way to collective apathy. The Turntable Charts, the nation’s eminent music chart, despite the best efforts, still struggles to muster the widespread acceptance and cultural cachet it needs to be a cultural authority in Africa in the way the Billboard Charts is in America and indeed much of the western hemisphere. On this front, it has to be noted that the good people of the Turntable Charts are doing an excellent job and require all the funding and institutional support they can get to maximize their potential.
It’s tempting to wrap up this piece with a feel-good rallying call for Nigerian music fans and stakeholders to avert their gaze from Western honors and milestones, even if only momentarily, and look inwards. It’s true that in our pursuit of global domination, we have neglected local institutions, and that now more than ever we need to return to building structures and systems that can better serve the local industry. But I’ll be remiss if I fail to call out Western music institutions for their half-assed efforts at recognizing Afrobeats or Nigerian music as a whole. When you take the Billboards Chart branding Rema a “one-hit wonder”—which makes no sense regardless of whatever angle we look at it from (he’s not an American artist, so why should the Billboards Hot 100 be used to decide his hits?—and the fracture between the Grammys and current trends within Afrobeats, what one finds is that while these platforms constantly affirm their interest in Nigerian music, they’re often unwilling to do the work required to properly recognize the genre.
In 2018, Nigerian streetwear had no address. Brands existed, but scattered, selling to friends, praying for virality, competing for the same small audience. There was no connective tissue. No gathering point. No legitimacy.
Iretidayo Zaccheaus was 18 when she decided to fix that.
Eight years later, Street Souk receives over a thousand brand applications annually, has hosted everyone from Mowalola to Naomi Campbell to the late Virgil Abloh, and has staged pop-ups across Lagos, Dubai, Cape Town, London, Los Angeles, Abuja, and Accra. Ireti, as she's known, created the infrastructure an entire industry was missing. Street Souk gave Nigerian streetwear something it never had. An epicentre. A scene.
We sat with the woman who built it, to talk about what it took, and what comes next.
Your mother Yewande built Eventful and its souk series for her generation. When you walked into one of her Fashion Souks in 2018, what made you think you could do this for yours?
The specific moment was just walking around and seeing how everything was set up, how neat it looked. The fundamentals were there, it was an extremely well-organised event, but it just wasn't appealing to me. The clothes were Ankara bubus and stuff I wasn't necessarily interested in. So as a creative person, the first thing I'm thinking is: Wow, imagine if it was a bunch of brands that look like the kind of stuff I wear. Streetwear brands.
You were 18 when you launched Street Souk. What did you tell those first brands to convince them to take a chance on something that had never existed in West Africa?
I was blessed and fortunate enough that I was already on the scene. Whether people knew me as Teezee's sister, or part of the DRB team organising events, or from the Traplanta t-shirts I was selling, or the work I did for Homecoming, I was a trusted face. My opinion mattered in the fashion space already without having done anything. That's the easiest thing to say.
You receive applications from over 1,000 brands now. Walk us through your curation process.
It's very rigorous because I still go through every single application myself. The brands represented at Street Souk are also representing the streetwear scene in Africa as a whole. I have to make sure they're up to a standard that every youth from Africa will be proud of. The key thing I look at is intentionality. If you're just slapping graphics from the internet on t-shirts, nine years ago that might have been cool, now it's not. It's not about followers. It's about showing you're serious. From seeing someone's thing, you can tell if they're going to be a no-show or if they're going to come through and make their booth the sickest booth possible.
Nigerian streetwear pulls from traditional textiles, hip-hop, skate culture, "bend down select" upcycling. Which of these excites you most right now?
I'm into all of them, but I'm definitely keen on playing around with traditional Nigerian textiles, aso oke, adire. We've seen what Dye Lab have done with adire. With Street Souk, we created this piece for Lagos Fashion Week: camo aso oke jorts, camouflage jorts with aso oke patches. Infusing traditional textiles with modern-day culture is where my head is at right now.
You've said Nigerian streetwear is "very raw and fast-paced." What does "raw" mean in terms of actual design?
Raw means it's still very fresh, still very new, and there are no rules to it. People are just doing what they want to do, taking inspiration from a bunch of different places. No one thing is exactly the same. We have influences from the West, from pop culture, from hip-hop, but it's still very raw and very fresh.
International brands have been "dubbing off" African culture for years. What distinguishes authentic African streetwear from imitation?
The technique in which items are woven, how they look, how they fit, how loud they are. There are certain things as an African you're willing and daring to do that someone from the other side of the world might not be willing or able to do.
How do you balance showcasing established names against taking risks on emerging designers?
Honestly, it's very much a gut feeling. Some of the biggest brands might not give you as much impact as emerging brands with a cult following. It depends on how I feel, what I feel is the best situation, and what that partnership means. “I'm a very deep person when it comes to people I work with.” It has to have some level of importance or meaning to me for it to happen, for it to feel authentic, for it to go well.
Virgil called Street Souk a key part of Africa's "youth-driven fashion renaissance." Now that he's gone, who do you look to globally as a reference point?
Globally, for the infrastructure of what streetwear has become, I look up to people like Clint from Corteiz and Ronnie Fieg from Kith. What these brands have built individually has been incredible, Kith with the infrastructure of popping up stores all over the world. I also look to Daily Paper in terms of their storytelling, their strong core and essence.
Streetwear is heavily male-dominated. How has navigating that shaped your approach to amplifying women-led brands?
I always try to amplify woman-led brands, whether we're curating the marketplace at FEM Fest and only highlighting female-led brands, or doing events where we give women advantage. I'm probably not supposed to say this, but if I ever have to choose between a male and female brand and it comes down to the line, if they're both equally deserving, I would always go with the woman. I know how much harder it is for a female brand to get into certain situations. We need more female-led streetwear brands. Shout out to Ayanfe from WWYD, Tolu from Meji Meji.
The world tour hit Lagos, Dubai, Cape Town, London, LA, Abuja, and Accra. How did you adapt Street Souk's identity across different cities?
The most important thing about Street Souk, and I guess about our core ethos and me as an individual as well as being Nigerian, is whatever room you go into, you shake it up. Instead of adapting to fit them, you make them adapt to fit you. That's the mindset I go with when I go into any of these cities. I'm going in there to give you the Lagos experience. You don't want me in your city to give you something that you've had before, or to dumb it down so it's easily digestible or palatable.
So we always make sure that wherever we're standing up, we're really showing up for our city, that people can feel like, "Oh, it feels like I'm in Nigeria," or "It feels like I'm at Street Souk Lagos." That's definitely the mindset we go into all our pop-ups with. We're not trying to adapt to where we are. We're trying to get them to adapt to who we are.
Street Souk now hosts 100+ vendors and 5,000+ attendees, it has become a marketplace as much as a cultural moment. How do you ensure brands are actually making sales, not just getting exposure?
The one thing we keep at the centre: it's an event where you come to shop. Shopping is the core. Buying and selling, trade is the core. Everything else is a bonus. It would never be a situation where you're going for a concert and shopping is added value. Streetwear is at the core. Music, vibes, food, that's a nice add-on. People already know they're coming to shop. Our percentage of brands that sell out, that make record amounts of money, and our retention of brands that always want to come back is extremely high. So I think we're doing a pretty good job in that department.
You've said the goal is to be bigger than ComplexCon. What would an African streetwear convention need to offer, in terms of experiences, brand access, exclusives, to reach that level?
The problem with this question is a lot of it is infrastructural. A lot of it at this point is out of my control. Things like the ability to get goods in and out of the country easily. So for example, let's say we have a brand deal with a Nike or so and they want to come and show up at Street Souk in a real way like they do at ComplexCon, them getting their goods in has to be easy. The purchasing power of the nation, the economic situation, people being able to afford these goods. The venues, ComplexCon has maybe three, four hundred brands and still has space for a festival. There's nowhere like that in Nigeria or West Africa indoors yet.
And also the appetite of sponsors. Sponsors are the ones that make events like this happen. We're still in a situation where we have to explain to sponsors why this is important. Some are just starting to see the youth is the future, let's invest in them, let's tap in with them.
But Africa has the numbers. Nigeria alone has the numbers. Seventy-five percent of our population is under twenty-five. A third of the world's online users in the next ten years will be based in Africa. The data is showing we can take over. Infrastructurally, we just need the help of people who can make a difference.
What advice would you give designers starting out in 2026?
The first thing about starting your own brand is create your hero product. Find out what that one product is going to be for your brand that you can sell thousands and thousands of units of in different colours, in different shapes and sizes of the same product in order to gain brand equity. Let people see that product and know it's your brand.
Kai Collective has her vest top that generated over a million pounds in revenue for her brand. Corteiz had the tracksuits that they started off with. Most brands that have really gone on to be super successful, they have that hero product that they're known for, and then they use that product to enter the markets and then they can flex their creativity and do everything else they always wanted to do. But don't try and go in too quick doing everything.
Become a master of something, and then when you have the capital, you can play into all the different things you want to do. That's definitely one of the most important things I've learned over the years.
And make sure you reference, make sure you look at brands that are already existing, but do not copy them. There's a big difference between referencing, getting inspiration, and straight up dubbing. Do not be a dub. Just get your inspiration, do your research, do your referencing, have a strong story to tell. Most brands that are doing really well now have a story to tell. People want to buy to be part of the brand. It's more than just selling t-shirts these days. You're buying into something. So that's really important.
Eight years in, what was the Nigerian streetwear ecosystem missing that Street Souk provided?
An infrastructure. A place where you could find all these brands in one place, almost like a directory. An epicentre. One place where you could go and find everything. It was missing a community. There were brands, but no synergy. No scene. Just a bunch of different people doing different things. Being able to bring everything together and define it is what Street Souk provided.
And that global push, the platform that got Davido to wear these Nigerian brands, that got your favourite artists from here and abroad paying attention. Street Souk legitimised streetwear in Nigeria and Africa as you know it. People were like: Okay, this is something that exists. This is something we can look at.
What's next?
This year is about to be our most exciting year. We have a lot of sick collaborations coming out, local and global. I'm really excited about them. Nothing I can necessarily speak on now, I'm NDA'd out, but I'm really, really excited. It's going to be the most special year yet.
This is our year of expansion. I feel like we're really about to get to that next level and that next step. You should look out for our e-commerce store. We launched it officially last year. We're onboarding a lot of new brands from Nigeria, from across Africa, and from our friends in the diaspora as well. We're going to have a really incredible selection at Street Souk.
We also have a physical space within the Homecoming concept store where you'll be able to shop everything online in person, just for that in-person experience, you want to go try it on, see how it feels. We also have the Street Souk After Dark, which is our monthly activation where we'll be curating different brands on a monthly basis, different DJs, different artists, a chance to come and discover what's next in our community, what's next on the scene. I'm really excited about this. It has a lot of potential to be something really incredible.
We're just in that cycle where this is the next generation of what is going to be mainstream or what is going to be the next big thing, and we're lucky enough to be an incubator for a lot of these brands, a lot of these artists, a lot of these different forms of talent. We're also going on a university tour in Nigeria. Of course, we're going on a global tour as well, hitting up some new places, hitting up some of our stomping grounds already. I'm really excited for the university tour, just tapping in with the youths out here, seeing what people are doing, activating their brands in a lot of design competitions. We have a lot of really sick stuff coming up this year. I'm super excited. I can't wait for everything to start officially rolling out.
Midway through, Ireti says something that lands differently the second time you read it: "We're not trying to adapt to where we are. We're trying to get them to adapt to who we are." She says it like it's obvious.At this point, it is. Ireti knows exactly what Street Souk is; an epicentre, an infrastructure, a legitimiser, and she's known since she was 18, standing in her mother's event space, imagining a version for people who dress like her, her generation. Eight years later, the vision has only sharpened. The e-commerce store. The physical retail space. The After Dark monthly activations. The university tour. The global expansion. Every decision connects back to the same vision she had at 18.
And at the centre of it all, a woman who still personally reviews every single one of those thousand plus brand applications, because she understands that what shows up at Street Souk is not just representing another convention, it's representing an entire continent's creative output.
Ireti Zaccheaus didn't wait for the infrastructure to exist. She built it. And eight years later, she's still building. Tastemaker, Curator, Architech of StreetSouk.
On Monday last week I woke up sizzling with excitement over the 79th British Academy Film Awards (BAFTA). In the days and weeks before, I had engaged friends and film enthusiasts in effervescent conversations regarding the awards—which is perhaps an elegant way of saying I trotted out my predictions to anyone who cared to listen. On the night of the show, I considered staying up to follow the event, but the prospect of getting updates alongside the discordant tweets I knew awaited me the next morning seemed more alluring.
At the crack of dawn, as shafts of amber-hued sunlight pushed through my blinds, I grabbed my phone and immediately typed in the keywords: “BAFTA,” “Winners.” What popped up left me completely shell-shocked. Award shows, by their very nature, tend to elicit drama but not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine a white man yelling the N-word at two black actors. In hindsight, foreclosing the possibility of this terrible gaffe seems a tad too generous on my part. John Davidson, the offender, suffers from Tourette’s and has been known to hurl obscenities especially when the situation demands utmost civility.
In the hours that followed, the scandal filled up my social media timeline. Opinions were split between indicting Davidson and defending him. Amid the bedlam, one thing became clear: in this case, there are no easy answers, no tidy narratives with a clear aggressor and victim. Like the BAFTA controversy, the other topics I interrogate in this installment of Pop Takes—an original column in which I interrogate some of the most culturally relevant Pop culture topics—defy easy resolutions. Against the backdrop of an endlessly polarized political landscape, I hope that in working through these topics, walking the tightrope between showing empathy and holding on to our values, we’re reminded of the importance of applying nuance to situations and defying the tyranny of binary logic: two truths can, and very often do, coexist.
Unpacking The BAFTA Debacle
Dressed in crisp dark suits, Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo stood behind the lectern, poised to deliver the first BAFTA of the night when a word drifted from behind the hall—40 rows behind the stage—sending the 2,700-seater hall filled with the crème de la creme of the movie business into an eerie silence. Those few seconds of silence seemed to last for ages and while Jordan would retain his characteristic stoicism, Lindo's jaw slacked with bracing alacrity, his mouth a door wide ajar. Tourette Syndrome activist John Davidson had blurted out the N-word, putatively spurred on by his implacable tics. Davidson was in attendance for the film ‘I Swear’, nominated in several categories, and inspired by his life. Expectedly this incident has left social media simmering with forceful debates, recriminations, and polemics. Why was Davidson allowed access to a microphone when his tics are a matter of public knowledge? Is Tourette’s syndrome simply a smokescreen for what appeared to be unvarnished racism? What is the path forward from all of this?
This is a conversation that resists simplistic resolutions, the binary logic we love to apply when adjudicating cultural events. It is first important to revisit what Tourette’s Syndrome is. The neurodevelopmental condition, which affects less than 1 percent of the global population, is characterized by involuntary movement and sounds—essentially your body acting in defiance of you. Davidson’s variant of the disorder, characterized by profane outbursts, is much rarer, affecting about 10-20% of the general Tourette Syndrome population.
Davidson’s history of Tourette-induced swearing is however well-documented. Years ago, as he received his MBE, he yelled “(expletive) the Queen.” He once blurted “You’re going to die” while on a visit to a woman with cancer. During the BAFTA awards, Davidson blurted out about 10 offensive words in total, including calling this year’s host Alan Cumming a pedophile. All of which is to say despite how offensive and disconcerting it was to hear that word sully a high point for two exemplary Black men, especially during Black History Month, the available evidence suggests that it wasn’t his intention to say the word.
Nonetheless, two truths can coexist. We can acknowledge that Davidson's faux-pas issued from his disorder whilst also recognizing the damage it caused. As someone with OCD, I know firsthand how debilitating mental illness can be. But I find it extremely curious that Davidson has at no point made an attempt to issue an apology to the people his actions directly affected. He has made a show of asserting his innocence, claiming to be distraught and explaining that he has no control over his tics and calling out the BAFTA team for placing a microphone so close to him knowing how spontaneous and his tics can be. He has expressed his consternation at the whole debacle airing on television. Before the show, the BAFTA team reportedly assured him that his tics would be excised from the broadcast footage. There’s much to be said about how poorly the BAFTA team and the BBC, which broadcast the event, have handled all of this. Consider that Akinola Davies' speech was cut short, in the broadcast, to exclude the parts in which he calls for a free Palestine but they saw it fit to broadcast the N-word to the world. Nonetheless, the path to reconciliation begins with the ways in which one’s actions, accidental or otherwise, have caused harm and then issuing an earnest apology.
Nigerian Ace Singer Simi Finds Herself in a Controversy
For some two weeks now Nigerian singer Simi has found herself at the heart of a roiling controversy. This month in Nigeria, several victims of rape or assault have called out their abusers on social media. Each call-out sent waves of sadness, grief, and anger reverberating across the country, setting off a reckoning on social media. And while many of the nation’s celebrities largely steered clear of the conversation, Simi bravely bemoaned the endemic sexual violence in the country through a bracingly heartfelt tweet in which she called for the nation to stop raping its women. “Women are terrified to go out. Women in their homes are not safe either. Ask your sisters. Ask your female friends and your girlfriends. Ask your wives. We're not all crazy. STOP RAPING WOMEN!!” The tweet partly reads. Before long, her comments section had morphed into something resembling a marauding mob: essentially composed of men denigrating her for myriad inane reasons. Days after, however, the story would take a surprisingly dreadful turn.
Internet sleuths exhumed pedophilic tweets the singer had posted on a lark years ago, many of them well over a decade old. The fallout was immediate and, as one would expect, chaotic, leaving many who had rallied behind her earlier at a loss for what to do. Many of the problematic tweets have been deleted now and Simi has issued a statement addressing the issue. In it she pushes against the narrative that she was depraved, arguing that—at 23 years of age, when she made most of those tweets—she was “cheeky” and tweeted everything that happened in her life. Suffice it to say the statement only served to exacerbate the scandal.
It goes without saying that the events of the past few days are incredibly sensitive and require nuance to untangle. Misogyny, rape, and pedophilia are great evils that somehow perform an elaborate tango in this convoluted scandal. Further complicating matters is the fact that the sleuths who surfaced Simi’s disturbing tweets did so not out of concern but as retribution for the tweets in which she condemns rape. Nonetheless, the two truths, once again, can coexist. Simi must be commended for standing in solidarity with victims of assault, especially in defiance of the rabid misogyny that’s increasingly prevalent online. But we must also condemn her deeply disturbing tweets, because turning a blind eye to them would make us no different from those who sit on the sidelines when issues of social justice are being addressed.
Is Pitchfork Biased Against Black Music?
Three recent reviews from the cheeky and irreverent internet-native music publication Pitchfork have revived an age-old question: Does Pitchfork have a bias against black music and musicians? The platform recently published scathing reviews of J Cole’s ‘The Fall Off,’ Brent Faiyaz’s ‘Icon,’ and Baby Keem’s ‘Casino.’ Responding to Pitchfork rating his album a 5.8 wrote on his Instagram Stories: “Ay Pitchfork I'm sorry for not paying ya'll but can I get an honest album review just 1 time for the 1 time?”
It’s well known that Pitchfork, despite its storied history and generally respected critical tone, hasn’t historically been the best arbiter of Black music. The platform tends to favor experimental and artistically ambitious music, which means its Best New Music section is often graced by left-field, avant-garde offerings. The platform, like most others, has also just begun to include more Black and minority groups within its editorial team. Nonetheless, suggesting a bias against Black music is disingenuous. In February alone, three of the six projects in its Best New Albums’ category have been Rap albums. Ella Mai’s ‘Do You Still Love Me?’ received favorable ratings and a song from the project was featured in the Best New Song category. Seeing some of the most anticipated projects by Black artists get crushed might give the impression that the publication has a bias towards Black music. But zooming out reveals a more nuanced picture. Could it be that these projects, whose enormous marketing budgets have all but ensured that they are up in our faces, aren’t all that impressive?
In recent weeks, social media, or perhaps more appropriately, the corner of social media concerned with all things Nigerian music, has lit up with something resembling holy indignation over a seven-month-old Billboard article. The article, titled ‘The Biggest One Hit Wonders of the 25th Century,’ puts Rema at the number six spot, on account of his putative failure to reprise the surreal heights he attained with ‘Calm Down’ remix, featuring Selena Gomez. “The No. 3-peaking "Calm Down" was obviously not veteran pop superstar Gomez's only hit, but Rema has yet to make it to the Hot 100 again,” the article notes, in a tone that seems somewhere between dour and cheeky. “Although he has landed six top 10s on the U.S. Afrobeats Songs, through the June 7, 2025, chart,” the writer follows, on a somewhat conciliatory note.
It was a sedate Sunday afternoon when I happened upon a tweet decrying the article as malicious. Before long my timeline had transformed into a sizzling pastiche of takes and polemics on the subject. Rival fans seized upon the article, wielding it to downplay Rema’s impact on Afrobeats. I found this ironic, if Rema, who made the biggest Afrobeats song and has constantly bent the culture to his will at every turn in his career was suddenly insignificant because of a Billboard article, what claims does anyone else on the scene have to significance? Expectedly, fans of Rema and Nigerian music enthusiasts have forcefully railed against the Billboard article. Even those who have maintained an ambivalent stance, have been no less involved in the conversation. What all of this immediately gestures at is the immense significance the Billboard Chart holds in this part of the world.
But even this assessment barely captures the full picture. Weeks ago, the Grammys, in usual fashion, set off a salvo of debates, ranging from conversations about who deserved to win in the recently minted Best African Music Performance category to debates on the relevance of the category. Taken together, these underscore the degree to which Western validation has become a mainstay in the Nigerian music industry. The question then becomes: Why is this so? Why do Nigerian music enthusiasts care so much about western validation? Putting aside the singular cultural influence the western world, America in particular, wields over the rest of the world, and the fact that American charts and awards have come to be lodestars for music scenes across the world, Nigerian music artists and stakeholders disproportionately value western validation for the same reasons droves of Nigerians migrate to these regions every year: the desire for better opportunities.
Nigerian artists are nowhere near being unique in their fascination with American success. Stretching back to the early days of the country, America has attracted strivers from around the world, eager to make good on their American dreams. And Nigerian artists are no different. Winning a Grammy or scoring a Billboard Hot 100 hit instantly signals ascendancy into a rarefied club. It also translates to increased commercial success, as well as visibility and access. For everyday Nigerian music fans, who relish a good grass-to-grace story, it's not hard to see the appeal of success on the Billboard Charts or the Grammy stage; and by extension, why we care so much about what the Billboard charts have to say about our artists. But I suspect it also owes something to our local metrics of success being in a shambolic state.
The Headies, which is supposed to be the Nigerian equivalent of the Grammys, continues barreling towards obsolescence. Every year, the show’s production quality and organizational problems drive a wedge between the award and fans. These days the nation's biggest artists don't bother attending and the complaints of former years have given way to collective apathy. The Turntable Charts, the nation’s eminent music chart, despite the best efforts, still struggles to muster the widespread acceptance and cultural cachet it needs to be a cultural authority in Africa in the way the Billboard Charts is in America and indeed much of the western hemisphere. On this front, it has to be noted that the good people of the Turntable Charts are doing an excellent job and require all the funding and institutional support they can get to maximize their potential.
It’s tempting to wrap up this piece with a feel-good rallying call for Nigerian music fans and stakeholders to avert their gaze from Western honors and milestones, even if only momentarily, and look inwards. It’s true that in our pursuit of global domination, we have neglected local institutions, and that now more than ever we need to return to building structures and systems that can better serve the local industry. But I’ll be remiss if I fail to call out Western music institutions for their half-assed efforts at recognizing Afrobeats or Nigerian music as a whole. When you take the Billboards Chart branding Rema a “one-hit wonder”—which makes no sense regardless of whatever angle we look at it from (he’s not an American artist, so why should the Billboards Hot 100 be used to decide his hits?—and the fracture between the Grammys and current trends within Afrobeats, what one finds is that while these platforms constantly affirm their interest in Nigerian music, they’re often unwilling to do the work required to properly recognize the genre.
Fashion weeks are markers of regional identity. Each city approaches the season with its own tone and visual language. Since January, we’ve had Autumn/Winter 2026 presentations through Berlin, Milan and Paris — and from February 19 - 23, London stepped forward with a schedule that felt especially vibrant.
The city’s atmosphere was amplified by the presence of the BAFTA Awards, but what we can appreciate most is the sense of discovery threaded throughout the week. Beyond the major names, the schedule was rich with debuts and emerging designers whose work felt deeply considered and emotionally grounded.
With that being said, here’s a rundown of some of our favorite presentations from London Fashion Week AW26:
Kazna Asker
Kazna Asker presented a collection shaped by process, storytelling and layered cultural reference. Showing as part of the British Fashion Council NewGen programme, the designer transformed the 180 Studios space into a warm, sunset-washed environment that mirrored the emotional tone of the work.Titled Hour of the Sunset, the collection drew from Asker’s travels across Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Zimbabwe and India throughout 2025, weaving together references to craft, heritage and movement. Intricate embroidery, carefully constructed accessories and textural depth gave the impression that each piece carried history.
What stands out the most is the sincerity of the work — garments feel thoughtful and emotionally anchored. Kazna Asker creates clothing that feels alive with memory, and that sense of care was visible in every detail.
Jawara Alleyne
For AW26, Jawara Alleyne presented his collection as an immersive gallery installation, exploring fashion through a sociological lens. The set-up — featuring walls, plinths and seating — encouraged viewers to move through the space slowly, engaging with the garments as objects of reflection. The collection examined the diminishing number of communal nightlife spaces and how clothing functions within those environments. Deconstructed polo shirts, layered jersey constructions and lace moved through the presentation, and the collaboration with Converse added an accessible dimension, grounding the conceptual work in everyday wearability.
The presentation format was distinctive throughout LFW. It created room for conversation and observation, allowing the work to be experienced collectively. And successfully homes in on that feeling of sculptural expressions of community and self-presentation.
Leo Prothmann
Munich-born designer Leo Prothmann delivered a leather-driven collection that balanced subtle eroticism and contemporary edge. Titled Gaia, the collection referenced the primordial Greek deity as a point of departure for exploring creation, protection and embodiment.
Leather appeared throughout as both armor and statement, shaping bombers, structured outerwear and dramatically elevated wader boots. The collection blended gothic undertones with playful exaggeration with the vibrant oranges, yellows and greens, creating silhouettes that were bold and expressive. What can be appreciated most is the tension that Leo Prothmann carries in his work. The collection feels confident in its hybridity and allows multiple references to sit together without dilution.
Oscar Ouyang
For his sophomore outing on the London Fashion Week calendar, Oscar Ouyang staged something closer to theatre than a traditional runway. Presented within the British Fashion Council NewGen space at 180 Strand, and titled The Last Party, the collection read as a final, decadent gathering before morning breaks. Capes, cummerbunds and regency-inflected waistcoats appeared in moody shades of black, white and crimson. Hints of gold shimmered throughout, woven into fabrics, glinting from masks and even traced through the models’ hair, which added a sense of alchemy to the spectacle.
Technically, the work felt assured. French wool tweeds, virgin wool and llama blends gave structure to sharply tailored silhouettes, while silk evening shirts were knitted with subtle undulations that referenced tuxedo pleats. Despite the theatrical staging, nothing tipped fully into costume. The result was dramatic but still somehow controlled.
Selasi
Elsewhere on the schedule, Selasi returned to the runway with their collection titled Endurance, which translated that idea into ready-to-wear shaped by tension and adaptability. Dresses, skirts and tailoring were reconstructed from donated PE kits from Walthamstow School for Girls, alongside repurposed tracksuits from Pangaia. Familiar sportswear materials were elevated through deconstruction, with handmade skirts and trouser-skirt hybrids saturated in earthy browns and beiges. Sculptural leather pieces draped unexpectedly across the body, adding structure to the otherwise athletic references. Pops of green and yellow disrupted the neutral palette, appearing in asymmetrical jerseys paired with tailored trousers.
The show carried a raw, improvisational energy that mirrored its theme. Nothing felt overly polished. Instead, there was urgency and intention in equal measure — a reflection of its founder Ronan McKenzie’s place among London’s most compelling emerging voices.
Lucila Safdie
Lucila Safdie’s AW26 collection balanced polished femininity with subtle defiance. The show was a theatrical coming-of-age story. Polished on the surface, and framed around the fictional debut of a character named Bunny Bell, the show examined the performance of femininity through a distinctly Y2K lens, and was able to explore girlhood as performance and transformation.
The mood was glossy but slightly uncanny, and on the runway, that tension materialized through contrast. Traditional signifiers of English propriety like wool overcoats, tweed boleros, polo dresses and refined evening gowns were all present, and interrupted by playful disruptions. Ultra-short mini skirts and capris, slogan tees, trainers and cropped blouses introduced a Y2K irreverence that complicated the debutante archetype. Safdie positions femininity as something rehearsed and reinterpreted rather than inherited whole, and it’s precisely this balance that makes her work feel current.
This season was London’s commitment to emotional clarity. The week felt more invested in perspective — designers using clothing to document memory, interrogate community and explore the body with intention. From deeply personal craft to presentations rooted in collective experience, these collections showed LFW as a space where emerging voices are able to experiment without losing sincerity.
More than anything, AW26 felt like a reminder that discovery remains one of London Fashion Week’s greatest strengths. Not just discovering new designers, but new ways of seeing clothing altogether, across sport halls, masquerade balls, marble salons and sunset-drenched runways alike.
“Street style emerged from Black culture producing fashion — continuously, collectively, and without permission”
There is a particular kind of amnesia that fashion depends on. Every season arrives with the promise of discovery, as if silhouettes appear fully formed or trends are spontaneous. The spectacle thrives on this illusion. By the time an aesthetic becomes the subject of trend forecasting, it has usually lived elsewhere, refined without institutional approval and circulated through communities that were never considered part of fashion’s official archive.
Street style sits squarely within this pattern. It’s easy for cameras to flash and street style to be framed as spontaneous — fashion’s democratic counterpart to the exclusivity of the runway. But the mythology of spontaneity conceals that what is celebrated as street style today is built on a long history of Black cultural invention that extends across Africa and its diaspora.
Black street style has always existed and for many Black communities, fashion was never just presentation. It was evidence of self. A way to hold dignity, and a way to communicate belonging to each other even when broader culture refused to understand. Across the African continent, dress systems functioned as language before Western fashion institutions formed their hierarchies. Textile traditions like kente, mud cloth, and Ankara prints encoded lineage and philosophy through pattern and colour. Adornment was intentional. These were all systems of meaning, and precisely why street style does not begin with trend logic. It begins with presence.
The political stakes of appearance within Black life predates some aspects of what we now recognize as streetstyle. During the 1960s, visual presentation operated as ideological language. The uniform of the Black Panther Party, for example, communicated collective discipline and resistance through leather jackets, berets, and controlled silhouettes, transforming clothing into visual rhetoric. Around the same time, glamour moved through Black music in mainstream media in ways that felt equally political. Watching Diana Ross appear in sequins and immaculate styling, radiant and fully adored on screen, was visibility that felt expansive. These moments did not carry the language of street style at the time, but they established its philosophical groundwork that dressing is assertion.
By the 1970s, expression widened. Funk and disco allowed Black style to move toward joy without abandoning resistance. Artists like Chaka Khan embodied a kind of sensual freedom that translated directly into everyday dressing. Metallic fabrics, platform shoes, dramatic hair, unapologetic colour — these choices felt intentional. Groups such as Parliament-Funkadelic blurred costume and identity completely, proving that exaggeration could be its own form of truth. Street style absorbed that energy.
Across the diaspora, similar logics unfolded. In Congo, La Sape reinterpreted European tailoring through Congolese self-determination. These turned sharply tailored suits into declarations of dignity in postcolonial space. In Jamaica, Rastafarian aesthetics fused spirituality with visibility, natural hair, colour symbolism, and silhouette functioning as political theology. In Black Britain, grime culture transformed tracksuits and sportswear into a language shaped by council estates and youth negotiating surveillance and belonging. None of these were not isolated movements but parallel articulations of the same impulse: to style oneself as a way of claiming space.
Hip-hop did not invent Black street style, but it changed how the world consumed it. With hip-hop’s emergence in the 1970s New York, the conditions through which these earlier aesthetic impulses would crystallize into what would later be identified as street style. The same sampling logic that structured hip-hop sonically shaped fashion practices, as Black youth repurposed sportswear, workwear, and luxury symbols into expressive uniform. What emerged from block parties and neighbourhood economies eventually rewrote global fashion priorities. Oversized silhouettes, sportswear as everyday luxury, sneakers as status language were not manufactured trends. They reflected resourcefulness and aspiration existing side by side. Garments were stripped of their original intention and reassembled to reflect neighbourhood identity, economic reality, and aspirational imagination simultaneously.
At the same time, oversized garments disrupted traditional tailoring norms, sneakers gained emotional and symbolic weight, and logos were worn with an awareness that blended aspiration with critique.
Few figures illustrate the politics of this reinterpretation more clearly than Dapper Dan, whose Harlem atelier reconstructed European luxury monograms into silhouettes tailored to hip-hop life. By remixing visual codes from Gucci and Louis Vuitton, he exposed the contradiction of desiring access to symbols of prestige while being structurally excluded from the institutions producing them. His work was not counterfeit in the cultural sense but theoretical, and decades later, the industry’s collaborations with him confirmed a recurring pattern in which Black creativity is first criminalized, then imitated, and eventually celebrated once economic potential becomes undeniable.
Street style’s authorship is also inseparable from Black queer expression. Ballroom culture created alternative fashion systems in which performance, fantasy, and identity experimentation were required. The visual excess of ballroom — gowns, tailoring, dramatic styling — offered a space where Black and Latinx queer communities could construct visibility outside of societal limitation. Way before gender fluidity became a marketable concept, these communities had already established fashion as a site of self-determined identity instead of fixed categorization.
Sneaker culture is another reference point that shows how street style transforms ordinary objects into narrative artefacts. Michael Jordan and Nike’s partnership catalyzed a whole cultural economy in which sneakers became evidence of participation within a shared cultural conversation.
As hip-hop globalized, so too did the aesthetics rooted within it. By the late 1990s and early 2000s, silhouettes and styling practices born in Black neighbourhoods had migrated into editorial fashion, advertising, and luxury design. The transition was however reframed as discoveries rather than translations. This pattern reflects a broader tension within fashion’s relationship to Black creativity: innovation generated within marginalized communities is frequently detached from its origin once it becomes commercially viable. What is celebrated as universal style often began as culturally specific expression shaped by social constraint and creative resourcefulness.
Even today, the cyclical return of oversized denim, tracksuits, visible branding, and customized accessories does not signal nostalgia so much as the persistence of Black cultural archives continually resurfacing. Social media has definitely accelerated this circulation but this oftentimes complicates its authorship. Visibility has increased, but attribution remains uneven, and although street style is omnipresent, it is persistently decontextualized.
Understanding street style as a Black invention therefore requires confronting the politics of recognition embedded within fashion itself. It challenges the assumption that legitimacy originates within institutions and instead locates innovation within lived experience. Street style established the now-dominant belief that individuality could outrank designer authority, that community could function as tastemaker, and that fashion could emerge from improvisation.
What remains radical about the origins of street style is not any particular garment. It was the refusal of Black communities across continents to depend on validation. Fashion often narrates history through singular designers and landmark collections, but street style shows innovation as collective, improvised, and resistant to ownership. And even as luxury fashion still repeatedly mines its aesthetics and corporations convert its imagery into capital, the generative force continues to emerge from Black communities documenting themselves in ways that exceed trend cycles.
To pay attention to Black street style means understanding that fashion’s most compelling ideas rarely begin within institutions. They begin with people dressing themselves for their own lives, their own communities, their own sense of joy and survival. The industry arrives later, reframing what already existed as discovery. But the origin remains intact. Street style emerged from Black culture producing fashion — continuously, collectively, and without permission.
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Merging functional wear with niche, experimental elevations, Kody Phillips designs for the creative freelancer. In collaboration with the fashion brand Who Decides War, the five-piece collection centers around workwear, while dissecting and reimagining it through eccentric style. Phillips plays with this idea of worker versatility – in concept, and in practice. The nucleus of the project focuses not on the pinstripe corporate-esque pant suit, but rather the daily uniform of the freelancer: rugged, functional; durable. By situating workwear within the varying freelancer worlds, we envision workwear multidimensionally —
Workwear as utility,
Workwear as playful
Workwear deconstructed.
With his meticulous stitching and design sensibility, Phillips simultaneously adds playfulness to his pieces. White, distressed denim pants are met with strokes of multi-colored paint, while the tailored camp shirt is met with intricate custom jewels, complete with intricate braided piping.
At the closing party for this fashion collab capsule, Deeds Magazine met with designer Kody Phillips to talk more about his vision and process, ruminations on perfectionism, the power of digital storytelling, and what lies on the road ahead.
Tell us a bit more about this collaboration with TurboTax—what was the first thing that came to mind when you were brought with this opportunity?
The first thing I thought was… This is crazy. Just crazy like, how? And why? And what do they want me to make?
Indeed, it’s an interesting collaboration.
Yeah. Very interesting. It was very out of the blue. I don't know why they did it, but thank God they did. It gave me some good freedom. I made some good pieces. And after that, I was excited.
As an artist and designer, how do you connect financial literacy within the realm of art?
It's a good time because we're very poor right now. We're in cycles of growing, so we got a lot of money going out. So it was right on time to teach other artists, designers, and creatives about financial literacy and how to avoid the mistakes I made.
I also used them when I did start— like my very first year of business, I did use TurboTax.
Ev [Bravado] was one of my first inspirations from Who Decides War. So that collaboration has been amazing. And Hypebeast is, of course, incredible. So it was an honor.
A lot of the ways that you think and approach design really mirrors the thematic elements in the Dandy Exhibit at the MET— fusing Black expression and really thinking about utility as a concept for the piece. So talk to me about utility, in terms of your design process.
I don't know. I never think about it. It's like, it just comes.
Why wouldn't you want your things to do the thing it's supposed to do? That’s where a lot of this stuff comes from, like, a pocket that is actually big enough for your hand or deep things is useful. I don't understand why you wouldn't design in this way. The reason pockets are small and shitty and thin, like fabrics, is because they hate you. That's the only reason. There's no other reason.
It's like, why wouldn't it be good?
I know another theme that is really resonant for you is persistence over perfection. And I think it's a really important concept, especially for creators existing in this creative economy. We all want to have this perfect mindset on things. And so I think for you, and this fashion capsule, and having your own place here in Soho, which is incredible— talk to me a bit more about that idea of persistence over perfection.
Perfection is so stupid. It's so dumb. Like, it doesn't exist, you know? The bigger you get, the more real deadlines are, and your first anything is going to suck. And no matter what, putting something out, I mean, I would never put something out that I'm not happy with because that's ridiculous… I would never do that. But — you fucking run as fast as you can to get it as good as you possibly can, with what you have right now, for a price and a design language that people will accept quickly, you know? I'm not a perfectionist. It's silly. It's boring. Boring!
This collection feels like it's for the modern creative CEO. How did you reinvent traditional professional codes to fit the lifestyle of an independent creative in 2026?
Yeah, I designed it specifically around creatives. I mean, I've been very fortunate to work with a lot of people this year, a lot of freelancers, and not one of them has shown up in a thin ass pinstripe suit. They've all come in Carhart jeans. You know, rugged shit. So we made it pre-distressed and durable like that, so you can wear it out. We made this for the modern freelancer. I know gaffers that are on the ground 24/7, you know? So I designed around us. And I think that was a cool juxtaposition of financial literacy in suits, against a rugged, distressed freelancer.
Were you able to experiment with any new fabric sourcing or hardware details that were previously out of reach?
Yes, I was. That goes into financial literacy— I used TurboTax to pay for the hardware. The jacket with the nice little hooks, the fireman jacket— I've been trying to get it off the ground, but that design relies so heavily on the hardware and it's so expensive to get in bulk. Once they did this, I was like, I'm pitching this and they bought it and I was like, hell yes, I can buy the rest of my hardware to cover those. I experimented with new hardwares. Hardware's great. It's a really fun thing to do. It's a cheap-ish way to elevate a simple garment without going overboard while reaching a wider audience.
How important is it, while you're designing, to also support the sustainability of a brand financially? Especially right now, you know, in this economy… in this world.
Yeah.. Yeah. No, it's hard. You don't want to think about it. You know, I didn't start thinking about it. I don't love thinking about money. I don't desire anything. But, you know, with a team of 11 people, you got a lot of responsibility on your hands, you know? So you got to start really, really thinking about it, and that really sucks. But you have to balance it out with creative freedom and getting your little wins. Me as a person is much smaller than me as a business, you know? Business is first, I am nothing. So I take less to give more to the business. We give up our paychecks pretty quick. You have to just try to give back as much as you possibly can and just hope that it works out.
As long as I can eat and sleep, I'm okay.
What would you say is next, in your next unconventional territory in the design world?
I really like what we're doing for campaigns. That was like a huge revelation moment. It was so fun.
I think that's the new runway. I was just at the panel with Ev and Tela and they said they spent 500 grand on their last runway. Crazy, right? I spent 56, maybe 60 grand on my last campaign, and I would bet that, you know, the campaign was a little more fun. We want to reach a wider audience. It's a lower barrier to entry, and you get more time to experiment with it. We got to showcase our designs over three days as opposed to 15 minutes live.
Like what is this, the Daily Show?
It's a completely different landscape. That's where we're all at. So, like, you know, you're going on Instagram. I think digital is the way to go.
That was such an incredible way that you utilized Instagram as a medium to reach audiences, outside of the traditional runway that most brands use to market new designs.
There's so much stuff that can resonate. You can see an old scene from a film you love. And you can just recreate that in your own way.
Like what we did with “OUR LAST DANCE” a Cab Calloway reference. We had a whole orchestra, dancers, in full costume, touching on themes of fashion, fame, and death all at once. The Cab Calloway Estate commented on it. That was amazing. That was our stamp of approval right there, because I thought they'd be pissed about it. But you can do stuff like that for no money and have fun with your friends, and it lives on forever. Show your artistic expression, you know, instead of a sexy man walking down a runway in an outfit you can't afford. It’s time to start building outside of the ordinary.
Kody Phillip’s latest work can be found on his Instagram, as well as on his website.
Emem-Esther U. Ikpot
@ememIK46
(Instagram/Substack/ememikpot.com)
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The Nigerian designer talks building a fashion brand from personal need, the real cost of independent production, and a five-piece collection that puts Black women at the centre of the conversation.
Ogechi Edith Osi started St. Nuella because she couldn’t find clothes that fit. Specifically: trousers, jeans, jorts, and maxi dresses that worked for taller women without sacrificing style for length. It’s a problem that sounds small until you’re the one standing in a fitting room watching hemlines hit three inches above your ankle. That frustration became a brand.
“Fashion was honestly a hobby at the beginning,” Osi says. “I was making outfits for myself, not necessarily with the intention of turning it into a business. But whenever I wore pieces I made, people noticed. They complimented them, asked questions, and connected with the designs.”
Before the brand existed as a label, Osi was already doing the work. Friends came to her before weddings, birthdays, and special occasions for styling advice. She sketched constantly, drawing from films, magazines, events, anything that caught her eye, and found that the process of turning an idea into a garment, from sketch to pattern to final fit, was the thing she kept coming back to. “That was the moment it became clear that this was not simply a passion project, but a path I was meant to pursue with intention,” she says.
The original vision for St. Nuella was direct: create pieces that make women feel seen, confident, comfortable, and beautiful. Inclusive by design, especially for women who are overlooked in fit conversations. Every piece should carry elegance and timelessness. “At its core, St. Nuella was created to offer more than clothing,” Osi says. “It was created to give women presence.”
The Cost of Making Things Properly
There’s a conversation that keeps coming up around independent Nigerian fashion brands, and Osi addresses it directly: the assumption that because production happens locally, the final product should be cheap.
“The reality is much more complex,” she says. “A lot of the materials and tools needed for good production are imported, so costs are affected by sourcing, shipping, and exchange rates. Then there’s inconsistent power supply, alternative power solutions, machinery maintenance, these are real costs, even though they’re not always visible to the customer.”
She’s also candid about the human side of production: finding and keeping experienced tailors, investing in staff development, managing turnover. All of it feeds into the final price of a garment. “When customers see the final price of a locally made piece, especially from a luxury brand, it can sometimes feel expensive compared to foreign ready-to-wear,” Osi says. “But local brands are often producing in smaller quantities, with more attention to detail, better finishing, and in some cases bespoke options. That’s very different from mass-produced clothing.”
It’s the kind of transparency that more emerging designers could benefit from offering. The gap between what customers see in a price tag and what goes into producing a single garment in Lagos is wider than most people assume.
Growing Without Losing the Plot
For a brand St. Nuella’s size, scaling isn’t just about volume. Osi describes it as becoming more structured: improving operations, strengthening production capacity, maintaining quality as demand increases. The excitement of early momentum is real, but she’s clear-eyed about what comes after.
“In practical terms, scaling looks like increasing repeat customers, growing our retail and bespoke client base, and expanding into product areas where we know there is still a gap,” she says. “Especially for women who are often underserved in fit. That includes trousers, jackets, coats, pieces where fit and proportion matter a lot, particularly for taller women.”
The market approach is both-and, not either-or. A strong local base for trust and identity, but international growth is already happening, St. Nuella has returning customers in both Nigeria and the UK. “Over the next few years, the vision is to deepen our presence locally while expanding globally through digital platforms, community, and consistent brand storytelling,” Osi says. “We are especially interested in broader growth across Europe and the Americas, as global audiences continue to show more appreciation for Nigerian fashion.”
This is the part of the story that often gets missed when people talk about Nigerian fashion. Everyone sees the finished product. Nobody talks about the systems you have to build just to get there.
Valora: Five Dresses, Five Arguments
Which brings us to the work. Valora, from the Latin valere, meaning strength, worth, courage, is a five-piece womenswear collection released February 24, 2026. It’s Osi’s most complete statement yet on what St. Nuella is and who it’s for.
“When I was developing the collection, I was thinking a lot about how clothing should make a woman feel, not just how it should look,” she says. “I wanted each piece to feel refined and feminine, but also intentional. The kind of pieces that make you feel confident the moment you put them on.”
The collection moves through five dresses in crimson, royal blue, purple, gold, and emerald green. All bold, all saturated, and, on the lookbook evidence, all extraordinary on dark skin. Every colour pops against melanin in a way that reads as deliberate rather than coincidental. When asked whether designing the palette around melanin-rich tones was a conscious starting point, Osi’s answer is nuanced. “The colour story was very intentional,” she says. “We chose tones that felt rich, elevated, and expressive. But we did not build the collection with only one skin tone in mind. At St. Nuella, versatility and inclusivity are very important. We design with a broader view, across different skin tones, body shapes, and sizes.”
Fair enough. But the lookbook speaks for itself. These colours were made for this skin.
The crimson gown is the collection’s most traditional piece and its biggest statement. Floor length, shimmering textured fabric, ruched bodice with a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps so thin they nearly disappear. The skirt is full, pooling at the floor with the kind of volume that commands a room. This is a dinner gown. The kind of dress that starts conversations you don’t even have to join.
The purple satin piece has my favourite design detail in the collection: three dimensional sculptural loops across the bustline, hoops of fabric that curve and fold in a way that’s both unexpected and genuinely beautiful. Inspired by a trendy detail that makes you look twice and then a third time trying to figure out how it’s constructed. Below the bust, the dress gathers into a flowing skirt with thin halter straps. Those loops are the mark of a designer thinking with her hands.
The royal blue cocktail dress, which Osi calls Ugonma, is the piece she’s most proud of, and the most technically ambitious in the collection. Off-shoulder with sculptural pleated sleeves that fan outward like wings. The pleating is tight and precise: fine ridges wrapping across the bodice in an X-pattern before opening into dramatic shapes at the shoulders. Osi worked with a specific type of boning to achieve the structure, and getting the sleeves to the exact form she envisioned took multiple attempts. “The most challenging part was developing the sleeve construction,” she says. “It required a lot of patience, precision, and attention to detail to get it right.”
The body of the dress is clean and fitted, wisely letting the sleeves carry the entire visual weight. This is the piece you’d photograph from five different angles and get five different pictures.
The gold dress shifts register. Off-shoulder with soft balloon puff sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a bodycon fit through the hip. The talking point is the hemline: black circular disc appliqués with gold tassels hanging from them, creating movement and a graphic black-on-gold contrast. This is the most event ready piece in the collection, the one that photographs well in dim light.
And the emerald dress. Halter-neck, backless, with three fabric floral appliqués, one at the neckline, two at the waist. Of the five pieces, this one breathes the most. It looks like the kind of dress that catches the air when you turn quickly, and the open back adds a quiet confidence that the other pieces express differently. Osi placed three flowers and stopped. That restraint is what makes them work.
Ask Osi who the St. Nuella woman is and she doesn’t hesitate. “She’s confident, self aware, and true to herself. She’s not trying to become someone else through fashion. She uses fashion as an extension of who she already is.” What she describes is a woman who dresses with intention rather than trend: “There is a quiet certainty about her, and you feel it before she speaks. Whether she chooses to be bold or subtle in a particular moment, it is always on her own terms.” That tracks across all five Valora pieces. None of them shout. All of them hold the room.
Osi’s next move is into elevated office wear and structured wardrobe staples. Coats, suits, tailored blazers, trousers, officewear gowns. The direction is clean tailoring with St. Nuella’s signature emphasis on femininity and fit.
“Think of a perfectly tailored women’s suit, a well-cut blazer and trousers, strong lines, refined construction, and a beautiful fit,” she says. “We want to give our woman more options for how she shows up, especially in work and professional spaces, without losing the elegance and presence that define St. Nuella.”
For a brand that started because its founder couldn’t find trousers that fit, that’s a full circle moment. It’s also the smartest possible next step, office wear is where consistent fit and quality matter most, and it’s a space where smaller brands with a clear identity can punch well above their weight.
The conversation around Nigerian fashion has rightly celebrated the brands that opened the doors, the ones with the stockists, the fashion week slots, the international press. They built visibility and credibility for an entire industry, and that work matters. But behind every wave of recognition, there are brands you haven't heard of yet doing the same work at a different scale: getting the fit right, solving the production problems, building customer trust one garment at a time.
St. Nuella is one of those brands. Valora, which released February 24, is the clearest signal yet that Ogechi Edith Osi knows exactly what she’s building and exactly who she’s building it for. Five dresses. Five colours. All of them making a case that you don’t need a hundred pieces to prove you belong in the conversation. You just need the right five.
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We truly thought that South East London Zimbabwean-born rapper Leostaytrill couldn’t be any more talented, but he proved us all wrong. At such a young age, Leo embodies determination, persistence and a growing music catalogue that has placed Zimbabwe’s emerging talents on the map. In 2023, he made a lasting first impression with ‘2 Man’ and ‘Honeybun,’ playing around catchy punchlines and a charismatic demeanor that won the internet over just by one listen. From there, Leo’s chances to stardom only faced upwards. However, it is his recent take on melodic tunes that has us really intrigued.
This new direction caught us by surprise when Leo started teasing ‘Peace’ over social media in October. His singing voice sounded smooth, strong, with promising vocals Leo had yet to explore. This phenomena really solidified when ‘Jah Knows’ released last December. In the official music video, one specific scene, you can catch a young Leo proudly rocking the Zimbabwean flag over his neck. Just with a few details, the message was clear; Leostaytrill is not only making music for himself but also, for his Zimbabwean people.
If there’s one thing about Leo is that his country is fully behind him and supports every step he takes towards becoming the next superstar. Similarly to Pa Salieu and his predominantly Gambian audience. Leo’s approach to the inclusion of his heritage is present, but not all up your face. At times, when members of the diaspora tried to implement aspects of their heritage, it often gets labeled as tacky or inauthentic. However, Leostaytrill isn’t hiding that he is a boy of the South London’s trenches. Instead, he welcomes it through rap lyrics, while letting his singing shine a softer light, that can be interpreted as the little Zimbabwean boy in him that never left.
In the song ‘Blessing’ is where we saw no returning, but it did not come without setbacks. Like all artists are destined to face, Leo was met with multiple questions by his supporters surrounding whether he was turning a new leaf and leaving the rap game behind. Of course, Leo made sure to clarify; singing was only an extension to his artistry, and not a career move. You see, it is very common for artists to want to try new elements and for those core listeners who have only seen one side of their favourites thus far to slowly grow attached. As a result, any change can be received negatively. At times, fans may say that their acts became too Hollywood or commercial, that they forgot where they came from. The question is will Leo fall into this trap or manage to balance those two sides of him, knowing change is inevitable.
Up-and-coming singer-rapper Leostaytrill is not just a talent to watch, but also one to make notes of. When one browses through his social media, we know that Leo understands how to market himself online and he showcases his roots through a lens that many music listeners know so little of. It is his badge of honour rather than something that is supposed to limit him sonically. Ever since Drake popularized being a rapper as much as a singer, only a few artists managed to follow his footstep and keep this overall balance tasteful. Leo can certainly be the next man in the UK to follow suit. That’s to say, it may be the biggest risk he has yet taken in his career, but from the looks of it, Leo has the golden touch meant for greatness.
It’s December in Lagos; a season filled with back-to-back events, launches, pop-ups, and celebrations. But among the noise, ARANINI FEST stood out. Rooted in wellness and created intentionally for women, the gathering offered something deeper than just another end-of-year event.
Following the festival, Deeds Magazine sat down virtually with founder Dr. Joyce Omatseye to explore the vision behind Aranini Health, the importance of building intentional safe spaces for women, and how what began as a one-time event has evolved into a growing global community.
Aranini, which means “good health” in Itsekiri, is more than a name. It reflects founder Joyce Omatseye’s cultural background and the philosophy behind the brand. The Itsekiri people are an ethnic group from Delta State, Nigeria, and for Joyce, wellness has always been deeply personal.
Aranini Health is a wellness organisation focused on creating intentional platforms, experiences, and safe spaces for women. What began as a one-time event has since grown into a global community, with experiences hosted across multiple countries and cities including London, Accra, Kenya, and Lagos.
Reflecting on Aranini’s journey, Joyce says:
“Aranini Health started as a one-time event, but my mum encouraged me to dream bigger, and that’s how Aranini became what it is today.”
Today the brand continues to grow which is shaped by her background as a medical doctor and commitment to women’s health education. At the core of every Aranini experience is what she calls the “Aranini girl”, the woman for whom every detail is carefully considered.
“When we plan these events, the woman attending is always at the forefront,” She explains. “Everything is curated around her health and wellbeing.”
For Dr Joyce, 2025 was an incredible year both personally and professionally
“2025 was such a special year for me. Aranini Health grew in ways I couldn’t have imagined, and personally, getting engaged was a huge milestone,” she shares.
What started as a single event has grown into a thriving, multi-country community. Today, Aranini Health has hosted events across four countries, with Lagos serving as a major hub for its in-person activations. One of its most impactful gatherings so far is Aranini Fest, a full-day wellness experience designed to meet women where they are, physically, mentally, and emotionally. The event brings together fitness, health education, entrepreneurship, and community in one space.
Which exceeded Dr Joyce expectations. While the initial goal was to host about 100–120 women, over 160 attended, with many coming in and out throughout the day.
“We sold tickets, but more people showed up ,friends, family, women who were just curious,” Joyce shares. “For the first panel especially, we didn’t expect that many people to be so interested.”
Aranini Fest featured wellness panels, fitness sessions including Pilates and dance, free health checks sponsored by Provita Clinic and Tiffany Amber, and brand gifts from Arami Essentials for skincare, SLIQ Beauty for haircare, Basics for fitness wear and brands like Beautyhut. Beyond the activities, the event created a space where women could connect, learn, and feel seen.
Dr Joyce is intentional about showing the reality behind these events, often sharing behind-the-scenes moments on her personal platform.
“People see how beautiful everything looks when it comes together, but they don’t see what happens before, during, and even after,” she says.
From last-minute changes to technical setbacks , including lost footage from a videographer , resilience became a key lesson.
“I’ve learned that resilience is very important. Things don’t always go as planned, but they still work out the way they’re meant to.”
To start 2026, Aranini hosted the 2026 Reset event in Lagos, hosting 30 women for a day of reflection, and connection. The event focused on resetting and left a lasting impression on everyone who attended.
“The women who attended gave incredible feedback. It was amazing to see how much they appreciated the space, the conversations, and everything we’d planned for them,” Dr Joyce says.
The 2026 Reset reinforced Dr Joyce’s vision for Aranini: creating intentional spaces where women feel seen, cared for, and inspired to live their healthiest lives.
One of the interesting things Dr Joyce says about this journey is how it’s helped her discover different parts of herself.“I’ve always loved planning events. My first women’s health event was actually in Year 10. In secondary school, I did a breast cancer awareness event for my school. Event planning has been something I’ve naturally done over the years, and to be able to incorporate that with my medical journey, it’s been incredible.”
Questions about the future including the possibility of an Aranini clinic or hospital come up often. While that vision exists, Dr Joyce is clear that it will come in time.“That’s something that will eventually come,” she says. “Right now, we’re focused on understanding what women actually need and how we can best provide that.”
As Aranini Health continues to grow, its focus is shifting towards accessibility and sustainability. While physical events remain important, Joyce is placing strong emphasis on expanding Aranini’s virtual offerings to reach women who may not be able to attend in person.“We want to reach more people,” she explains. “There are women who want to be part of the community and gain value from it, even if they can’t attend physical events.”With plans for more virtual events, continued community building, and long-term healthcare solutions, Aranini Health is steadily positioning itself as more than an organisation ,but a movement.
At its core, Aranini Health is focused on improving women’s health and creating spaces where women can learn and connect. In Nigeria, many women still face limited access to health information and are discouraged from talking openly about their health. Programs like Aranini help fill that gap.What makes Aranini stand out is how it has grown, from a single event to a community with members in multiple countries. That growth shows it is more than just an event; it is part of a wider move towardbetter wellness for women.
To keep up with Aranini Health, follow @aranini.health on Instagram or join the Aranini community for updates on future events and programs.
PRESS RELEASE
Johannesburg, South Africa – Collective Club successfully launched its debut in-person event, Creatives Meet, bringing together over 100 creatives from across Johannesburg for an evening of relaxed networking, shared ideas, and meaningful connections.
Held in an intimate and welcoming setting of Pulse 99 Coffee, the event created a space where photographers, DJs, designers, writers, visual artists, and cultural practitioners could engage without pressure or competition. The focus was simple: build real relationships, encourage collaboration, and strengthen the creative community.
The evening featured music by talented DJs Kayo and Mensah, setting the tone for an atmosphere that was both vibrant and comfortable. Attendees connected organically through conversation, creative activities, and informal networking, resulting in new collaborations and partnerships.
Creatives Meet marked the official launch of Collective Club, a free creative community designed to address isolation within the industry by creating intentional spaces, both online and offline, for creatives to connect and grow together.
“This event showed us how much creatives are looking for genuine connection,” said founder Kelly Maredi. “We wanted to create a space where people could meet without pressure, share ideas freely, and feel supported. The response has been incredible.”
Following the success of the launch, Creatives Meet will continue as a monthly gathering, with the next edition taking place next month. Collective Club aims to expand its reach while maintaining the intimate and community-driven nature that defines its events.
Creatives interested in attending future gatherings and becoming part of the community are encouraged to sign up at:
https://tally.so/r/3xO5Jk
Updates, event announcements, and community features can also be found on Collective Club’s social media platforms.
IG: @collectiveclub.za
Far from frivolous spectacle, modern African beauty pageants have functioned as parallel modelling institutions — particularly in countries where editorial and fashion infrastructures remain limited. In many contexts, pageantry became the only formalized system through which models could access visibility, training, and international representation. This reliance, however, is both enabling and constraining. Pageantry has opened doors, producing globally visible figures and offering structured pathways where none previously existed. At the same time, its dominance has concentrated opportunity within a single annual figure, limiting the breadth and continuity required for a sustainable modelling ecosystem. Where there were no agencies, no fashion weeks, and no sustained investment in modelling as an industry, there was a crown, and with it, a yearly delegate to the global stage.
The Early Architecture of Representation
Beauty pageants within the continent began taking shape in the mid-1950s. In 1956, Norma Vorster was crowned in the first official Miss South Africa competition, created to send a national representative to the global Miss World stage. A year later, Nigeria launched its own pageant. Organized by the Daily Times newspaper in 1957, Miss Nigeria crowned Grace Atinuke Oyelude as its inaugural titleholder. Oyelude was a trained nurse and midwife who later became a hospital administrator, and entered the competition through a photograph submission — then standard practice. Her win marked the beginning of a national ritual of beauty as cultural display.
By 1958, South Africa’s Penny Coelen became the first representative from Africa to win a major international crown when she secured the Miss World title. Nigeria would later enter the Miss World competition in 1963, expanding its participation to global performance.
Though initially modeled on Western templates, these competitions rapidly absorbed local aesthetics, politics and cultural aspirations. They became hybrid spaces — part colonial inheritance, part national re-invention. In many ways, early pageantry functioned as gendered diplomacy: a soft, aesthetic mechanism through which nations negotiated visibility, modernity and belonging. What appears, at first glance, as simple spectacle was also infrastructure and one of the earliest organized systems through which African countries curated and exported an image of themselves to the world.
When the Crown Becomes the Only Runway
Looking back now, it feels curious how these pageants, initially imported, became improvisational spaces, and the default modelling institutions of their nations.
For decades, modelling infrastructure and documentation across much of the continent had remained thin, with no consistent casting agencies, few international placements, and limited editorial ecosystems. And so, pageantry stepped into that vacuum.
When Nigeria’s Agbani Darego won Miss World in 2001, becoming the first indigenous African woman to win Miss World, the moment felt seismic. Her victory changed global perceptions of African beauty and created tangible modelling opportunities beyond the pageant sphere.
Similarly, Ethiopian model Melkam Endale, who won Miss Ethiopia in 2010 and later Miss World Ethiopia in 2012, has spoken about how pageantry opened doors to international modelling opportunities. While not all contestants become career models, the system has, in these instances, served as a launchpad where few alternatives exist.
But what does it mean when the only structured pipeline to fashion begins with a beauty pageant?
Nigeria, South Africa, Kenya, for instance, have developed increasingly visible modelling infrastructures, with established agencies like Beth Model Africa, Few Models, Boss Models South Africa, alongside fashion platforms including Lagos Fashion Week, South African Fashion Week, and Nairobi Fashion Week that facilitate editorial exposure and sustained visibility beyond competition stages. Within these contexts, pageantry no longer functions as the sole gateway but exists as a parallel form of exposure.
By contrast, where agency representation remains sparse and editorial economies fragile, including parts of Uganda, Tanzania, Zambia, and smaller West and Central African markets, pageantry continues to function as a primary infrastructure for visibility. The result is a continental unevenness where pageantry exists simultaneously as supplement and substitute, and shapes how models enter global circuits depending less on talent than on national industry capacity. Without robust fashion ecosystems, pageantry remains the primary mechanism for producing African models from these regions. This centralization narrows the scope of modelling to a singular, annual spectacle instead of a diversified and multifaceted creative industry.
So where pageantry retains centrality, the implications are significant. African beauty queens now carry diplomatic weight by default. Participation in competitions such as Miss Universe and Miss World has become a strategic exercise in soft power. Titleholders promote tourism, cultural heritage, sustainable development, and national identity abroad. International victories are interpreted as validation — aesthetic, political, and cultural.
The economic structure of global pageantry reinforces this diplomatic dimension. At the international level, franchises like Miss Universe monetize intellectual property through licensing, broadcast rights, sponsorships, and branding extensions. National committees, meanwhile, operate through fragile balances of government funding and private partnerships. Participation in Miss Universe for instance, requires national directors to absorb franchise fees, production expenses, wardrobe, and international travel, costs typically stabilized through corporate sponsorship or informal state support. Where these financial networks are inconsistent, contestants may arrive with fewer resources for styling, media coaching, and sustained visibility, shaping which presentations of beauty appear globally polished and competitive. This funding structure can expose competitions to politicization and public scrutiny.
Also, some national organizations have responded by reframing their missions explicitly around social impact. Increasingly, titleholders champion anti-gender-based violence campaigns, girls’ education initiatives, and female entrepreneurship. The modern Miss is expected to embody both beauty and civic responsibility.
For all its visibility, pageantry has never been free of tension. It can reinforce rigid standards and the very system aimed to elevate can also narrow. Critics have argued that the format risks objectification, particularly when economic safeguards for contestants are weak. The 2024 controversy surrounding Chidimma Adetshina exposed another fault line. After facing xenophobic backlash and online harassment questioning her eligibility and heritage, Adetshina withdrew from Miss South Africa. The incident revealed how quickly celebration can turn into scrutiny and how national pride can morph into policing.
Even amid critique, pageants persist, not necessarily out of cultural attachment, but because in some countries they remain the only consistent modelling apparatus. Where there are no robust editorial circuits, no established casting agencies, and little institutional investment in diversified fashion sectors, pageantry fills the vacuum. One queen a year. One global attempt. One moment of amplified visibility.
African pageantry exists in paradox. It has constrained beauty within rigid frameworks while simultaneously providing rare visibility and mobility. It is easy to dismiss as spectacle, but in many countries it still operates as infrastructure and the only consistent system producing international faces. The crown validated Black beauty on a global stage — but only when that beauty aligned with digestible proportions, controlled poise, and a kind of translatable elegance. So even when pageants claimed to foreground culture, they often translated it into something externally palatable. Local identity passed through a filter already set elsewhere.
When pageantry becomes the dominant or only modelling pipeline, it narrows the imagination of what modelling can be. It concentrates resources around a single annual figure instead of building ecosystems that allow for true multiplicity. If modelling industries across African countries remain unevenly developed, the crown will continue to carry too much weight. It will continue to be both gateway and gatekeeper.
The real work, then, is not in abolishing the crown. It is in decentralizing it. Decentralization looks like sustained investment in local agencies, independent runway platforms, union and labour protections, editorial commissions, and fashion infrastructures that allow models to exist beyond the pageant cycle. It looks like careers built through continuity.
One crown cannot substitute for an entire ecosystem. Editorial, runway, and independent modelling industries must exist as parallel structures. Until these parallel structures are meaningfully supported, the crown will continue to stand in for an ecosystem it was never designed to replace, a singular symbol asked to carry the weight of an entire industry.
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In the heart of Los Angeles, where underground heritage meets the precision of modern luxury, Earthling has officially claimed its permanent position in the fashion landscape.
Founded by the visionary designer and artist Mama Earthling, the brand recently celebrated the grand opening of its Melrose Avenue flagship during NBA All-Star Weekend.
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This isn't just a seasonal pop-up; it is the establishment of a brand built for longevity, carving out a space that will define the culture for years to come.
While the garments are undeniable, the true connection people find with Earthling begins with the individuals behind it. Having had the pleasure of visiting their studio in LA some years ago, I witnessed firsthand the intentionality that defines the brand. The founders are exceptional individuals whose energy is truly contagious. You can tell immediately that they care deeply about every stitch, every texture, and every person who walks through their doors. That level of heart is rare in fashion, and it’s exactly why the brand feels so magnetic.
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My professional journey with the Earthling universe reached a peak behind the lens. In 2024, I had the opportunity to style the Michael Rainey Jr. cover for Pause Magazine, where I saw the brand’s definitive ability to disrupt the high-fashion landscape. The look was a high-water mark for textile innovation, featuring an elevated take on denim that utilized intricate lace overlays on pants paired with a matching quilted vest. Seeing those pieces move and interact confirmed what I already felt: Earthling can take rugged, traditional materials and transform them into something delicate, complex, and entirely new.
There is a specific reason Earthling is so heavily supported by musicians, artists, and elite talent. It stems from the founders' background in breakdancing history that infuses the brand with an introspective energy and a deep connection to movable fashion. When you wear Earthling, it doesn't just sit on the body; it flows. The infusion of fashion, music, and motion makes every outfit feel like a visual symphony. This focus on "clothing in flight" is why it resonates so deeply with those who live their lives on stages and courts; it is luxury that understands the rhythm of the human body. Individuality Over "Costume"
Within the brand’s DNA is a belief that clothing should never feel like a costume; it should be a seamless extension of the wearer’s individuality. Energy acts as the ultimate stylist, as a single piece is never set in stone the look changes entirely based on the person’s energy and how they choose to carry the silhouette. Because of the one-of-one nature of their work, putting the same look on two different people yields two completely different results. It is a movement centered on personal expression rather than just following trends.
Earthling separates itself from standard streetwear by leaning into the meticulous world of archival construction. This niche audience understands that the elevated price point reflects a commitment to quality that mass-production cannot replicate. Many pieces are one-of-one reconstructions, utilizing authentic vintage textiles that are reimagined and rebuilt into modern silhouettes. By prioritizing 100% vintage cotton over modern fast-fashion alternatives, the brand offers a weight and durability that defines true luxury. These timeless textures ensure the pieces feel both historic and futuristic.
The Melrose opening served as a meeting of the minds for the world’s most influential tastemakers, solidifying Earthling's status as a celebrity-fueled destination. The event drew music icons like 2 Chainz, Fabolous, Snoh Aalegra, and Hit-Boy, alongside elite athletes suchas Kevin Durant, Juju Watkins, Gilbert Arenas, and Matt Barnes. Visionary designers Salehe Bembury and Don C were also in attendance to celebrate the brand's milestone.
Earthling isn't just selling clothes; they are selling a curated legacy built on great energy and unmatched quality. By prioritizing the structural integrity of vintage materials and the artistry of reconstruction, Mama Earthling has created a brand that is luxury with a pulse. Whenever I find myself back in Los Angeles, stopping by the Melrose flagship is an absolute must it is a space that truly needs to be experienced in person to appreciate the depth of the craft.
Photos: SAGESIX
At AW26, Orange Culture, Buzigahill and Kenneth Ize brought conversations around ownership, lineage and joy to the forefront of the runway
Berlin Fashion Week AW26 unfolded as a study in contrast. On one side, the expected pillars of German and European fashion. On the other, an expanding international presence that continues to reshape the city’s rhythm. Beyond expanding representation, this season showed a definitive shift in influence, with African designers helping redefine the cultural direction and emotional tone of Berlin’s runway.
This season’s calendar brought together labels such as GmbH, Richert Beil, William Fan and Marc Cain alongside a new generation of designers navigating craft, politics and identity through contemporary silhouettes. With the presentations, Berlin continues to position itself as a platform for independent voices, sustainability-led practices and cross-cultural exchange, though the durability of that positioning remains an open question.
Within that framework, three Black-founded brands carried particular clarity of vision. Orange Culture by Adebayo Oke-Lawal, Buzigahill by Bobby Kolade and Kenneth Ize were selected as part of the Berlin Contemporary AW26 cohort, a prize initiative supporting emerging and independent labels through production funding and institutional visibility.
At BFW AW26, their presentations did not offer a singular narrative. Instead, they revealed different tensions shaping contemporary African fashion. Orange Culture refined a deeply emotional design language rooted in gender fluidity and memory. Buzigahill sustained its critique of secondhand clothing economies through reconstruction and material interrogation. Kenneth Ize continued his dialogue between heritage textile and contemporary tailoring, emphasizing refinement while raising questions of progression.
Together, their presentations were refreshing and it showed Berlin’s gradual shift toward a more globally attentive fashion week, where conversations around memory, ownership, sustainability and cultural lineage occupy central space on the runway and influence its direction as much as its diversity.
Kenneth Ize
For Autumn/Winter 2026, Nigerian designer Kenneth Ize titled his collection JOY. The word feels simple at first. On the runway, it unfolds as something layered with togetherness, vulnerability, celebration and softness. With collaborators including stylist KK Obi, Ize's presentation felt communal, almost like being invited into an emotional interior of the brand.
As expected, the tailoring was lean and elegant, then subtly undone. Some pieces studied contrast, presenting one mood at the front and another at the back. The tension between restraint and release was most visible in the trench coats and sculptural hats that framed the collection. Traditional aso oke moved through the garments, allowing heritage textiles to meet materials associated with everyday wear, creating silhouettes that felt grounded and recognizably Ize. Where the collection felt strongest was in its sincerity. There was no pressure to over-perform the concept. There was also something childlike in the presentation. Playful makeup. Lightness in the pacing. The collection approached joy as an intrinsic emotion - raw, communal, and expressed through craft and form.
Buzigahill
At Berlin Fashion Week, Kampala-based label Buzigahill, by Bobby Kolade, unveiled its twelfth edition of “RETURN TO SENDER,” an ongoing project confronting the afterlife of clothing. Both the brand and the collection respond directly to the influx of secondhand garments that enter Uganda, reshaping local industry and consumption in negative ways.
For their 12th edition, the label shifted toward memory. Kolade looked to photographs from the 1960s and 1970s in East Africa, especially images of his grandparents and their peers. Their posture. Their tailoring. For many East African millennials, those photographs are especially nostalgic, a longing for a moment that feels grounded and self-possessed. The collection reads as reclamation, asking who owns style, history and narrative, and how those threads can be rewoven into contemporary fashion.
The opening look set the tone of the collection. A distressed leather biker jacket, treated over 28 hours with sandpaper, red soil, paint and varnish paired with a reversed suit jacket, deconstructed and reassembled with raw seams exposed on the exterior, and “boda boda” chinos which replaced traditional waistbands with one made from track offcuts.
Conceptually, Buzigahill was one of the most urgent voices on the Berlin schedule. The critique is clear and embodied. Where the presentation struggled was in collective cohesion. The garments read as self-contained experiments instead of components of a larger visual narrative. Although, fringing and surface manipulation appeared throughout, it functioned more as recurring techniques. Nonetheless, the clothes felt innovative and sharply contemporary, and with their BFW showing, Buzigahill continues to operate as a demand, a critique and a design method, stitched directly into their seams.
Orange Culture
“Backyards of Memory is a return not just to a place, but to a feeling,” Oke-Lawal writes.
For Autumn/Winter 2026, the Lagos-based label unveiled Backyards of Memory, a collection shaped by remembrance. Self-taught designer and founder Adebayo Oke-Lawal returns for his second season at Berlin Fashion Week, still bold, still saturated in colour and still rooted in texture. The collection continues a conversation he began at Lagos Fashion Week in November, a tribute to his mother. Now at BFW AW26, memory becomes landscape and that sentiment translates directly into the clothes, with flowing fabrics, prints, and colour that feels fearless and unreserved.
Colour remained the collection’s most immediate strength. Custom textile, developed in collaboration with artist Sisiano Paolo, ran through the collection. Saturation and print layering created visual warmth, while flowing cuts sustained Orange Culture’s rejection of rigid tailoring conventions. Handwoven techniques were also seen across the collection, and handcrafted, fringed-edge bags created with Lagos brand Kisara added texture and tactility, tying the looks together.
From the print accents to sequin skirts and macramé dresses, the collection was unmistakably Orange Culture, but the collection’s visual language occasionally settled into predictability for the brand. Backyards of Memory succeeded as atmosphere and storytelling, while leaving open the question of how Orange Culture might translate that emotional depth into sharper structural evolution.
Across the three presentations, what emerged was a set of tensions that felt reflective of contemporary African fashion itself. Kenneth Ize showed the strength and limits of refinement, Buzigahill exposed the difficulty of translating conceptual urgency into cohesive runway storytelling, and Orange Culture affirmed the emotional resonance of a design language now facing the pressure of evolution.
Berlin Fashion Week has created space for practice, where designers could be seen within growth, experimentation and unresolved ideas instead of symbolic representation. The shift feels tangible but unfinished, leaving Berlin’s future fashion week identity dependent on whether this visibility develops into sustained structural support and not just seasonal emphasis. Together, Kenneth Ize, Orange culture and Buzigahill’s presence shows a fashion week intent on building a platform where cultural specificity and global dialogue stand on equal footing. With that momentum, our eyes are already set on July and the SS27 presentations to come.
The first half of the Super Bowl game ground to a screeching halt and scores of workers appeared on the capacious pitch, working with dizzying speed to transform Levi's Stadium, Santa Clara to a set befitting Bad Bunny, this year’s Super Bowl Half Time Show headliner, and who by some metrics is the biggest musician in the world. Nervous excitement cascaded through the stadium and you could spot members of the crowd making light conversation and holding their smartphones up in anticipation of what would follow. The Seattle Seahawks’ defense had smothered the New England Patriots, leaving a staggering nine-point deficit but the question thrumming within everyone’s mind was: Would Bad Bunny, whose selection as this year’s halftime headliner had polarized America, offer a splashy critique of America and the Trump administration’s hawkish stance on immigration, which has disproportionately affected Latin Americans?
It was Bad Bunny’s first performance in the US in over a year. Last year, he skipped America during his world tour, citing concerns that ICE may target some of his fans. Instead, he ran a residency in his native Puerto Rico for three months, attracting a flush of tourist revenue to the Caribbean island and once again eschewing US centrism at a time when Trump has made no small show of asserting US hegemony over the Western Hemisphere, particularly in the Americas. Bad Bunny sings almost entirely in Spanish and its derivative dialects and has been openly critical of ICE. As such, many on the American right bitterly resisted his appointment to headline the Super Bowl, viewed as one of the few holdouts of a monoculture in a period when America, and much of the world, is riven by partisan politics and the atomization of culture precipitated by social media. Trump claimed to have never heard of him. “I don't know who he is, I don't know why they're doing it. It's crazy. I think it's absolutely ridiculous.” The manosphere influencer Jake Paul called him “a fake American citizen,” and Turning Point USA, founded by the late Conservative activist Charlie Kirk, organized an alternative Super Bowl halftime show in protest.
During Bad Bunny's Album of the Year acceptance speech at the Grammys, roughly two weeks ago, he trotted out an affecting message of love. “The only thing that's more powerful than hate is love,” he said. Albeit not without a dash of political commentary: “Before I say thanks to God, I’m going to say ICE out.” His 13-minute Super Bowl performance however circumvented explicit criticism of the US, he focused on delivering what can only be described as a celebration of Latino heritage packed with subtle political allusions and symbolism. Wearing a boxy white shirt and matching white pants, he emerged from a sugarcane farm—dappled with exultant farm workers wearing pavas, the classic straw hat worn by Puerto Rican farmers—performing his hit song Titi Me Pregundo. This scene recalled the thorny history of the Caribbean Islands and sugarcane plantations. Starting in the 17th century, colonial powers forced indigenous people, slaves, and indentured laborers to toil on these plantations which supplied up to 90 percent of the sugar consumed in Europe and America.
Later in the show, Bad Bunny and the jibaros (farmers) from earlier climbed electric poles hoisting exploding power lines, gesturing at Puerto Rico’s ongoing electricity crisis. All these unfolded against the performance of El Apagón, a protest song speaking to the island’s infrastructural failures in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, as well as the island’s history of government corruption and the roving wave of gentrification rapidly reshaping socio-political dynamics in Puerto Rico. The peak political moment of the performance arrived shortly. With the imperious grooves of El Apagón still rocking the stadium, Bad Bunny held up a red, white, and light blue flag: the flag associated with the Puerto Rican independence movement. Until 1952, displaying this flag publicly in Puerto Rico, still a US colony, was considered a criminal offense.
Following this rare moment of explicit political symbology, the show once again dialed back to its measured register as it approached a close. Bad Bunny brought what had been one of the most memorable Super Bowl performances to a resounding close with Café Con Ron, during which he delivered a subtly radical statement: “God bless America.” Initially reading as a platitude or thinly veiled attempt to compensate for having waved the Puerto Rican independence flag, he proceeded to elaborate on his definition of America by listing every Latin American country, roughly from south to north, starting from Mexico, and ending with Canada, the USA, and Puerto Rico.
Since the performance, some journalists and commentators seem to have heaved sighs of relief at the show’s putative dearth of political statements such as People Magazine’s Daniela Avila and Meredith Kile who described the show as a “fun-filled dance party.” But anyone who truly watched the show with discernment knows how simplistic this assessment is. We need only to look at the show’s concluding moments to see without varnish Bad Bunny’s subtle message of resistance. His final act was holding up to the camera a ball inscribed with the message “Together we are America.” As he sauntered off the stage, the giant screen behind him reprised a portion of his Grammys speech: “The only thing stronger than hate is love.” In an era when strongman figures are increasingly dispensing with basic human rights, treating the rule of law and the constitution as suggestions as opposed to binding rules, and spreading a message of division and hate, perhaps the most radical statement one can make is calling for unity and love.
New York Fashion Week has always been defined by the "who’s who" of fashion, culture, and influence, but this season, the pulse of the city felt distinctly different. New York is one of those places where, if you know, you know. There was a palpable air of nostalgia drifting through the concrete canyons this February, but it wasn't a simple longing for the past; it was a deliberate reclamation of identity. In a "microwave society" where trends flash and fade in an instant, the brands that stood out were those prioritizing longevity over virality. These houses are leaning into their original fan bases, cultivating their stories on their own terms, and proving that clarity of voice is the only true currency for long-term relevance.
The week began with an intellectual punch as Catherine Holstein unveiled her Khaite collection at the Park Avenue Armory. Under a monumental 60-foot LED installation, the show offered a masterclass in "Nocturnal Tailoring". Elongated tuxedos, leather gloves, and sharp, soulful silhouettes evoked a 70s power dressing vibe that felt both cinematic and quintessentially New Yorker. It set a high bar for the days to follow, where the industry’s established giants Michael Kors, Coach, and Calvin Klein provided the structural backbone of the week, maintaining the city's reputation for polished, global luxury.
However, the season's true emotional gravity came from the return of Public School. After a seven-year hiatus, the brand re-emerged on February 11th with a collection titled "Everything Is Now". While they have always shared a certain DNA with heritage houses like Calvin Klein in their mastery of denim, layering, and construction, this reintroduction felt edgier and more vital. By blending "downtown grit" with a new, mature tailoring style think indigo leather anoraks and subversive office wear Public School reminded us how to tell a New York story that feels both high-end and upliftingly street-level.
AWGE by A$AP Rocky staged a downtown "homecoming" on February 13th that felt effortlessly fly and unapologetically Harlem. As a Harlem native myself, I recognized that specific energy: it’s the confidence to take risks others simply couldn’t pull off. The presentation "broke the fourth wall" by integrating the typically hidden backstage process directly into the show. But the true standout was Rocky’s personal evolution. He didn’t just make "cool" clothing; he made fatherhood aspirational, blending New York grit with high- function "dadhood". It felt intentional a designer balancing strength with a vulnerable swagger that screams "I’m that dude" or "I’m that girl" without having to say a single word. The clothing says it all for you.
On February 14th, Trapstar delivered a cultural masterclass with the revival of their premium "Redline" range. Known for an incredible fusion of streetwear and luxury, the collection paired high-quality hoodies with leather tailored jackets that felt like a uniform for those moving with purpose. The casting was equally intentional; every model possessed a distinct identity while sharing an underlying energy of pure "swag." Adding to the motion, Trapstar used the runway to physically premiere unseen sneaker colorways that fans had been demanding. This move signaled a massive shift for the culture, transitioning from viral hype to a tangible, high-craft physical presence.
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Perhaps no show felt more like a global embrace than Kim Shui, who celebrated a decade of defiance aboard the Eternity Yacht on February 15th. Staged against a shifting skyline, the collection was a meditation on Qi the animating current of transformation. The runway featured a cast that was strikingly diverse in both ethnicity and size, serving as a vibrant homage to the world at large. This wasn't diversity for the sake of a trend; it was a dedicated mission to make Intentional, high-fashion clothing for everyone.
Even away from the runways, the intentionality continued. Colm Dillane of KidSuper opted for an unexpected, private book launch at Rizzoli Bookstore on February 16th. Discussing his visual autobiography, The Misadventures of KidSuper, Dillane stayed true to his brand’s roots of storytelling and wearable art. It was an intimate "if you know, you know" moment, reinforcing his journey from an NYU dorm to a global creative force.The weekend reached its social peak through events that felt like genuine cultural gatherings.
Flaunt & Sandro took over The Ned NoMad on February 15th for a collection launch that felt effortlessly curated with a DJ set by FCUKERS. Simultaneously, the NYFW After Dark event hosted by Deeds Magazine on Mulberry St. reflected the Deeds ethos, telling our story on our own terms, with content and experiences that are extremely intentional.
As the week wound down, the message was clear. In an era of fleeting interest, the brands that win are the ones that refuse to chase the crowd. By focusing on the niche, the innovative, and the deeply personal, these designers are building something that lasts. They remind us that when you are clear on who your voice is, you don’t just have a customer base you have a legacy
In celebration of Black History Month, the Deeds Writing Program of 2025 came together to present the top 100 Afrobeats songs of all time; however, there’s a catch. Each selection also reflects a deep personal attachment to the song—whether through a formed memory, a defining moment in time, or the start of a new movement.
For years, Afrobeats has opened doors for Africans like never before. Along those creative communities include Deeds Magazine that fronts as a power hold for the genre and so many more sub-cultures across the African continent. We can confidently attribute the sound as a vessel for emerging careers and talents to take shape and it was only, therefore, right to give this movement its flowers.
1. Top of the Morning by Black Sheriff
“This track is one hell of a piece. It held me down months ago, and Black absolutely delivered. The message cuts deep: if you don’t get your sh*t together, you stay stuck, because no one is coming to save you. People claim they understand your struggle, but it’s usually just talk. He’s been on gas since his 2021 breakthrough, truly Ghana’s finest gem." - Shankara
2. Again by Wande coal
“This song is the perfect love song from our OG Wande Coal. Anytime it plays, it brings out the lover girl or boy in anyone. You might not be in love and might not even know what love feels like, but this song will make you feel it anyway.” - Ruqayyah
3. Stay by Rocky Maye
“The lyrics describe a relationship where the protagonist is trying to convince a love interest of his sincerity. He admits to being captivated by her ("You dey make I wonder") and promises commitment, mentioning wanting to take her on a "baecation" and give her the attention she deserves. The perfect “Lover boy” Anthem!” - Shankara
4. Escaladizy by Mavo and wave$tar
“Escaladizzy isn’t about deep lyrics or making logical sense and it doesn’t need to be. It is strictly a vibe. This is the track you play to snap out of a heavy mood and get right back into the groove. It’s a sonic palate cleanser; a total head-bopper designed to turn off your brain and turn up the energy. Sometimes, you don’t need a message, you just need a beat. - Shankara
5. Dorobucci by Mavins
“Possibly one of the greatest Afrobeats songs of all time. It’s the perfect song to get ready to or to transport you back to the simplicity of 2014 and everyone has an opinion on whose verse goes the hardest (personally I will always fight for Tiwa Savage).” - Mayowa
6. Leg Over by Mr Eazi and Major Lazer
“You know that song that suddenly pops out and becomes a hit? Leg Over was that song. Leg Over by Mr Eazi and Major Lazer dropped late 2016 and completely dominated the industry in 2017. It was one of those 2017 OG songs. 2017 had a lot of songs we’ll be seeing below.” - Ruqayyah
7. Mad over you by Runtown
“Afrobeats songs of all time and Mad Over You isn’t there? That would be a crime , punishable by Afrobeats fans. Mad Over You was also one of the 2017 hits, played everywhere. Mad over you, everywhere you go “Ghana girl say she wan marry me ooo.” That song will forever be iconic.”- Ruqayyah
8. Did You See by J Hus
“Ask anyone who was outside in 2017 and they will tell you that ‘Did You See’ was truly everywhere. This was, and still is, a song which defines summer. This is the song you hear coming out of cars driving past, the song coming out of the beaten up speaker at the 5-a-side pitch, the song gassing up crowds in nightclubs. Whatever J Hus laced into this tune still injects energy into everyone who hears it.” - Adam Brocklesby
9. City Boys by Burna Boy
“When Burna Boy popped out with DJ AG at King’s Cross, I happened to be cycling home from work and joined the masses to watch the Nigerian megastar at one of his smallest concerts ever. He finished the set with City Boys, fitting for a show on the streets of the British capital. The crowd were so excited you could barely hear his voice nor barely move to dance, but the vibes were so high in the July heat that commuters and fans alike were celebrating to this recent Afrobeats classic” - Adam Brocklesby
10. Energy (Stay Far Away) by Skepta and Wizkid
“There is a particular part of the chorus to this song, Wizkid’s eponymous line “Bad energy stays far away, make it stay far away” which I can hear shouted by crowds of people. It's a collective prayer in the form of Afrobeats and when that DJ inevitably cuts the track just for that line, it never fails to turn a room of strangers into a choir.” - Adam Brocklesby
11. Essence by Tems & Wizkid
“This might as well be crowned one of the best collaborations Afrobeats has produced. The sync between Tems & Wizkid is one to write about. When the word 'Alignment' is said, Essence comes to my mind. It's just that song that fits.’"- Adedoyin Adeoye
12. Olunfunmi by Styl Plus
“This song has a special hold on me. Every time it comes on, I pause whatever I’m doing just to sing along. It’s old, yes, but it still sounds fresh and emotional, like it never aged. Leaving it off this list would honestly feel like a crime. It’s one of those classics that refuses to be forgotten." - Adedoyin Adeoye
13. Jealous by Fireboy DML
“Old release but from the intro to the vocals to the flow? Fireboy really did something with this sound. From the intro to the vocals and that smooth flow, everything feels intentional. This song is proof that music can still slap." - Adedoyin Adeoye
14. Gobe by Davido
“The 'hand on head' Davido era! That era was 100% Davido. I love this song, especially with the title literally meaning 'trouble.' It was messy, energetic, and peak O.B.O , a total 2013 masterpiece. ” - Ruqayyah
15. IF by Davido
“The song that almost every guy was singing to woo, and suddenly everyone believed they had 30 billion in their account to give their woman. Davido is the ultimate lover boy who made 'financial romance' sound so smooth.” - Ruqayyah
16. Holla your boy by Wizkid
“Anyone that doesn’t know this song is not a true fan. It was giving 'Justin Bieber in Nigeria!' The high school setting, the bicycle, and the baseball cap were iconic. It made Wizkid every girl’s crush and was the moment he became the Starboy we know today.” - Ruqayyah
17. Adaobi by Mavins
“Mavins has been giving us iconic hits from day one, and Adaobi is a prime example. Anytime the Mavins come together as a group, you know it’s another big banger. They gave us that legendary call-and-response: 'Ada fine gan (ah fine na ni) Abi be ko o (A be ba bi) 'it's impossible not to join in!” - Ruqayyah
18. Azonto by Fuse ODG
“The dance song of the decade! Azonto was everywhere when it was released. If you don’t know Azonto, there’s a high possibility you aren’t African or you live under a rock. Honestly, not knowing Azonto deserves jail time in an Afrobeats detention center!” - Ruqayyah
19. Crazy Tings by Tems
“Crazy Tings opens If Orange Was A Place with confidence and emotional honesty. It captured a strange global moment, the uncertainty of the pandemic, the fear of tomorrow, and the fragile hope of trying again. Tems gave language to confusion without panic. It wasn’t escapism; it was acceptance. This song will always remind me of learning to move gently through an unpredictable world.” - Gene Sibeko
20. Ojuelegba by Wizkid
“Although I was in my final year of high school when Ojuelegba was released, it truly soundtracked my first year out of school in 2015. I was living away from home for the first time, navigating Cape Town as a young African woman discovering independence. The song mirrored that moment perfectly feeling exposed, hopeful, and strangely at home while learning how big and generous the continent could be.” - Gene Sibeko
21. So Mi So by Wande Coal
“So Mi So is pure vacation energy. This is the song that plays on girls’ trips, somewhere between sunkissed skin and late afternoons that turn into nights. It carries joy without responsibility. Dance now, worry later. Every time I hear it, I picture sparkly blue water in Durban or Zanzibar, where memories were made loudly, freely, and without an exit plan.” - Gene Sibeko
22. Sungba (Remix) by Asake ft. Burna Boy
“This song takes me straight back to my first trip across the continent — Ethiopia. A country untouched by colonisation, proud and self-defined. I didn’t understand the lyrics, but I understood the feeling completely. Confidence. Movement. Joy. By by Sungba played as I absorbed African excellence in real time, feeling rich in culture and spirit truly ‘Mr Money with the vibe." - Gene Sibeko
23. Maradona by Niniola
“Maradona is the ultimate post-heartbreak reality check. It’s playful but pointed — a reminder that men can play you like football if you let them. This song helped me laugh through disappointment and reclaim my power. It’s about truth, wisdom, and learning not to fall too easily again. Healing doesn’t always have to sound sad; sometimes it sounds like dancing your way back to yourself.” - Gene Sibeko
24. Kiss your hand by R2Bees ft Wande Coal
“Kiss your hand is a song that makes you think of your childhood because of the nostalgia but also about your future romance. Every time I hear it, I’m transported back to my childhood when I didn’t even understand the lyrics. Now as an adult, the undying romance of just wanting to kiss someone’s hand is so aspirational in this day and age.” - Mayowa
25. Ye by Burna Boy
“This song takes me back to being in secondary school and singing it with my friends at break and lunch. I remember that it was absolutely everywhere for the rest of that year and even inspired the iconic meme/song, ‘my ye is different to your ye." - Mayowa
26. Joha by Asake
“When Joha starts playing in the club everyone knows exactly what to do… even those of us that don’t know how to dance or speak French. Asake’s 2022 run was iconic and inspirational; just banger after banger”. - Mayowa
27. Omo Ope by Asake
"I can shout / Mo tun le pariwo’ may be one of the most poetic lines that I’ve heard in a song in a long time. Omo Ope is the perfect song to remind you who you are while you’re getting ready to go out and have a good time. It’s an immediate confidence booster while you’re trying to decide if your outfit looks cool or your makeup is blended enough.” - Mayowa
28. Tumo weto by Mavo
"Tumo Weto" is a luxury anthem twisting the phrase "Two Moët." Lyrically, it highlights the social reality that "only rich people get way." Inspired by phonetic experimentation, Mavo created the track to transform a simple club order into a hypnotic mantra, expanding his signature "Bizzylingua" slang." - Shankara
29. Eminado (Tiwa Savage feat Don Jazzy)
"My mom would play this song on repeat every morning before work, when she would do her morning workout. It famously became known as “her song” and every time we played it, we knew it was Mommy’s song. Tiwa Savage was a must-play in my household. This song was quite literally etched into my family’s brains in 2013– every ad-lib, verse, harmony line." - Emem-Esther Ikpot
30. Imagine That (Styl-Plus)
"My sister traveled to Nigeria. Upon her return, she came back with several iconic Styl-Plus DVDs that we played 100% into the ground. As silly and weird as my siblings and I were, we even had each interview prelude with T-Jazz and Joey memorized. IMAGINE THAT… And Imagine That remix at the time was the coolest video to ever exist, and although my family is ibibio, we knew all the Yoruba words. Or at least tried to. This was 2005." - Emem-Esther Ikpot
31. Oyi (remix) (Flavor)
"This was one of my dad’s favorite songs. It’s funny because at the time, this song seemed “new”, relative to his Lagbaja, Fela, and Sunny Ade preferences. Growing up, my parents would speak Ibibio from time to time, but they also spoke a lot of Yoruba. Every time this song played, my dad would emphatically clap, dance, and vibe. He knew all the Yoruba and would explain the meaning to us. This was 2012, and Flavour was rocking the world." - Emem-Esther Ikpot
32. Science Student (Olamide)
"My cousins can DANCE. Same as my siblings, with the exception of myself (I do really try to activate that gene). The way my cousins and siblings would do the Shaku Shaku was enough to shake an entire room, especially when Science Student by Olamide came on. Every family graduation party, when this song came on, it was game over. Everyone would dance like crazy. These were some of the best moments. This was 2018." - Emem-Esther Ikpot
33. KU LO SA (Oxlade)
"This song BELONGED to my sister Elsie, who is easily one of the best dancers I know. She memorized the dance to KU LO SA like it was her full-time job and hit it every single time. There’s a sort of conviction that this dance requires that she always has. Every time this song plays I’m like WHERE IS ELSIE?! Always eats. This was 2022." - Emem-Esther Ikpot
34. Over by r2bees
“Over" is the ultimate heartbreak banger. R2Bees pair a bitter story of a lover leaving her man for a man with more money. With an infectious Killbeatz rhythm, It captures the classic Ghanaian spirit: mixing sad lyrics with a sweet melody, so you end up dancing through the rejection rather than crying about it.” - Shankara
35. Coming Back For You - Fireboy DML
“Chadwick Boseman’s passing heavily influenced the plot of Black Panther 2. When Fireboy sang ‘I know that I’ma see you one day’ it felt like a message right to Chadwick. Forever in our hearts.” - Wale Ajala
36. Energy - Wizkid
“One of Wizkid’s slickest flows, once more P.Prime proves he’s a generational producer. Go to 2:02 if you don’t believe me.” - Wale Ajala
37. Wengeze - Eazzy
“The energy and sexiness this song holds alone is why it is one the best afrobeat songs of all time.” - Elisha Kiala
38. Chingnem - Sardokie, Bisa Kdei
“Sardokie and Bisa Kdei chemistry is so magnetic. The production is so smooth, and once the synths kick in you just want to start the song again!” - Elisha Kiala
39. Chop My Money Remix - P- Square, Akon, Rudeboy, May D, Mr. P
“This song instantly takes me back to my childhood. Hall parties, spraying money. It's one of those cases where the remix superseded the original, which is what remixes are supposed to do.” - Elisha Kiala
40. Ukwu Nwata - Flavour
“I got introduced to this song by one of my best friends. I wasn’t a fan of flavour in the past but this song turned me into one. The romance this song holds alone, makes me want to take a long walk during summer. The Igbo language is magnetic and the background vocals are such a great touch.” - Elisha Kiala
41. Ayi- Cross Wadle
“‘Too much’ and everyone is immediately on the dance floor. This is how you know it's a banger.” - Elisha Kiala
42. Calm Down - Rema
“Nothing about this song was calm. From the intro to the records it broke. And before anyone knew, the remix with Selena Gomez hit No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and spent over a year on the chart. If Calm down has 1billion, I’m certain enough that I contributed to half of it. The song went on to become the first Afrobeats record to hit a billion on-demand streams (as it should) and reoriented how global pop saw Nigerian music’s reach.” - Dubem Collins
43. Peru - Fireboy DML
“I remember the first time Peru played on a friend’s playlist and how instantly carefree I felt. I could sing the whole song after the first 3 listens, and the chorus “Peru, para” stuck with me for days. The remix with Ed Sheeran did not disappoint at all, and with it came a new wave of attention.” - Dubem Collins
44. Soco - Wizkid, Ceeza Milli, Spotless & Terri
“Soco was everywhere in 2018, the streets, clubs, bars, everywhere, even churches were not spared. The fact that the music was with artists that not a lot of people knew in the country at the moment, also added a certain appeal to it. I’m not so much of a dancer, but every time the song came on, I was forced to move my body. Afterall, proper gbedu no need permission to enter your body.” - Dubem Collins
45. Pana - Tekno
“Tekno knows his way around bangers. Pana had its hooks deep down the country when it dropped. There was no escaping it, and I don’t think anyone wanted to. It was played at weddings, clubs, roadside speakers, everywhere. I played the “hell” out of this song myself and even tried to breakdance as Tekno would. What a time!” - Dubem Collins
46. African Queen - 2baba
“There can't be a Top 100 Afrobeats list without this gem of a music. 2Baba (TuFace at the time) created what became a countrywide sensation at the time, and it also became the foundation stone for Afrobeats’ global journey. I was very young when this song came out, but to this day, I can sing everything word for word. It played at weddings, on the radio, and in films; you could not escape it either.” - Dubem Collins
47. Oliver Twist - D’banj
“Many would say this is the progenitor of Afrobeats going global, and I would not bother to argue. When Oliver Twist dropped in 2011, it broke new ground for Nigerian pop by charting on the UK Singles Chart, a feat few Afrobeats artists had achieved at the time. The video even had the musical genius, “Kanye,” in it. There can’t be a Top 100 Afrobeats song without this as well.” - Dubem Collins
48. Cash App - Bella Shmurda, Zlatan, Lincoln
“When this dropped, I didn’t really vibe to the lyrics, but like I said earlier, proper gbedu no need permission to enter your body. And before you know, my voice became the loudest whenever it came on. This song became the track that cemented Bella Shmurda’s arrival in the mainstream Afrobeats conversation.” - Dubem Collins
49. Fem - Davido
“Talk about timing. Fem dropped at the time the Nigerian youths were standing up and protesting against police brutality in the country. It became the unanimous protest anthem and was chanted at every protest ground across the country. 2020 is a year that no Nigerian youth will forget in a long time, and with it, FEM as well.” - Dubem Collins
50. Away - Oxlade
“I loved Oxlade even before this dropped, but this was the breakthrough single that transformed his career. The song even had figures like Drake share the track online, spotlighting Oxlade internationally and proving Afrobeats could resonate emotionally and commercially across borders.” - Dubem Collins
51. Enemies - Durella
“Enemies may not have global chart data, but in Nigerian pop culture, it became a catchphrase as much as a song title. It reflected a time when Afrobeats intersected with street rap and lifestyle bravado, and the idea of “enemies” in the lyrics became shorthand for the coming-up struggles many listeners felt. I listened to this song recently, and I couldn’t stop screaming, “Enemies, let me live my life!” Not that I have any enemies, but yeah, the song does that to you when it comes on.” - Dubem Collins
52. Baba Nla - Wizkid
“You know what it’s like to leave your record label with nothing and drop this as your first single as an independent artist? Talk about making a statement! Yeah, Wizkid has always been HIM. And whenever this song comes on, I puff up my shoulder and become as cocky as my goat, because why not? I’m ‘big daddy’ too” - Dubem Collins
53. Hot Body by Ayra Starr
“Hot Body is my personal hype song. Whether I’m getting ready for the gym or a night out, it instantly puts me in the right mindset. It’s a joyful reminder to invest in yourself. Mind, body, and soul. Because when you feel good, you show up differently, and good things follow. Confidence, discipline, and self-love wrapped into one addictive track.” - Gene Sibeko
54. Obianuju by Duncan Mighty
“Junior secondary school days, nothing extraordinary about the moment itself. Just another afternoon with the radio on, and then those opening notes cut through. Duncan's voice carried that Port Harcourt soul into my world for the first time. Sometimes the most significant songs don't announce themselves with fanfare, they just quietly become part of your soundtrack, marking time in the most ordinary, unforgettable way.” - Femi Bakinson
55. Ijoya by Weird MC
“The Ijoya era was absolutely insane. There wasn't a single party you could attend where the DJ wouldn't spin this track. Weird MC owned every dance floor, every gathering. Her voice became the anthem of that season, unavoidable and electric. Everyone knew every word, everyone moved when it dropped. That's when you knew a song had truly taken over. It was everywhere, inescapable, essential.” - Femi Bakinson
56. Gongo Aso by 9ice
“This was the ultimate party favorite, the song that united generations. Everywhere you went, Gongo Aso was playing. Old and young, men and women, everyone sang along with the same passion. It didn't matter who you were; when those beats hit, you were part of something bigger. A rare song that belonged to everybody, transcending age and gender with pure, undeniable energy.” - Femi Bakinson
57. Nwa Baby (Ashawo Remix) by Flavour
“Another party staple that demanded participation. As kids, we knew the lyrics were vulgar, but we didn't care one bit. We'd sing along shamelessly, moving to those irresistible beats. There was something liberating about it, that collective rebellion disguised as dancing. Flavour had us all under a spell, and we surrendered willingly, lyrics and all, lost in the rhythm.” - Femi Bakinson
58. Yahooze by Olu Maintain
“This song's arrival was instant domination. The moment it dropped, dance floors belonged to Yahooze. Everyone learned the choreography, those signature moves that made you feel like you were part of something massive. You couldn't just listen, you had to participate, to move exactly right.” - Femi Bakinson
59. Shayo by Bigiano
“Pure club energy distilled into one track. Shayo captured that beautiful, reckless feeling of living completely in the moment. No worries about tomorrow, no dwelling on yesterday, just now, just this beat, just this freedom. It was the soundtrack to carefree nights, the song that reminded us that sometimes the best thing you can do is simply let go and exist fully in the present.” - Femi Bakinson
60. Raise the roof by Jazzman Olofin x Adewale Ayuba
“A brilliant fusion of Afrobeats and Fuji Music that shouldn't have worked but absolutely did. This was pure feel-good energy, a song that belonged to everyone regardless of age or background. The collaboration brought two worlds together seamlessly, creating something that made you smile before you even realized why. It proved that when great artists respect each other's craft, magic happens. A unifying anthem in every sense.” - Femi Bakinson
61. Bibanke by Asa
“I first heard this during a quiet evening, and it stopped me cold. Asa's voice carried the weight that most artists spend their careers trying to find. Bibanke was poetry, social commentary wrapped in melody. The guitar work, her delivery, and the lyrics.” - Femi Bakinson
62. Kelekele love by Tiwa Savage
“This was my introduction to the queen herself. Kele Kele Love absolutely dominated the airwaves, you couldn't escape it, and nobody wanted to. Tiwa's voice, that infectious melody, the way she owned every note with confidence and grace. This was the moment we all realized Nigerian music had found another superstar, someone who would define an era. The reign had begun.” - Femi Bakinson
63. 5 and 6 by Naeto C
“ That hook was absolutely catchy, lodging itself in your brain and refusing to leave. Naeto C had this knack for creating memorable choruses that everyone could sing along to effortlessly. The song had swagger, confidence, and that polished production he was known for. "5 and 6" became part of our everyday vocabulary, another phrase Naeto gifted to the culture.” - Femi Bakinson
64. Street Credibility by 9ice x 2Baba
“Another inescapable anthem from 9ice. Street Credibility was everywhere, blasting from cars, shops, parties, phone speakers. He had this uncanny ability to create songs that just infiltrated every corner of daily life. You'd hear it multiple times a day without ever getting tired of it. 9ice understood the streets, and the streets loved him back.” - Femi Bakinson
65. Portharcout son by Duncan Mighty
“Port Harcourt's first son had to make a proper introduction, and he did it spectacularly. This song flooded the airwaves with that distinctive Port Harcourt sound we'd come to love. Duncan Mighty was carrying an entire city on his shoulders, and he wore that responsibility with pride.” - Femi Bakinson
66. Mr. Lecturer by Eedris Abdulkareem
“I absolutely loved this song. Eedris Abdulkareem truly did his thing. The storytelling was raw and real.” - Femi Bakinson
67. Ole by Sound Sultan
“Sound Sultan called out thieves with this bold, unapologetic anthem. "Ole" means thief in Yoruba, naming names, pointing fingers, speaking truth to power. The song was controversial, direct, and necessary. Everyone sang along because we all knew the thieves he was talking about.” - Femi Bakinson
68. My Car by Tony Tetuila
“One of the absolute highlights of my childhood. That hook, "you don hit my car" was permanently embedded in my brain for the longest time. Tony Tetuila created something catchy beyond reason, and as kids we'd sing it endlessly, dramatically, like we actually owned cars worth protecting. The beat, the humor, the energy, it all combined into pure nostalgia. Simple, fun, and utterly unforgettable.” - Femi Bakinson
69. Angel of my life by Paul Play
“A love song that defined romance for an entire generation. Paul Play's smooth vocals and heartfelt lyrics made this the soundtrack to countless relationships, dedications, and slow dances. It was the song you played when words weren't enough, when you needed music to express what your heart felt. Timeless, sincere, and beautifully crafted.” - Femi Bakinson
70. First of all by Olamide
“Olamide had EVERYONE in a chokehold with this one. You could be walking down the street and someone would shout "first of all!" and you knew, you absolutely had to respond with "introduction!" It became a cultural call-and-response, a shared language. The song was infectious, clever, and undeniable. ” - Femi Bakinson
71. Come closer by Wizkid x Drake
“A classic collaboration that proved Wizkid's global reach. Bringing Drake onto an Afrobeats track felt monumental. The chemistry was effortless, the vibe infectious, and the song became an international anthem. Watching Wizkid operate on that level, seamlessly blending worlds, made us all proud.” - Femi Bakinson
72. Pon pon pon by Dagrin
“Pretty sure every kid back then could rap along to this song word for word. Dagrin's rapid-fire Yoruba delivery was hypnotic, challenging, and addictive. We'd practice until we got it right, stumbling over syllables until they flowed naturally. It became a badge of honor, if you could keep up with Dagrin on Pon Pon, you had credibility. His energy was raw and authentic, representing the streets with unfiltered honesty and skill.” - Femi Bakinson
73. Double Wahala by Oritsefemi
“Pure street anthem energy. This song had so many quotables, you just had to be there man.” - Femi Bakinson
74. Action film by MI x Brymo
“That hook was absolutely crazy. Brymo came through and did his thing so well he almost bodied MI on his own track. The contrast between MI's sharp bars and Brymo's haunting vocals created something cinematic, exactly like the title promised.” - Femi Bakinson
75. Superstar by Ice Prince
“ A straight club banger, no discussion needed. Ice Prince was gliding on that beat with effortless swagger and precision. Once the DJ dropped this, people completely lost their home training, all decorum abandoned, pure chaos on the dance floor. The energy was electric, infectious, impossible to resist. Ice Prince earned that Superstar title with this track, proving he belonged at the top of the game.” - Femi Bakinson
76. Beat of life by Sarz x Wizkid
“Need I say much? That beat is absolutely insane. Sarz created something otherworldly, and Wizkid floated over it like he was born for that exact moment. The production, the melody, the vibe—everything aligned perfectly. Pure magic captured in audio form.” - Femi Bakinson
77. Dem Mama Anthem by Timaya
“You simply had to sing along to this song, no choice in the matter. Timaya had this way of creating irresistible anthems that grabbed you by the collar and demanded participation. But beneath that infectious, celebratory dancehall beat was something darker—a satirical, mournful chronicle of the Odi massacre. The upbeat tune served as a clever decoy, making us dance while delivering painful truth.” - Femi Bakinson
78. Belle by Omawumi
“Omawumi's voice has always carried this raw, soulful power that stops you mid-conversation. Belle showcased her ability to blend traditional Nigerian sounds with contemporary production, creating something uniquely her own.” - Femi Bakinson
79. Alobam by Phyno
“The moment Major Bangz's production hit, you were hooked. Phyno delivered his verses with a commanding flow, rapping entirely in Igbo without apology or compromise. "Alobam"—Igbo slang for "my guy"—was a phenomenon that advanced Eastern rap into the mainstream. An anthem celebrating brotherhood, name-dropping Olamide, Flavour, Ice Prince, and P-Square The Clarence Peters-directed video sparked fashion trends, those Alobam tees and gold stars became symbols everyone wanted to wear.” - Femi Bakinson
80. Shoki by Lil Kesh
“Lil Kesh had everyone busting dance moves to this absolute classic. It didn't matter where you were, once Shoki came on, you had to get on your feet and do the dance. No exceptions, no excuses. The choreography became a cultural phenomenon, a language everyone spoke through movement. Lil Kesh created a moment that united dance floors everywhere with one unmistakable rhythm.” - Femi Bakinson
81. Shake Body by Skales
“As the name clearly implies, you absolutely had to shake your body. Skales created a command disguised as a song, and we all followed orders gladly. The beat was designed for movement, the energy impossible to contain while sitting still. Sometimes the best songs are the simplest ones that make your body move before your brain catches up.” - Femi Bakinson
82. Ara by Brymo
“Brymo truly knew how to craft catchy hooks that burrowed into your brain. Once Ara came on, singing along wasn't optional, it was compulsory. His unique voice and melodic sensibilities created something hypnotic and irresistible. The simplicity of the hook masked its genius; it stuck with you for days, weeks even.” - Femi Bakinson
83. Juice by Ycee x Maleek Berry
“A classic, plain and simple. Ycee and Maleek Berry created something that felt both fresh and timeless simultaneously. The production was crisp, the vibe immaculate, and the energy infectious. Juice had that rare quality of sounding good everywhere, in the club, in your headphones, at parties, alone in your room. Some songs just get it right from every angle, and this was one of them. Effortlessly cool, endlessly replayable. ” - Femi Bakinson
84. Soldier by Falz x Simi
“Proper storytelling at its finest. Falz and Simi crafted a narrative that was funny, relatable, and brilliantly executed. The back-and-forth dynamic between them felt natural, like eavesdropping on a real conversation. Then the visuals came and elevated everything, top-notch production that brought the story to life perfectly. This collaboration showed that Nigerian artists could do concept songs with Hollywood-level creativity and execution. Pure artistry from start to finish ” - Femi Bakinson
85. Jamb Question by Simi
“The song that introduced me to Simi's artistry and what an introduction it was. That hook was taken from Nigerian slang, loosely translating to "don't ask me a stupid question." Simi's wit, her smooth vocals, and clever wordplay all came together beautifully. She wasn't just singing; she was conversing, relating, making you laugh while making you feel. This song showcased her unique ability to blend humor with musicality effortlessly.” - Femi Bakinson
86. Skin Tight by Mr Eazi x Efya
“Mr Eazi and Efya absolutely cooked on this one. The chemistry between them was undeniable, their voices blending perfectly over that smooth, seductive production. Skin Tight had this intimate, late-night vibe that made you feel something deep. Efya's vocals added layers of emotion while Mr Eazi's laid-back delivery kept everything effortlessly cool. This collaboration proved that sometimes less is more—subtle, sensual, and completely captivating. ” - Femi Bakinson
87. Tonight by Nonso Amadi
“This song flooded the airwaves, and for good reason. Nonso Amadi's voice carried this gentle vulnerability that made Tonight feel intimate despite its widespread popularity. The production was clean, allowing his vocals to shine without distraction. It became the soundtrack to countless evenings, that perfect song when the night was just beginning and anything felt possible. Nonso proved he belonged among the greats with this one track.” - Femi Bakinson
88. Yes/No by Banky W
“A love song that captured romance with sophistication and sincerity. Banky W's smooth delivery and heartfelt lyrics made Yes/No the perfect song for expressing feelings you couldn't quite articulate yourself. It became the soundtrack to proposals, dedications, and vulnerable moments.” - Femi Bakinson
89. Last Last by Burna Boy
“This song is so incredibly good. Burna Boy had everyone singing this heartbreak anthem even in the club, tears and dancing somehow coexisting perfectly. The Tony Braxton sample, his raw emotion, the relatability, it all combined into something magical. People screamed "everybody go chop breakfast" like a battle cry.” - Femi Bakinson
90. Bumper to Bumper by Wande Coal
“A club classic, no debate necessary. Wande Coal's smooth vocals over that infectious beat created pure magic on dance floors everywhere. The energy was sensual, the vibe undeniable, and the song became synonymous with good times and close dancing. Wande had this gift for making party songs that never felt cheap or disposable. Bumper to Bumper remained timeless, still getting the same reaction years later.” - Femi Bakinson
91. Johnny by Yemi Alade
“ The storytelling was relatable, the hook was addictive, and Yemi Alade’s energy was explosive. Yemi announced herself as a force to be reckoned with, unapologetically bold and undeniably talented.” - Femi Bakinson
92. Fall in Love by D’Banj
“ A classic that defined an era. D'Banj's charisma radiated through every second of this track, his signature harmonica adding that unique Kokomaster flair. Fall in Love was romantic without being corny, catchy without being simple. It became the soundtrack to countless relationships and hopeful crushes.” - Femi Bakinson
93. Get me high by Mayd
“ A proper banger from start to finish. Mayd brought that fresh energy and smooth production that made Get Me High irresistible. The vibe was intoxicating, living up to its title perfectly. It had that quality of making everything feel elevated, better, more vibrant.” - Femi Bakinson
94. Jaga Jaga by Eedris Abdulkareem
“"Jaga Jaga" a slang for shambles in Nigerian parlance and everyone sang this song unapologetically. Eedris fearlessly called out the chaos, corruption, and dysfunction plaguing the nation. The song was controversial, banned even, but that only made it more powerful. We sang it loudly, defiantly, because it spoke the truth we all recognized.” - Femi Bakinson
95. Oleku by Ice Prince x Brymo
“Ice Prince's sick verse blended flawlessly with Brymo's impossibly catchy hook, creating a nationwide sensation. Oleku was everywhere, you couldn't escape it, and nobody wanted to. The chemistry between them was perfect, each elevating the other's strengths. The song had this effortless cool that made everyone feel stylish just for knowing the words.” - Femi Bakinson
96. Danfo Driver by Danfo Driver
“That Galala-stepped rhythm and pidgin-reggae infusion struck a chord with everyone. Danfo Driver represented the streets authentically, their sound raw and unapologetically Lagos. Everyone loved this song because it felt real, lived-in, genuine.” - Femi Bakinson
97. Love Nwantiti by Ckay
“The melody was deceptively simple yet impossibly catchy, worming its way into every corner of the internet and beyond. Watching it blow up on TikTok, hearing it in clubs across continents—it was surreal.” - Femi Bakinson
98. Dami duro by Davido
“The song that introduced Davido to the world and changed everything. "Dami Duro" meant "don’t hold me back," and we all didn’t exactly hold back. The energy was explosive, youthful, and unapologetically bold. Davido burst onto the scene with confidence that couldn't be ignored, creating an instant anthem that took over streets, clubs, and airwaves.” - Femi Bakinson
99. One Naira by MI x Waje
“Waje's incredible voice paired with that unforgettable hook, then MI came through with bars that elevated everything. The contrast between Waje's soulful singing and MI's sharp rap created perfect balance.” - Femi Bakinson
100. Joro – Wizkid
"I don't know about anyone else but Joro was that song that made me feel all giddy. It gave a very smooth and addictive feel. It still does!. If another voice that wasn't Wizkid’s had sung the song, it wouldn't have been a hit. His voice was a key element to the song. Every replay feels like falling in love with it again." - Adedoyin Adeoye
Fardin Hazratizadeh’s path to becoming the Footwear Design Director at Amiri is a story of how technical precision meets high-fashion intuition. His journey didn't begin in the storied ateliers of Europe, but within the vibrant sneaker culture of the Bay Area. For Fardin, footwear was never just a hobby; it was a way to connect and find identity after moving to the U.S. at a young age. This early interest quickly evolved into a deeper curiosity about the "how" and "why" behind product design, sparked by the emergence of groundbreaking technologies like Nike’s Flyknit.
Fardin’s formal education at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco provided the technical framework he needed to turn his passion into a profession. Focusing on Industrial Design, he didn't just learn to sketch silhouettes; he learned to think like an engineer. He obsessed over the balance between form and function, viewing every shoe as a complex puzzle of materials, ergonomics, and aesthetics.
His early career was defined by a relentless drive to learn. From his initial roles in the industry, Fardin stood out for his ability to translate high-level concepts into wearable reality. He understood that a great shoe isn't just a piece of art it’s a performance tool that has to withstand the rigors of the world.
The shift from performance-based design to the world of luxury fashion was a pivotal moment in Fardin’s career. By bringing a performance-first mindset to the luxury space, he helped redefine what "luxury footwear" could be. It wasn't just about premium leathers and high price tags; it was about the integrity of the build.
At Amiri, Fardin has found a space where his technical background and his eye for modern luxury can coexist. As Footwear Design Director, he oversees the development of products that resonate with a global audience, blending the laid-back energy of California with the meticulous standards of high fashion.
Despite his success, Fardin remains a student of his craft. He approaches each new season with the same curiosity he had as a kid in the Bay Area, constantly looking for ways to push the boundaries of materials and construction. For Fardin, design is an ongoing evolution a process of refining, learning, and staying true to the fundamental principles of good design. Today, Fardin Hazratizadeh stands as a key figure in the footwear industry, not because he sought the spotlight, but because he stayed focused on the work. His journey serves as a reminder that when you combine a deep respect for technical craft with a genuine passion for the product, the results speak for themselves
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Chord Notes: Body Rhythms in the City
Over the last years, the transactional dynamics of cities towards excess profit and increased speed, together with the adoption of global ideas upon local culture have been theorized, staged and debated within independent art and research projects but also within major art events such as the Lagos Biennial. It is with this in mind that the 2025/2026 edition of Dreaming New Worlds - a project by Goethe-Institut Nigeria, curated by Obieze Chinyere in collaboration with Orinayo Odubawo, asked women art collectives to critique, appreciate and present their ideals towards urban planning.
The result was an inquiry into the body as a starting point through which the city’s structures, behaviours and activities are acted out - acknowledging that bodies are differently policed, exhausted, racialized, disabled, and gendered within rigid urban systems, in Nigeria as elsewhere.
This immersive show manifests the 2025/2026 collective's aspirations toward solution-oriented, embodied design thinking over techno-utopian spectacle. Here, the city is understood as a lived, sensory, and social experience shaped through movement, breath, memory, and care.
Space, in this exhibition, is not empty. It is a social and sensorial construct formed through perception, access, and behavior.
Sarauniya Ènè
The Lagos-based, women-led collective Sarauniya Ènè works across architecture, design, archeology and olfactory practice. They draw from African matriarchal systems, oral histories, and pull contested narratives of women and women's legacies to present their relevance and tensions for now and the future. In their installation, the collective interrogates memory and spatial justice through an adventurous radical sensory experience.
Their installation is inspired by the legacy of the contested historical figure: Queen Amina of Zaria. She is a warrior ruler whose existence remains debated even among her own people. Queen Amina is said to have ruled and expanded the city of Zaria from 1576 to 1610 through military expansion. With material evidence of her empire surviving primarily through nonfunctioning gates that dot the city of Zaria, and Erabor Emokpae’s epic painting, Queen Amina of Zaria (1976), her symbolic presence has endured in contemporary cultural memory solely for her achievement of imperial conquest as a woman.
Sarauniya Ènè offers a probe to how such a queen would be erased in her own land, what the realities of her rule and benefits were, and if it can inspire city building today. Rather than monumentalizing power, the collective proposes that true legacy resides in embodied joys, shared imagination, and intergenerational values of residents. Their installation translates this idea into an olfactory landscape, charting their utopic city through scent.
Visitors encounter Taruwa City, a mythic urban vision shaped by their community submitted dreams of an ideal city. The city overarchingly carries notes of ozone, mint, citrus, and warm woods, layered with subtle cracks of newly minted technology. Markets release the smell of spices and herbs. Earthy notes root the city in stability, while milk, coffee, and cinnamon evoke human closeness, and at the edges linger leather and cardamom, reminders that history and struggle are never erased.
Through olfactory art, Sarauniya Ènè proposes a different kind of living monument.The smell reminds the visitor that they belong to a space, and not just any space,but their city built in collaboration with the visitor's memories.
Sarauniya Ènè is made up of
1. Stephanie Isah, a Lagos-based olfactory artist, researcher and poet
2. Odum Rita, a Lagos-born designer
3. Vetum Gima Galadima, an archaeologist, curator and artist from Kaduna
4. Joy Sunday George, a 3D artist
MatriAér Lab
MatriAér Lab is a multidisciplinary collective exploring women centered visions of future living. The collective brings together practitioners in architecture, horticulture, sound design, and digital art to create immersive spatial environments. Their project, The Breathing City, imagines an urban system designed according to the tempo of the breath. Here, architecture, traffic, labor, and domestic life move rhythmically; and the city is envisioned as an interconnected body linked through shared gait and sound.
They make use of the kitchen and the community center as the space from which to understand and regulate this tempo. Additionally, wet-adapted plant systems in their installation reference Lagos as a coastal city, and the capacity for the cycles of plants and water to remind the visitor of how urban design can coexist with water bodies promoting ecological preservation.
The main thesis of this collective is that by prioritizing breath in shaping the city,design can be inspired to better serve the people. There is an embodied knowing of the tempo to space in the city from which structure that maximizes collective good can be created.
Sculpture, animation, and sound bring this environment to life, blurring the physical and digital space, to propose that community, ecological intelligence, and emotional well-being are infrastructural principles, not luxuries.
MatriAér Lab is made up of
1. Fiyin Koko, Lagos-based multidisciplinary artist
2. Xela, Lagos-based artist
3. Quadri Sorunke, Lagos-based architect
4. Fxrhino, sound designer
5. Monai McCullough, ecological researcher and horticulturalist
6. Zida Kalu, artist and project manager
Exhibition Programme
March
Friday 6th March 2026 - 12pm: Lagos Gallery Weekend: Curatorial Walkthrough
Saturday 7th March 2026 - 2pm: Lagos Gallery Weekend: Performance Presentation, and Generative Letter Writing workshop
Saturday 14th March 2026 - 2pm: MatriAér Lab Artist Talk
Saturday 21st March 2026 - 2pm: Scent Workshop by Sarauniya Ènè
Friday 27th March 2026 - 5pm: Film Screening: Sita-Bella, The First, 2023
April
Saturday 11th April 2026 - 2pm : Sarauniya Ènè Artists Talk
Saturday 18th April 2026 - 2pm: Workshop by MatriAér Lab
Friday 24th April 2026 - 5pm: Closing Party - Re Screening of Sita-Bella, The First, 2023 // Women in Architecture Friday 24th April 2026 - 7pm: Make your own scent party - Music Policy: We are all Chemicals
Credits
Chord Notes: Body Rhythms in the City is an exhibition project by Goethe-Institut
Nigeria as a part of Dreaming New Worlds.
Chord Notes: Body Rhythms in the City is curated by Chinyere Obieze in collaboration with Orinayo Odubawo
Exhibition Design: Federico Martelli
Exhibition Production: A Whitespace Creative Agency
Production Lead: Abigail Iyowuna
Partners: CCA Lagos, Lagos Urban Development Initiative LUDI, Abela Olfactory Art Center, and A Whitespace Creative Agency
An exhibition project by Goethe-Institut Nigeria
Curated by Chinyere Obieze in collaboration with Orinayo Odubawo
Venue: Center for Contemporary Art CCA Lagos, 9 McEwen Street Yaba, Lagos
Dates: Friday February 13th, 2026 - Thursday April 30th, 2026
Opening Days: Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday
Time: 10am - 6pm daily
A Playlist Bringing Back Jams That Didn’t Get Their Flowers
Whether this season of love is filled with butterflies or embers, we have the serenading playlist for you. As Shakespeare once said; “The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite,” and although the musical streets have us fulfilled these past two years with love anthems from ‘Raindance’ by Tems & Dave, and a rise in R&B feels such as Nigerian sweetheart Odeal, these carefully selected songs; however, may have gone over all of our heads. For this reason alone, it is only right to bring them forth once more now that love is in the air and our hearts can’t stop blooming.
Love Like Poison By LYRXX
Slow and steady in his rise to stardom is none other than Nigerian singer-songwriter LYRXX with his sensational song ‘Love Like Poison.’ With a rhythm that makes you move your hips like in Samba and lyrics meant to make your heart melt to his soothing voice, this is the perfect start to your Valentine’s day. Just like most Afrobeats artists we’ve grown to adore, LYRXX sparked his entrance into the music scene through clever covers. You see, rather than singing the songs as they were meant to, he’d harmonize above the original vocals, making him stand out as not only a vocalist to watch for this 2026, but a talented one at best who can smoothen your heart to any song he touches.
Ifeoma By Ozedikus, CupidSZN, BoiGizmo
If you’re tired of listening to ‘Soweto,’ but need a song that evokes the same emotions, then ‘Ifeoma’ by Ozedikus, CupidSZN and BoiGizma is the right choice for you. Their pairing, and especially the vocalist on the first verse, it will have you close your eyes and hum along like nobody is around. It's simple in its structure and pleasing to the ears; however, maybe that is what you’re looking for, maybe this is what you’re into and ‘Soweto’ younger and newcomer brother is what you needed all along and we just confirmed it for you.
Milli II By Ir Sais & SO7ACE (feat. Jungeli & Victony)
It is safe to say that last December's releases went through a lot of people’s heads. First released in 2024, ‘Milli II’ comeback stands as strong and bold as ever. Not only is it the first time we catch Congolese-French Afropop singer Jungeli collaborating with a Nigerian singer, namely Victony. But also, it’s been a while since we heard of him, and how best to return to our playlists with a feature we didn’t know we needed yet? Just like fine wine, this song only gets better with time and it is a must have on our playlist this love season.
Round & Round By Pa Salieu
Every listen, every bar he spits, it’s like there’s something new to uncover about the Gambian-Conventry star Pa Salieu and his 2024 love single ‘Round & Round.’ A master in lyricism and African love, this song you should have been bumping to every Valentine since its release will have you reflecting on the layers within yourself you didn’t even know you possessed. It is hard to say whether the honesty felt in his delivery or the heartfelt lyrics is what really carries the song away; however, one thing is clear; this tune is for a love like no other.
Iweriwe Love By Chella
If the boy Chella isn’t talking about Nyuash this season, then he must surely be unveiling his romantic affection in ‘Iweriwe Love.’ It has come to my attention that both tracks, if they do not at least share the same instrumental parent, then we must have gotten deaf. It is as if Chella had a longer version with both included and decided to separate them, each with their own elements of content. Nevertheless, this track is here to stay in our playlist– and so does Chella.
Forévà By Tayc
If it is not the prince of French Afropop Tayc, most famously known for singing about love in its most vulnerable state, then what else will make you believe love is real? ‘Forévà’ is not your typical one of many romantic loves we see so often these days, au contraire, it is unconditional. If this is the vibe you’re on this Valentine day, then you may as well let this song play in the background as you get on one knee and propose to the love of your life. Let’s just say, Tayc did not disappoint, this song will literally be played forever…
Ruin By Usher & Pheelz
After a rainbow always comes the rain, and we did not forget about you if you're heartbroken this season. Like we said, this playlist is for everybody. That’s right, because even in the most beautiful time of the year, there’s always that one guy ready to bring out the sad violin and remind us all that heartbreak is just around the corner. Truly, ‘Ruin’ by Usher & Pheelz is a sweet reminder of the power that love possesses. And just like that reminder, your Valentine is felt with reflection, pondering, maybe regrets and a little bit of shoulder movements.
Please Don’t Fall in Love with me By Khalid
If the previous is the softer version of what you’re feeling and you need something stronger, then ‘Please Don’t Fall in Love’ by Khalid is just up your alley. Why give yourself a hug when you could be crying your eyes out, both hands on your knees and singing along to lyrics that cut deep, right? This is when the phrase; “May this love never find me” begins to sound like a prayer you must tell yourself every time you’re done listening to this song.
Melodrama By Theodora & Disiz
And then, maybe feeling is not what you’re looking for and you prefer to feel nothing at all. This is exactly how ‘Melodrama’ by Theodora & Disiz can be interpreted as you’re dancing around your living room aimlessly in your pajamas, wanting to forget Valentine’s day ever existed in the first place. This season would also not have felt special without you and this don’t-know-how-to-feel-about-this hit of a song is the perfect chaotic balance we didn’t forget to include on our been there list.
Soar By Aqyila
Last but not least, if you’re ready for healing this love season, then this may be the right song for you. ‘Soar’ by Aqyila sounds like a ballad of rediscovery as you let go of the past and let yourself transcend to a new dimension. Whatever left you broken, whatever had you confused, this song is the perfect way to spend your Valentine in a state of mine to heal through music.
So, what have we learned this love season? Whether emerging or established, let’s not sleep on those bangers ever again. Love may come and go, but Valentine’s Day is here to stay. Whatever ways you choose to spend this special time, may this playlist make you feel understood, seen and appreciated.
The year 2025 marked a definitive turning point for electronic dance music (EDM) and house music in Nigeria. No longer a niche subculture confined to the fringes of Lagos nightlife, the scene exploded into a vivacious industry, recording a staggering 403% growth in engagement and consumption. This electronic renaissance was fueled by a unique blend of indigenous sonic experimentation, the influx of global heavyweights, and, importantly, a dedicated ecosystem of collectives that prioritised community over commercialism.
In 2025, the Nigerian house scene was defined by collectives. These groups acted as curators, safe spaces, and tastemakers, each carving out a distinct identity.
The rise of Group Therapy (GT) is one of the most significant case studies in the professionalisation and global scaling of the Nigerian electronic scene, or even any scene at all. Group Therapy started in 2023, and by 2025, it evolved from a series of niche underground gatherings into a cultural bridge for major global entries, including Boiler Room and Keep Hush. Under Aniko’s leadership, Group Therapy hosted the most impressive range of raves in 2025, from the impromptu “SMWR” editions in multi-storey car parks in Lagos Island to “KlubAniko” at the sophisticated Royal Box Centre in Victoria Island, and managed to maintain top quality across board. Group Therapy’s lineup for every 2025 edition paved the way for a more diverse roster of DJs – including many women, nonbinary, and intersex artists – to play prominent roles in the 2025 rave cycle. However, the collective's most significant achievement was the successful attraction of a record number of renowned international DJs to its Lagos-based editions.
As one of the longest-running house music residencies in Lagos, Element House (under the Spektrum banner, run by Ron and DelNoi) provided the necessary stability for the scene. Their monthly editions remained the "gold standard" for consistency. The 2025 rave calendar kicked off with a visually stunning Element House edition, courtesy of artist Bidemi Tata. This event marked the beginning of a sustained partnership between the organisers and the University of Lagos-trained artist. Throughout the rest of the year, they continued to collaborate with Bidemi Tata to refine their visual narrative, transforming each subsequent event into a sophisticated, high-concept, and fully immersive experience. In 2025, Element House achieved two significant milestones. Firstly, it solidified its position as the scene's "reliable giant," providing a predictable, safe, and carefully curated environment through its monthly residency. Secondly, Element House successfully cornered the economic power of the scene. By catering to a demographic of ravers who prioritised comfort over the raw atmosphere of a warehouse, they legitimised house music to corporate Nigeria. It is fair to claim that this appeal helped secure sponsorships that were out of reach for more underground rave events. The Element House lineup for every episode was also impressive, with them closing the year with a 2-hour Francis Mercier set.
Monochroma Live started in 2024, and by 2025, they were already full throttle. The collective, spearheaded by Blak Dave and Proton and structurally backed by KVLT, approached nightlife with a simple philosophy: intentional, structured, and visually minimalist. This mindset was expressed through their signature monochrome aesthetic. Monochroma utilised the rhythmic familiarity of 3-Step to seamlessly convert normies into house enthusiasts, proving that the underground can grow without having to be clandestine, and without having to be diluted. This philosophy, coupled with the sonic direction of the Monochroma’s leaders, defined their 2025 programming and resulted in a year of cross-cultural convergence. 2025 on the Monochroma Live calendar culminated in the massive Dance Eko collaboration featuring Mörda, Blak Dave, JNR SA, Aniko, SoundsOfAce, and Earthsurfing, a finale that perfectly encapsulated Monochroma’s spirit.
In 2025, Sweat It Out solidified its standing as the raw, beating heart of the Nigerian underground, distinguishing itself by maintaining the gritty, industrial ethos of global rave culture. Under the sonic stewardship of resident headliner Sons of Ubuntu, the collective has kept the flame alive, curating sets that traverse the darker, more hypnotic corridors of Techno, Minimal Tech, and Acid House. The brand’s 2025 run reinforced its status as the scene's most vital safe space. Acknowledging the inherently queer roots of electronic dance music, Sweat It Out provided a rare, judgment-free sanctuary where gender expression and identity were not just tolerated but celebrated as essential to the technicolour vibrancy of the night. This commitment to inclusivity created a loyal following that prioritized the vibe over social hierarchy and/or buy-in. The year reached its apotheosis with "Sweat Therapy," a strategic year-end collaboration with Group Therapy. By closing 2025 with this unified front, Sweat It Out demonstrated that the underground remains undefeated, proving that a commitment to raw sound and radical safety is the strongest currency in the Lagos EDM scene.
While the major collectives dominated the headlines, the depth of the 2025 scene was defined by a constellation of parties that decentralised the culture and catered to specific communities. Leading this charge was Mainland House, which single-handedly dismantled the "Island-only" gatekeeping of Lagos nightlife. By planting the flag in different halls and production studios across the state, it offered a grittier, unpretentious alternative that tapped into the massive, underserved youth population of the Mainland, proving that the genre’s viability extended far beyond the elite coast. Simultaneously, Motion redefined the capital’s nightlife in Abuja. Far from being a shadow of Lagos, Motion carved out a distinct electronic identity, utilizing intimate spaces in the city’s capital to host rave experiences that currently sponsor FOMO and/or anticipation. In a bold expansion of the map, Red Light Fashion Room emerged as the avant-garde jewel of Ibadan, anchoring itself in the ancient city. A concept brought to life by Artpool Studios, Red Light Fashion Room created a unique hybrid that encouraged artistic expression via intentional grungy locations and the most original house rhythms, effectively modernizing the nightlife of the South-West beyond Lagos.
On the thematic front, the scene offered beautifully specific niches that prioritized "vibe" over sheer scale. Ilé Ijó (The House of Dance) stayed true to its name, stripping away the pretension of "cool" to focus purely on the kinetics of the dancefloor; it became the safe haven for those who wanted the soulful, spiritual connection of house music. Sunday Service enjoyed a highly successful year, with several editions becoming so popular they had to be shut down due to overcrowding. The event continued with its characteristic evening-to-midnight timing, with only a few unavoidable exceptions. Its relaxed, "sundowner" atmosphere proved vital, offering an accessible alternative for casual listeners who found the intense 3 AM warehouse scene intimidating. House Arrest, curated by the Naija House Mafia, had a year marked by a series of high-concept themed editions that demanded total commitment — not just from the crowd, but from the selectors themselves. Seeing the DJs spin while fully costumed on theme dissolved the barrier between the booth and the dancefloor, turning every edition into a cohesive, immersive performance rather than just a party. The Group Collective carved out a unique niche with their destination rave model, mastering the art of beachside escapism. Their editions, typically hosted at Tarkwa Bay, transform the rave into a 24-hour, overnight camping experience that demands total immersion. Their rapid ascent was cemented by the recent V4 edition, which saw them bringing in South African heavy-hitter Jashmir, signaling that this intimate, sand-and-sound community has graduated from a localized campout into a serious player.
In 2025, the "silo" mentality died. The most memorable events or editions were those where two or more heavyweights merged rosters and aesthetics.
Group Therapy x Boiler Room was the definitive event of the year. It validated the Lagos scene on a global level. It happened on the 26th of April with a lineup that featured a mix of established veterans from Lagos and abroad, including AMÉMÉ, Aniko, IMJ, and a Weareallchemicals b2b with Yosa. WurlD delivered a surprise performance, joining AMÉMÉ on stage during their set, adding to the already impressive lineup.
Green Light Fashion Room took the scene by surprise. Group Therapy teamed up with Red Light Fashion Room, a blooming EDM outfit operating out of Ibadan, to throw this memorable one. Many people remember it as one of the best EDM nights to ever happen in Ibadan yet. The lineup was nothing short of impressive either – starring Abiodun, Aniko, QueDJ, An.D, and Weareallchemicals – making the event nothing short of a masterclass in logistics.
Spotify Greasy Tunes served as the year's intersection of big-tech backing and underground culture, marking a sophisticated pivot for the scene. Partnering with the culinary hotspot Fired & Iced, this launch event kicked off a month-long residency that seamlessly blurred the lines between a culinary pop-up, a highly informative formal yap session, and a high-energy rave. Curated by Group Therapy, the opening night offered an experience that was anchored by South African 3-Step pioneer Thakzin, whose second stint in NIgeria was supported by a stellar roster including Aniko, WeAreAllChemicals, RVTDJ, and FaeM, setting a high bar for the fusion of food, culture, and electronic music.
Dance Eko distinguished itself as a massive, open-air festival that dedicated distinct days to Amapiano and House music. The House edition, executed in strategic collaboration with Monochroma, transformed the venue into a high-octane, open-air rave. The lineup was a formidable bridge between nations, featuring South African icons Mörda, Jnr SA, and the reunited Distruction Boyz (Goldmax & Que DJ). Locally, the decks were commanded by Blak Dave, Proton, Aniko, Abiodun, and Naija House Mafia.
Sweat Therapy was a masterclass in energy management. These movements combined the curated, deep selections of Group Therapy with the high-octane rave delivery of Sweat It Out. The result was a marathon-style party that happened on two floors of the multi-storey car park at the Odeya Centre, with each floor having its own sound – the type of rave you see only in a John Wick movie.
The Global Influx: International Players in the 234
The 2025 electronic calendar began with an intensity that signaled a new era for Lagos as a global rave destination. The influx started early in February when 3-Step pioneer Thakzin headlined a rainy edition of Monochroma. His performance was a defining moment that introduced hours of unreleased material and effectively cemented the 3-Step sound as one of the year's dominant rhythms. This momentum carried into April with a well curated event produced by M.E. Entertainment at the Royal Box Event Centre. Keinemusik’s Rampa brought the Cloud sound to Nigeria in a massive production that featured support from Aniko and Blak Dave. The night bridged the gap between underground electronic music and mainstream pop culture with surprise stage appearances by Burna Boy and Olamide. By May, the energy shifted towards Gqom as heavyweight Dlala Thukzin made his Lagos debut at the Livespot Entertainment Centre. It was the eighth edition and it is still quite fresh in the hearts of afrohouse lovers. His Group Therapy set is the most-watched house music set recorded in Nigeria and hosted on YouTube.
As the year progressed into the second half, promoters executed a strategic rollout of international talent that expanded the scene's geographic footprint. September saw a split of the legendary Gqom duo Distruction Boyz before their eventual reunion. Que DJ headlined the Group Therapy Ibadan edition on September 5, and just a week later on September 12, his partner Goldmax took over the Monochroma decks in Lagos. Thakzin returned for his second visit of the year on October 1 to headline the Spotify Greasy Tunes opening party. This specific appearance focused less on the rave aesthetic and more on a lifestyle approach that bridged dining culture with house and kicked off a month of talks, performances, and dinners at the same venue.
The final quarter of the year became a relentless parade of global superstars during the "Detty December" festivities. The surge began on November 7 when Gqom technician Funky QLA headlined the tenth edition of Group Therapy at Livespot and continued the collective's dominance in importing high-energy South African sounds. Deep House royalty Francis Mercier arrived on December 18 to headline Element House and brought his melodic house sound to the city. Desiree touched down shortly after for a highly anticipated set that showcased her eclectic Afro techno fusion. The year reached a nostalgic peak when Que DJ and Goldmax finally united on stage as Distruction Boyz at the Dance Eko festival in late December. They delivered a futuristic Gqom set that stood out as a major highlight. The year closed on an intimate note as Dlala Thukzin returned to headline Klub Aniko.
Beyond the headline shows, several other key figures deepened the scene's texture through niche and endurance events. Jashmir headlined The Group Collective’s V4 beachside camping rave at Tarkwa Bay and tested the endurance of the 24-hour party crowd. Dankie Boi became a recurring fixture who played pivotal sets for both the Group Therapy Abuja expansion and Monochroma in Lagos. Meanwhile, Skeedoh, Abiodun, and Ogor ensured that Ilé Ijó continued to educate the scene on the fringes of African electronic music by maintaining a robust relationship with the East African underground. Ile Ijo championed the fast-paced Tanzanian Singeli sound pioneered by acts like Jay Mitta and ensured the Nigerian scene remained connected to the continent's rawest and most traditional electronic roots.
The Ecosystem: Platforms and Partners
The sustainability of the 2025 boom was underpinned by a rapidly professionalizing support system that ensured the culture was not just experienced, but structurally sound and amplified. Central to this operational evolution was Our House. Far more than just a promotional platform, Our House functioned as the scene’s logistical backbone. Under the stewardship of key figure Becky Ochulo, the agency provided the essential human resources, operational strategy, and on-ground management that allowed complex rave productions to run smoothly. Furthermore, they professionalized the talent pipeline, offering booking and management services that finally gave Nigerian electronic artists the representation needed to negotiate with global stakeholders.
On the media front, platforms like Nocturne Music and Oroko Radio acted as the scene’s digital nervous system. Oroko Radio, in particular, served as the definitive archive, broadcasting underground sets to a global audience and ensuring that the energy of a Lagos warehouse was felt by everyone who could tune in. Visually, the aesthetic of the "Nigerian Raver" was codified by documentarians like Catch The Gigs, Exponential Vibes, and Genuine Ravers. These platforms provided the scene’s visual dialect, capturing the fashion, the sweat, and the darkness in ways that made the culture instantly recognisable on social media feeds worldwide. Deeds Mag established itself as an indispensable lifestyle collaborator, effectively linking digital media presence with tangible cultural output. Beyond offering comprehensive media coverage for major events, such as the widely successful Nitefreak show, they became crucial in shaping the visual culture of the scene's growth. Their partnership extended to serving as the aesthetic designers, including the creation and production of exclusive merchandise for the GT on Tour series, guaranteeing that Group Therapy's visual identity remained high-end and consistent as the rave expanded to cities outside Lagos.
This heightened structural integrity inevitably attracted capital. Giants like Smirnoff and Coca-Cola became ubiquitous, providing support required to scale these events. However, the soul of the ecosystem remained with QuackTails. Unlike the multinational giants, QuackTails has been there for quite some time – almost as early as the very beginning – providing a sense of authenticity and familial support, proving that the scene still valued community partnership over mere commercial sponsorship.
Looking forward, 2025 marks the maturity of Nigerian electronic music into a self-sustaining industry with a distinct global footprint. The spread of the sound is being driven by the diaspora and digital platforms, successfully integrating Nigeria into the global electronic tour circuit. The economic implications are profound, creating thousands of new jobs in event production, sound engineering, and creative direction. Perhaps most importantly, it has granted producers a new form of creative freedom; they are now empowered to engineer anthems for the dancefloor, designed for physical release rather than airplay, proving that the genre has found its own independent commercial lane.
Yet, this renaissance is being built on fragile ground, and the challenges facing the scene are as potent as the music itself. The infrastructure gap remains the most glaring hurdle, with a desperate need for dedicated, sound-treated locations to replace the makeshift venues currently in use. This lack of infrastructure complicates safety; as raves push deep into the early morning hours, protecting attendees during transit and navigating the complexities of local policing remains a source of constant anxiety for organizers. Furthermore, the economics of the scene are still precarious. Despite the corporate logos, Nigerian EDM is still in its infancy, meaning that much of the current activity is a financial labor of love driven by passion rather than profit. Finally, the scene faces a significant cultural friction: the struggle for acceptance in a conservative society. Given the genre’s inherent roots in queer culture, there is an ongoing tension regarding perception and safety, forcing the community to navigate the delicate balance between radical inclusion inside the rave and the conservative realities outside its walls.
In 2025, Nigerian house music found its voice. It was a rhythmic conversation between the pulse of Lagos and the sweat of its wide-eyed, vivacious youth. We are witnessing a scene growing in leaps and bounds, a reality validated not just when our institutions plant their flags on foreign soil — manifested this year in the successful exports of Group Therapy Accra and Group Therapy London — but in the undeniable global demand for our talent. The sound is now a veritable currency, evidenced by Blak Dave securing bookings around the world and Aniko’s monumental inclusion on the ADE lineup. At the same time, she and WeAreAllChemicals have become staples on major festival stages across Africa. We owe this current expansion to years of grassroots effort. For example, Dayo’s work with The Group Collective’s V4 effectively redefined the nexus of lifestyle, local camping, and EDM. At the same time, Lazio has solidified his reputation as the premier sound engineer for the electronic community and, effectively, the silent partner behind every major sonic activation. The movement has become truly boundless, stretching far beyond Lagos to unlikely frontiers like Calabar, where Kuffy Eyo’s Nocturna is pioneering a new consciousness in Nigeria’s geopolitical South-South. Through the support of these symbiotic microcosms, the Nigerian rave has graduated from a local secret to a viable cultural product. 2025 rolled into 2026 as the Sunday Service crowd crossed over at Lighthouse Bar and Grill, and one thing was clear: everyone is eager to see what 2026 holds for tinko-tinko music.
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