Group has quietly shaped the Nigerian fashion retail space for 25 years—no gimmicks, no theatrics, just consistency, taste, and the kind of vision that ages well. In 2000, when she opened the first Kontessa store at Elpina Plaza in Victoria Island, premium fashion retail in Nigeria was still an undefined space . But Ijeoma saw what was possible. She understood that women wanted more—more than just clothes.
omewhere along the line, beauty stopped being just about looking good. It became... something else. A kind of negotiation. A currency. A signal that says: I’m worth listening to, belong in this room, I’m in control, even when I’m not. If you’ve ever powdered your face before asking for a favour, reapplied lip gloss before speaking up, or changed your hair because you needed the world to treat you differently, you already know what I’m talking about.
This week, The Soft Power of Pretty: How Beauty Became a Strategy explores exactly that. It’s not a story about lipsticks or cheekbones. It’s about how appearance — particularly for women — has been weaponised, celebrated, and expected, all at once. Beauty, in this context, isn’t vanity. It’s a strategy. And it’s been working overtime. The piece doesn’t offer easy conclusions, but it does offer a mirror — and maybe a moment to ask if this is power, or just another pressure dressed up as one. That idea of power, presentation, and the unspoken rules around them also threads through another feature: How Much Is Too Much to Spend on Fashion? You already know this internal tug-of-war. One minute you’re being financially responsible, the next, you’re explaining to yourself why that designer bag is a “career decision.” We’ve all been there. But beyond the guilt or the thrill, the article looks at what our fashion spending really says about us — and what we’re trying to say to the world when we spend more than we should. Sometimes it’s confidence. Sometimes it’s anxiety in disguise. Either way, the conversation is overdue. And when it all starts to feel like a performance — the beauty, the wardrobe, the curated image — there’s one thing most of us quietly crave: rest. Not staged rest. Not self-care as content. Actual peace. That’s where Wellness That Feels Good — Not Just Trendy comes in. This one is for those of us who are tired of drinking green things we don’t like, signing up for classes we won’t attend, or pretending that a 15-minute face mask will solve a six-month spiral. It’s a reminder that wellness can be soft, slow, and deeply personal. That it doesn’t have to be productive to be valid.
These stories ask something simple: What does it really mean to feel good — in your skin, in your clothes, in your body, in your life? And are we getting any closer to that feeling, or just getting better at performing it?
Let me know if you figure it out.
Love,
STYLING IS A SKILL –AND YOU CAN LEARN IT LIKE ANYTHING ELSE
There’s something magnetic about people who know how to put an outfit together. The kind of style that makes you do a double-take, not because the clothes are expensive, but because there’s a story unfolding in the silhouette, the colour clash, the proportions. It’s considered, but not contrived. Effortless, yet intentional. And the truth is, it’s rarely about the clothes themselves. It’s about styling — the secret sauce that separates the well-dressed from the unforgettable. And contrary to what fashion elitists might have you believe, styling is not some rare, intuitive gift that descends on a chosen few at birth. It’s a skill. Learnable, developable, and available to anyone willing to train their eye and trust their instincts.
Style ≠ Styling
Having a great wardrobe doesn’t automatically make you stylish, and neither does buying what everyone else is wearing. Styling is what transforms those individual pieces into a conversation. It’s about rolling up a sleeve just so, pairing a denim jacket with a chiffon slip, or transforming your dad’s oversized shirt into a dress. It’s the art of elevation — and it’s often the difference between looking dressed and styled.
The Quiet Power of a Personal Uniform
One of the smartest things you can do as a stylist of your own wardrobe is to figure out what works and commit to it. Think of it as your personal algorithm. That doesn’t mean wearing the same thing every day — it means understanding the silhouettes, cuts, textures, and colours that speak your language.
Editing Over Excess
There’s a misconception that great style requires more and more clothes, more labels, more options. But real style is in the edit. The restraint. The subtle layering of ideas rather than things. Most fashion stylists will tell you: the best looks often come together from the same core pieces, just worn in completely different ways. It’s the shirt you wear backwards with the collar popped. The blazer you belt. The way you cuff your trousers to expose a sliver of ankle and a statement sock. Small tweaks, big difference.
The Practice of Play
Good styling comes from experimentation. Every outfit that works is usually the result of ten that didn’t. Stylists — real ones — try, tweak, reject, revisit. They study street style, follow the runways, stalk vintage
stores, and keep mood boards in their phones.
The average person doesn’t need to take it that far, but if you’re serious about refining your look, you need to get comfortable with the idea of play. Spend an hour with your closet. Try on things that feel “wrong.” Layer, mix textures, and photograph yourself. Notice what makes you pause — that’s usually where your style lives.
Styling Is Confidence in Motion
Here’s what no one says enough: a styled look is only as powerful as the person wearing it. Confidence is the final layer — the one thing you can’t buy or borrow. And the more you experiment and succeed (and fail and try again), the more that confidence grows.
The most stylish people don’t always have the trendiest pieces. What they have is perspective. A strong point of view. And an unapologetic attitude toward dressing for themselves. Not for validation. Not for applause. Just because they can.
EXECUTIVE EDITOR
ONO BELLO
LISA FOLAWIYO DANIEL OLURIN
CHIOMA IKOKWU
BUKKI GEORGE TAYLOR
Opinion: Are You in Love or Just Emotionally Dependent?
HOW MUCH IS TOO MUCH TO SPEND ON FASHION?
We live in a society where presentation isn’t just important—it’s power. A well-dressed person is often assumed to be successful, even credible. It’s no wonder Nigerians spend—sometimes extravagantly—to look the part. In cities like Lagos and Abuja, fashion is often strategic. A ₦400,000 blazer might secure access faster than credentials. A luxury handbag? Not just an accessory, but an unspoken résumé. However, fashion spending in Nigeria isn’t always about vanity. Sometimes it’s about visibility. In industries like media, politics, and entertainment, dressing well is part of the job description. But with the rise of social media, the pressure to look good—and look good often—has gone from subtle to suffocating. You’re not just dressing for the room anymore. You’re dressing for the feed.
And despite the economic downturn, luxury spending is on the rise. Even those without stable income streams are buying into the performance economy. Instagram boutiques, resellers, and influencers blur the lines between aspiration and reality. Fashion isn’t just a personal style statement anymore—it’s content. Curated. Calculated. Constant.
Of course, not all big spenders are driven by pressure. Some simply value quality, craftsmanship, and design. For them, fashion is a form of art or investment. These
are the collectors who archive limited-edition Birkins, whose wardrobes appreciate like stock portfolios.
But there’s also the other side— the strain behind the shine. The girl whose wardrobe is three salaries deep. The guy who takes loans to look like a CEO. These stories, once rare, are now common. Because the price of looking successful has never been higher, or more emotionally loaded.
And that’s where the question becomes relevant: how much is too much?
It’s not about demonising spending. Fashion is allowed to be fun, indulgent, even frivolous. The real issue is intent. Are you buying because you love it, or because you’re trying to fit someone else’s algorithm?
There’s also the difference between cost and value. A person might spend ₦1.3 million on a suit that lasts five years. Another might buy eight ₦20,000 pieces monthly that lose their shape after just one wash. So, maybe it’s less about how much you spend and more about how smartly you spend it.
In Nigeria, especially, fashion often intersects with dignity. A polished look can determine how you’re treated—at a restaurant, in traffic, even at the bank. Looking put together isn’t always vanity. Sometimes, it’s about being taken seriously. That’s why someone might save for months to show up perfectly at a wedding—not to flex, but to feel worthy.
It doesn’t help that trend cycles now spin at TikTok speed. What was in on Monday is tired by Friday. Everyone’s a stylist. Every brand has a drop. And because of the digital nature of style, your
In Nigeria, fashion is more than fabric and trends— it’s a cultural currency. It speaks at weddings, commands attention at birthdays, and seals impressions at political events. It’s a loud, visual declaration of status, ambition, and sometimes, survival. But in an economy where the naira fluctuates more than fashion trends and everyday essentials feel like luxury goods, the real question isn’t just “What are you wearing?” but “How much did it cost—and was it worth it?”
tag, but because of the confidence it inspires.
If you’ve ever stood in front of a mirror and felt empowered because your outfit just suits you, then you know: clothes can be healing.
And let’s not forget the broader ecosystem.
one luxury piece. Or you might swear by your tailor and thrift your way into style. Maybe you’re loyal to Nigerian brands. Maybe you mix Zara with Zashadu. All of it is valid.
wardrobe isn’t just in your closet—it’s archived in your phone gallery. If it’s been seen, it’s been worn. And if it’s been worn, it’s already “old.”
Yet, despite all of this, dressing up can be emotional. A new outfit after a breakup, a glow-up post-baby, a fashion reset after burnout. Sometimes, fashion is therapy. Not because of the price
Fashion in Nigeria supports designers, stylists, tailors, fabric sellers, dispatch riders, photographers, content creators, and more. Our obsession with looking good isn’t just a personal choice; it’s an economic engine. Spending on fashion— when done with thought— can be an act of creative patronage. Then there’s the evolution that comes with age. What feels like a splurge at 24 might feel like a smart buy at 34. As you grow, so does your fashion philosophy. You move from quantity to quality, from impulse to intention. Your budget may not change, but your taste does. Suddenly, it’s not about being seen—it’s about being remembered. And with that clarity comes less pressure to explain your choices. You might save for six months to buy
Because at the heart of it, the question isn’t about naira spent—it’s about alignment. Does your wardrobe reflect who you are, or who you’re performing to be? Are you shopping to express—or to impress? After the fashion high fades, do you feel peace or panic?
There’s no single rule, no “acceptable” fashion budget. For some, joy is in minimalism. For others, opulence. The key is knowing your why—and owning it. No one’s handing out awards for suffering stylishly. And no trend is worth your sanity.
So if you’re someone who buys ₦250,000 dresses that make you feel like the main character, and your finances agree, go ahead. And if you’re the minimalist who turns ₦18,000 into magic, applause is yours too. Fashion is one of the few spaces where every type of spender can belong.
HERMES BIRKIN
LUXURY BAG CHANEL AUTHENTHIC
BANKE KUKU
YUTEE RONE
Mr Faysal El-Khalil, Chairman of Seven-Up Bottling Company (SBC), spoke of Ziad
t often begins beautifully. A shared laugh. Long conversations that spill into dawn. You feel seen, chosen, even lit up from the inside out. Suddenly, someone else’s presence becomes the emotional weather of your day. You reach for your phone before your toothbrush. Their silence? Loud. Their attention? Addictive. You tell yourself this is love.
For many Nigerians, especially women, the distinction between love and emotional dependence isn’t just blurry—it’s rarely even explored. Our culture praises loyalty but often confuses it with emotional self-erasure. We’ve watched generations of women “stand by their man,” even when doing so meant standing in the rubble of their own joy.
We’ve seen men equate control with care and affection with ownership. From Nollywood storylines to kitchen-table advice, there’s a recurring theme: endurance is romantic, and needing someone is proof that you love them. But is it?
Love and emotional dependence are not synonymous. One expands you.
The other consumes you.
Kemi, 30, recalls the slow unravelling of a situationship that, though brief, drained her more than any official relationship ever had. “It wasn’t deep-deep,” she says. “But I found myself constantly checking my phone, reshuffling my plans just in case he suddenly decided I was worth his time. knew didn’t love him—not really. But the fear of him not choosing me made me feel physically ill. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right.”
Emotional dependence is sly. It doesn’t show up dressed in red flags—it wears romance like perfume. You think constantly checking in means connection. You think missing them so badly it hurts means depth. You think the anxiety you feel when they’re not around is passion. But often, it’s not passion. It’s panic. A subtle, constant dread that if they leave, you’ll collapse into a version of yourself you no longer recognise.
It’s not always about the other person either.
idea of starting over feels more unbearable than the pain of staying. At its core, emotional dependence is rooted in fear: fear of abandonment, of insignificance, of sitting with your own silence.
But love—real love—requires a whole self. Not a half looking for its missing piece.
Of course, love is vulnerable. To love is to risk being hurt, to give someone the power to wound you and trust that they won’t. But there’s a difference between vulnerability and surrender. There’s a difference between holding space for someone and losing yourself inside them. Love says, ‘I choose you, but remain myself.’ Emotional dependence says, can’t be okay unless you choose me back.
This is perhaps where our collective confusion lies. We’ve learned to glamorise intensity. The pining. The tears. The fights followed by desperate reconciliations. The constant monitoring of WhatsApp lastseens and decoding of Instagram captions. We call it passion, but it’s often just anxiety with a romantic filter. Attachment wounds dressed up in candlelight.
So, how can you tell the difference?
ARE YOU IN LOVE OR JUST EMOTIONALLY DEPENDENT?
Emotional dependence is often about what we need from them—validation, stability, identity. We cling not just to who they are, but to what their presence does for our sense of self. When your self-worth is unstable, someone else’s attention can feel like a life raft. You mistake the relief of being seen for the substance of love.
Tunde, 34, knows that feeling all too well. “I used to think love meant thinking about her all the time,” he says. “Like couldn’t enjoy anything unless we were doing it together. But then she travelled for two weeks, and I felt like was falling apart. That’s when I realised—I hadn’t just missed her. had built my entire sense of peace around her.”
That’s what emotional dependence does. It makes you forget how to be alone. It makes solitude feel like punishment. It makes you outsource your peace of mind to another person’s availability, their mood, and their whims.
And it’s not just romantic relationships. Friendships can become emotional crutches, too. You know the type—people who panic at the thought of a friend setting a boundary. People who overstay in one-sided dynamics because the
The answer isn’t in how often you talk or how strongly you feel. It’s in what remains when they’re gone. If their absence rattles the foundations of your self-worth, it’s not love—it’s dependency. If you still feel grounded, purposeful, and at peace when they’re not around, then perhaps you’ve built something healthier. Real love makes room for you to be whole. Dependency needs you to stay fragmented.
The truth is, most of us learn this difference the hard way. We call it love until it hurts too much. Until we find ourselves saying things like, “I don’t know who am without them.” Until the panic of disconnection becomes a daily ritual. And eventually, if we’re lucky, we learn that no relationship should cost us ourselves.
There’s no shame in realising you were emotionally dependent. Many of us were raised on love stories where obsession was the plot twist. We were taught that jealousy is devotion, that suffering is romantic, that sacrifice is the ultimate expression of love. But healing begins with the uncomfortable questions. Why does this person’s affection feel like oxygen? Why do feel worthless without them? Why does their distance feel like a punishment must fix?
Those questions aren’t signs of failure. They’re signs of awakening. Because at the core of emotional health is this truth: love should feel like a safe place to land, not an escape hatch from your own loneliness. And any relationship that requires you to shrink yourself to fit inside it is already too small.
Sometimes, walking away isn’t about giving up. It’s about reclaiming the parts of yourself that forgot how to stand alone. It’s about choosing peace over panic. Clarity over chaos. It’s about learning that the kind of love worth having is the kind that doesn’t ask you to trade your wholeness for companionship. The question rarely comes when things are rosy. It sneaks in through the cracks—when they don’t text back for hours, when they talk about solo plans and you feel a tightening in your chest, when the silence between messages begins to feel like abandonment rather than just space.
And then, in that still moment, you ask what no one ever taught you to ask: Do I really love this person… or am I just afraid of what I’ll find if I’m alone with myself?
That’s not just a question. That’s a mirror. And the answer could be the beginning of everything.
Chairman, SBC, Mr Faysal El-Khalil; Mr Ronald Chagoury, and MD, Sari El-Khalil
SBC Ziad Maalouf, former Managing Director SBC;
Faysal El-Khalil, Chairman, SBC;
Olusegun Alebiosu,
Director First Bank Nigeria; Sari El-Khalil, Managing Director SBC
Faysal El-Khalil, Sari El-Khalil,
Muyiwa Akinyemi, Group Deputy MD, United Bank for Africa (UBA)
MD, SBC, Sari El-Khalil with MD, Zenith Bank, Plc, Dame Adora Umeoji.
By Aliyah Olowolayemo
Once upon a time, Aso Oke was reserved for the big days—the ones that came with owambe invites, gele tutorials, and photographers on standby. It was the fabric of prestige, the crown jewel of Yoruba celebratory wear: bold, textured, woven with pride, and worn with a kind of reverence that made you stand a little taller. But that was then.
Now? Aso Oke is everywhere. And not in the way your grandmother might expect. A new generation of style lovers is reimagining the iconic fabric. Aso Oke bucket hats are now fashion week staples. Joggers laced with metallic thread glint in the sun. Even sneakers are getting the Aso Oke treatment, turning sidewalks into soft runways of heritage meets cool. Part of this shift is deeply
ASO
STREET STYLE
practical. Traditional Aso Oke used to be stiff, heavy, and, let’s be honest, a bit much for everyday errands. But modern weavers and textile artists are tweaking the script—softening the finish, lightening the weight, loosening the weave. The result? A fabric that still feels ancestral but doesn’t fight you on a humid Tuesday afternoon in Yaba.
There’s also an emotional current driving this trend. For many young Nigerians—especially those navigating life in diaspora or urban cities—wearing Aso Oke outside of traditional settings feels like a quiet act of connection. A subtle reminder of where you’re from, no matter how far you roam. It’s heritage; you don’t need a reason to wear it. It just fits. Of course, not everyone is clapping. Purists argue that Aso Oke belongs at weddings, not wine bars. That to strip it of occasion is to dilute its power. But culture, like fabric, doesn’t unravel
because it changes form. It unravels when it’s forgotten. And what this new wave of everyday Aso Oke wearers is doing is quite the opposite: they’re remembering—loudly, proudly, and in crop tops.
The beauty is in the balance. Nobody’s ditching agbadas or gele. We still show up and show out at events, wrapped and layered like royalty. But now, we also wear wrap skirts with white tees. We pair Aso Oke vests with wide-leg trousers and sneakers. It’s not about replacing the old; it’s about giving it more places to live.
Aso Oke is no longer waiting in wardrobes for December weddings or grandma’s birthday bash. It’s stepping out into lecture halls, art galleries, concerts, and content shoots. Into moments that aren’t grand but are still worthy.
Because culture doesn’t always need a ceremony. Sometimes, it just needs a good outfit.
Function First, Always
Before we dive into aesthetics, let’s address the basics: sunglasses protect your eyes from ultraviolet (UV) rays, which can cause long-term damage like cataracts and retinal issues. Look for pairs labelled UV400 or with 100% UV protection—anything less is just tinted glass. Then there’s glare, especially in sunny cities or when you’re driving. Polarised lenses help cut that out, offering better visual comfort and sharper clarity. If you’ve ever squinted through a mid-afternoon walk on a hot Lagos day, you’ll know this isn’t just a bonus. It’s necessary.
The Right Pair Has to Feel Right
Forget the face shape charts for a moment. Yes, certain frame shapes can balance out your features, but the best sunglasses are the ones that make you feel like you’ve got it together—even if you don’t. Some people swear by oversized square frames, others live in cat-eyes, and then there are the minimalist types who stick to
Tinted lenses in amber, yellow, rose, and blue are everywhere, making a case for sunglasses that feel lighter, freer, and slightly more playful than the heavy black staples we’ve all owned. And the 70s influence? Still going strong, with gradient lenses and goldrimmed aviators making a slow, stylish return.
How to Wear Them Well
Some wear sunglasses to hide. Others wear them to be seen. Either way, they change everything. The right pair can elevate a basic t-shirt or anchor a bold, experimental outfit. Match the attitude to your mood: oversized and dark for when you’re feeling untouchable; light and playful when you’re out to have fun.
And yes, they work beyond the outdoors. Red carpets, fashion shows, and even Sunday brunches have proven that sunglasses aren’t just sun tools— they’re part of the uniform. Just ask any editor or style insider: some of the best fashion moments are made behind a great pair of
EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT
SUNGLASSES
– THE FASHION ACCESSORY THAT DOES THE MOST
There’s something about sunglasses that instantly shifts a look from ordinary to intentional. Whether you’re walking into a meeting, slipping into a weekend hangout, or dodging the sun on a road trip through Lagos traffic, the right pair of shades can say a lot without saying much at all. They’re less about blocking light and more about owning your space.
wire-framed classics. It doesn’t have to be trendy. It just has to feel like you.
What’s
In Style Right Now?
The current wave is anything but subtle. Big frames are back, and they’re louder than ever—think rectangular wraparounds, tinted shields, and geometric shapes that almost double as face art. Fashion houses like Loewe, Balenciaga, and Celine are leaning into the drama. Even the onceridiculed skinny Y2K styles are enjoying a renaissance.
shades.
Care Matters Too
Here’s what often gets overlooked—how you treat them. Scratched lenses and loose arms can ruin even the chicest pair of glasses. Keep them in a case, wipe them down with a proper cloth, and resist the urge to toss them in your handbag unprotected. Sunglasses deserve better than the chaos of your tote bag.
Dear Reader,
SURVIV R
WARIF SURVIVOR STORIES
Welcome to the WARIF Survivor Stories Series, a monthly feature, where stories of survivors of rape and sexual violence are shared to motivate and encourage survivors to speak their truth without the fear of judgment or stigmatization and to educate the public on the sheer magnitude of this problem in our society.
The Women at Risk International Foundation (WARIF) is a non-profit organization set up in response to the extremely high incidence of rape, sexual violence, and human trafficking of young girls and women in our society. WARIF is tackling this issue through a holistic approach that covers health, education, and community service initiatives.
WARIF aids survivors of rape and sexual violence through the WARIF Centre - a haven where trained professionals are present full time, 6 days a week including public holidays to offer immediate medical care, forensic medical examinations, psycho-social counseling, and welfare services which include shelter, legal aid, and vocational skills training. These services are provided FREE of charge to any survivor who walks into the Centre.
A 32-YEAR-OLD WOMAN’S JOURNEY OF RESILIENCE AND HOPE.
Iwas referred to the WARIF Centre for medical assessment, treatment, and counselling after reporting a harrowing case of sexual abuse to the police.
At the time, I had been working as a cleaner in a residential compound for nearly a year. Life felt stable, the environment quiet, and carried out my duties each day with a sense of routine and purpose. That peace was soon disrupted.
Yinusa, the compound’s security guard, began making unsolicited sexual advances toward me not long after I started the job. I made it clear, again and again, that I wasn’t interested, hoping he would understand and stop. But he didn’t. Instead, he became more persistent, more invasive, refusing to respect the clear boundaries I had set. Then, his behaviour escalated. He began to threaten me, saying he would do whatever it took to get what he wanted, even if it meant drugging my food or drink to overpower me.
They barged in and saw him dressing up. told them everything, including the first incident. The neighbours immediately took him to the nearest police station, where he was detained.
The police then referred me to the WARIF Centre for comprehensive medical and psychosocial care. At the Centre, I was warmly welcomed by a compassionate and professional medical team.
I particularly found strength in my counselling sessions. The counsellor helped me understand that what happened was not my fault, and that I had been manipulated and violated. She supported me through my healing journey, teaching me effective coping mechanisms to manage trauma and guiding me to process my emotions healthily.
Roughly a month after that chilling threat, I returned from work one afternoon, tired and thirsty. drank from a bottle I had left behind earlier. Not long after, a strange dizziness came over me. My limbs felt heavy, and the world around me began to spin.
It was then that Yinusa appeared, laughing. He dragged me into the security room. tried to fight him off, but I was weak. He shoved a cloth over my mouth, muffling my cries for help, forcefully removed my clothes, and raped me. Afterwards, he began begging for forgiveness, while promising it would never happen again. As the drugs wore off and regained full awareness, was overwhelmed with confusion and pain. Despite his pleas, chose not to report him at that time because just wanted to stay away from him.
Although I forgave him outwardly, carried deep resentment, anger, and trauma inside me. avoided him as much as possible. But two months later, while cleaning the premises one morning, heard him crying out for help. I thought something terrible had happened, so I rushed into the security room, only to find that it was a trap.
As soon as I entered, Yinusa stopped crying and started laughing. He dragged me to his bed, and he forcefully undressed me, and said, “I knew I’d get you again.” He raped me a second time and he did not feel any sign of remorse like the first time. He beat me to submit and repeated the act a second time. All the while, he shoved a cloth into my mouth so no one would hear my cry for help. was able to remove the cloth from my mouth and screamed for help. kept screaming even after the act, and thankfully, my cries attracted some neighbours.
She also invited me to WARIF’s Monthly Group Therapy sessions, where connected with other survivors. There, I found healing, community, and a renewed sense of self-worth. Being at WARIF was truly an eye-opener for me because a painful experience turned into a blessing in disguise.
I no longer struggle with the intense sadness, mood swings, sleepless nights, or fear that once consumed me.
My case has been charged in court, and am confident that justice will be served. have since moved on to a new job and enrolled in a vocational training program. My goal is to start my own cleaning business upon graduation.
To the WARIF Medical Unit, the counsellors, and the entire staff and management, I extend my gratitude. You are truly amazing. May God bless you for helping women like me find healing, hope, and a future.
*Real name of the Survivor changed for confidentiality Dear Survivor, please know that you are not alone, and it is not your fault. Help is available. If you have been raped or know someone who has, please visit us at:
* Real name of the Survivor changed for confidentiality Dear Survivor, please know that you are not alone, and it is not your fault. Help is available. If you have been raped or know someone who has, please visit us at:
BY DR. KEMI DASILVA-IBRU AND GLORIA JOACQUIM
BOVI UGBOMA
COVER COVER
IJEOMA UBOSI STYLE, STRATEGY & STAYING POWER
Some brands make noise. Others make impact. Ijeoma Ubosi’s Kontessa Group has quietly shaped the Nigerian fashion retail space for 25 years—no gimmicks, no theatrics, just consistency, taste, and the kind of vision that ages well. In 2000, when she opened the first Kontessa store at Elpina Plaza in Victoria Island, premium fashion retail in Nigeria was still an undefined space. But Ijeoma saw what was possible. She understood that women wanted more—more than just clothes, they wanted curated experiences, excellent service, and a brand that truly understood their evolving tastes. What started as a single fashionforward store has evolved into a multi-city powerhouse with locations in Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt, and Warri. And still, she’s only just beginning. Over the years, Kontessa has become synonymous with stylish longevity, a brand that has outlasted trends, recessions, and the rollercoaster of the Nigerian economy. But Ijeoma didn’t stop at retail. Her ventures now span jewellery through Arsenal Ventures, premium gifting with Motivo Limited, children’s fashion via Kontessa Kids, and even international fashion with Nara Camicie. Beyond fashion, she has made bold moves into real estate and tech, investing in early-stage startups like MTech, Kamdora, and 440. NG at a time when “tech entrepreneur” wasn’t yet a buzzword. Her superpower? A deep understanding of people, especially women. Ijeoma knows her customer—and perhaps just as importantly, she knows herself. From her background in Pharmacy to executive training at Columbia, LSE, Lagos Business School and Henley, she has married instinct with intelligence, intuition with strategy. And while she’s long preferred to let her work speak for itself, there’s a visible shift now. As she marks 25 years in business, she’s ready to step into the light—not for vanity, but for legacy. In this rare and wide-ranging conversation, she opens up about her journey, her wins, her lessons, and what comes next for the woman who’s built an empire, invested in the future, and is finally ready to take centre stage.
Congratulations on 25 years of Kontessa. What does reaching that milestone mean to you?
Thank you very much! For me personally, it represents years of hard work, dedication, resilience, passion, but above all, God’s grace over the years. Through the ups and downs and challenges that come with running a business, have learnt not just about business but also about people, perseverance, and the power of staying true to your values.
It’s also a testament to the trust our customers have placed in the brand and journeyed with us. And the dedication to the incredible team I’ve had the privilege of working with over the years.
The retail landscape has evolved significantly over the last 25 years, and reaching this milestone means we have been able to evolve, adapt, and continue delivering value. It’s a celebration of relevance, service, and consistency.
Let’s go back to the beginning—what was your boldest move when you opened your first store at Elpina Plaza in 2000?
The decision to move into a commercial retail space was a daring and bold move. I had started 2years earlier from the boot of my car and progressed to a room in our boys’ quarters, plus I also couldn’t afford the rent of N250,000
per annum and had to pay 2 years upfront. was confident that would get good returns on this investment, It wouldn’t be easy but I was commited
How did you know, in those early years, that this was more than just a boutique – it was going to be a brand?
One of the main indicators was customer loyalty that extended beyond the product, as customers formed an emotional connection with the story and its values, which was about building a lasting relationship. Word of mouth and organic growth was phenomenal and very instrumental in building the brand we have today. was intentional about investing in myself early on by acquiring knowledge through reading relevant business books and attending courses on starting a business and building a brand. This helped solidify my gut instinct and ambition for how I envisioned the brand growing over the years.
What has been the most surprising thing about running a fashion and lifestyle retail business in Nigeria for two and a half decades?
The most surprising thing, honestly, is how style savvy and resourceful my clients are. We tend to underestimate how informed and intentional our customers are. They also place a lot of trust and faith in the brand, expecting to grow with you through the seasons, so you realise that customers want to have experiences, not just transactions. This keeps you sharp and on your toes.
On the flip side, the business terrain in Nigeria is no joke. Operational challenges, from constant changes in customs and other regulatory requirements to currency fluctuations, constantly test your resilience and drive. Being in the people business, customers expect a certain level of customer experience, which means simple things like power, security, and good customer service. All these add to your overheads but are important.
Fashion in Nigeria has changed dramatically in the past 25 years – how have you evolved with it without losing the Kontessa DNA?
The Kontessa DNA has always been and remains about curating fashion with a distinct point of view. We have always believed a woman should wear her accessories and clothes, not the other way round.
We embraced digital by meeting our customers where they are— online. From reimagining our in-store experience for social media to building a stronger online presence, we’ve made it easier for women to discover and engage with Kontessa beyond the physical store. Whether it’s styling tips on Instagram or personal shopping over WhatsApp, we’ve leaned into tech in a way that still feels personal.
As for global trends, we’ve never just followed them—we interpret them through a Kontessa lens. We pay attention to what’s happening around the world, but we always ask: how does this serve our women?
Whether it’s the return of minimalist tailoring or bold African prints going global, we curate what resonates and adapt it in a way that feels fresh, relevant, and true to our signature elegance.
We evolve by listening, staying rooted to our values of quality and commitment to elegance, individuality and a sense of timeless style.
Running multiple stores across cities like Lagos, Abuja, Warri, and Port Harcourt must be a logistical dance. How do you keep it all flowing?
Having structures in place, efficient processes, and a standard operating manual shared among all branches has made it easier to run multiple branches.
You’ve since diversified into several ventures—jewellery, corporate gifts, what makes you say yes to a new idea?
For me, saying yes to a new idea starts with alignment. It has to connect with my values and instincts. The opportunity has to be good and where one can make a difference and expand one’s portfolio. also do a lot of research into whatever new venture I plan to diversify into, not just because others are doing it. It has to connect to my values and my instincts, and I also have to see the value.
And let’s talk about Arsenal Ventures – what’s the story behind your move into gold and diamond jewellery?
My foray into jewellery started about 20 years ago while on a business trip to Milan for a leather goods fair. I went with an older friend to a jewellery wholesaler, and she encouraged me to buy a few pieces and test the market.
Would you say Nigerian consumers are becoming more open to homegrown premium brands?
The shift in embracing Nigerian brands, especially over the past
My foray into jewellery started about 20 years ago while on a business trip to Milan for a leather goods fair. I went with an older friend to a jewellery wholesaler, and she encouraged me to buy a few pieces and test the market.
decade, has been dramatic. Gen Y and Z have taken to wearing and promoting homegrown talent and brands. With the advent of social media and digital marketing, brands have taken full advantage of their offerings.
What’s your take on the future of retail in Nigeria, especially with digital, influencers, and changing customer behaviour?
The future of retail in Nigeria will be a blend of digital agility and emotional connection, and how you utilise these two elements to tell your story and convey your purpose. A greater proportion of the Nigerian customer is young, mobile-savvy, and global in their tastes. We are seeing a shift from transactional to experiential. People want to belong instead of just buying, being attracted to brands that reflect their values and speak their language while creating moments.
Digital is definitely leading the way with e-commerce, social commerce, even WhatsApp selling, but I don’t believe it will fully replace physical retail, more likely a hybrid.
If you could distil 25 years into one powerful lesson, what would it be?
Stay rooted but never stay still.
The world will change, customers will evolve, and you will be tested. It’s the ability to find your path, pivot if and when necessary, and grow organically, rather than chasing every trend, that’s the essential element in building something that lasts.
If Kontessa were a woman, how would you describe her personality?
She is bold, resilient, graceful, generous, a thinker and a builder.
Do you think Nigerian entrepreneurs – especially women – get enough credit for how hard they work to build brands from scratch?
Honestly, don’t think they get enough credit. Usually, we build from scratch with limited resources, minimal support from people and institutions, in environments that demand a thick skin to survive, how much more to thrive.
Despite the numerous hurdles they face, we still manage to create exceptional brands and businesses that compete at very high levels. The role of an entrepreneur is often juggled while wearing numerous other hats – wife, mother, community leader, etc.- yet we are often undercelebrated or dismissed as small businesses, forgetting that we are making a serious impact and contributing to society.
You’ve juggled building an empire with raising three children. What has that balance looked like for you through the years?
I have a very strong support system, and so have been able to navigate all fronts quite well. am married to an incredible man, Chris, who has allowed me to fly as high as wanted to. He’s my No. 1 cheerleader, encourager and backbone. Our children are grown up now, though in the early days, on my numerous business trips, had strong family support and staff, without which would have been very difficult.
What’s your relationship with visibility now? Are you finally ready to be the face of the empire you built?
I am naturally a shy person who is not very comfortable speaking in public, and have been more comfortable building behind the scenes and letting the work, the brand and the experience speak for themselves.
Increasingly, though, am being urged to share my story more, not for applause or vanity, but out of a sense of responsibility to inspire the younger ones and to show what is possible when you build with purpose and integrity.
What legacy are you trying to build – not just for Kontessa, but for Nigerian fashion, and women entrepreneurs coming after you?
The legacy I’m building is about opening doors that I didn’t find open, sharing my story, and being transparent about my journey so others can learn from my mistakes. Reminding the next generation to be audacious in their thinking and aspirations, and encouraging them to build, own and become the story.
My desire will be to leave behind more than a brand new blueprint.
One that says you can start small,, like did, from my car boot, and still reach the top. You can lead with grace and passion yet still command power. You can build a business with integrity and other core values and make it last.
WELLNESS THAT FEELS GOOD –NOT JUST TRENDY
We’ve all seen the “wellness” aesthetic: green juices, yoga mats, minimalist spaces, and people who somehow always look rested. But for most Nigerians, wellness can’t be curated in soft lighting and eucalyptus oil. It’s in the small, raw decisions we make to stay sane in an environment that constantly asks for more than it gives. If you’ve been feeling tired all the time, detached, overwhelmed, irritable or even just numb, this one’s for you. Here are 10 simple ways to take care of yourself that actually feel good, not just look good online.
1. First of all, admit you’re burnt out, not lazy.
You’re not weak. You’re not unserious. You’re just tired. Nigerians are taught to be strong, to keep going, to “hustle.” But strength isn’t only about endurance — sometimes it’s about knowing when to stop. Naming your burnout is the first step to healing it.
2. Drink water. No, really –drink water.
Not coffee, not malt, not zobo. Water. Dehydration disguises itself as fatigue, headaches, a bad mood, and low energy. Get a bottle you like, carry it with you, and sip throughout the day. It’s not a detox plan. It’s a life plan.
3. Sleep like your life depends on it – because it does.
You’re not doing your best work when you’re barely getting any sleep. Nigerians often joke about “sleep is for the weak,” but the truth is that a rested brain solves problems more efficiently. If you can’t sleep 8 hours, get six and nap when you can. Protect your sleep like you protect your bank account password.
4. Log out of things that drain you.
Mute the group chat. Unfollow the stress merchant. Don’t attend every argument you’re invited to online. Digital peace is still peace. If your screen time is high but your peace is low, something has to give.
5. Move your body in ways that don’t feel like punishment.
You don’t have to run marathons. Try dancing while cooking, stretching when you wake up, or taking walks without
your phone. Movement doesn’t have to be performance. It can just be joy.
6. Make space for silence –even if it’s five minutes. Your brain is not a generator. It wasn’t built to be on 24/7. Wake up five minutes earlier. Sit in silence. Breathe. It doesn’t have to be meditation or prayer — just quiet. Let your mind stop buzzing. Let it rest.
7. Eat real food, not just vibes. Nigerians are too used to surviving on food on the go. But real food = real fuel. You don’t need an organic smoothie. A plate of okra soup with eba will do. Feed yourself well. Your body is not a machine; it’s your home.
8. Protect your time like it’s gold.
You’re not being rude by saying no. You’re being wise. Don’t attend every owambe. Don’t pick every call. Not every task is urgent. You’re allowed to rest without guilt. That’s the real soft life.
9. Ask for help — it doesn’t make you weak.
Therapist. Mentor. Friend. Doctor. Pastor. Whatever support looks like for you, reach for it. You don’t get extra points in life for struggling alone. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s wisdom.
10. Redefine wellness for yourself.
Your version might not come with candles and crystals. It might be prayer. Or journaling. Or gist with your best friend. Or cooking in silence. Or switching off your phone for a whole day. Whatever gives you peace? Do more of that.
SKINCARE IN THE ERA OF INFLATION: WHAT WOMEN SHOULD ACTUALLY BE SPENDING
By the time you convert your favourite cleanser into naira, remember you still have sunscreen, serum, moisturiser, and that “must-have” exfoliant TikTok won’t stop talking about. One look at your bank app and suddenly that glow they keep selling on Instagram feels like a luxury you can’t afford. Welcome to skincare in the era of inflation, where clear skin meets cold reality.
protect. That means a gentle cleanser, a reliable moisturiser, and sunscreen. Everything else? Bonus. And if your budget is tight, bonus items can wait.
Still, the pressure to glow at all costs is very real. From beauty counters in Lekki to unboxing videos by skincare creators in Canada, it’s easy to feel like you’re behind if your shelf isn’t stocked with toners, essences, ampoules, eye creams, niacinamide, and that all-elusive retinol serum. But what good is glowing skin when you can’t afford to leave your house?
Nigerian women are not just skincare consumers. We’re beauty investors. We buy promises in bottles, hope in jars, and confidence in tubes. However, as prices continue to rise, many women are now asking, “What do I really need, and what can I leave on the shelf?” Spoiler alert: not everything in your 10step routine is essential, and no, that N85,000 snail mucin essence is not the key to inner peace.
LET’S START WITH THE BASICS: WHAT DOES SKIN ACTUALLY NEED?
According to most dermatologists (not influencers), good skincare boils down to three core things: cleanse, hydrate, and
ON
product – say, a vitamin C serum in the morning or niacinamide at night – is often enough to brighten and even out your tone. The real flex is consistency, not excess. Even a goldplated serum won’t work if it only comes out of your drawer once every two weeks.
2. Local brands are not inferior. Nigerian skincare brands have stepped up. Formulations are improving, packaging is sleeker, and ingredients are increasingly targeted to African skin concerns like hyperpigmentation and oil control. Brands
4. Don’t skip sunscreen. Ever. This one’s nonnegotiable. Sun damage is a major culprit behind hyperpigmentation, premature ageing, and uneven texture. You don’t need to break the bank – just find a sunscreen that works for you and use it daily. Not when you’re going to the beach. Not only when you remember. Every. Single. Day.
Let’s talk money.
A good Nigerian-made cleanser can cost anywhere between N6,000 to N10,000. Moisturisers? N8,000 to N15,000, depending on the brand and ingredient list.
Sunscreen – if you can find one that actually suits darker skin tones without turning you grey – is often N10,000 or more. That’s already close to N35,000 for a basic routine, and that’s before you even think about targeted serums or exfoliants.
SO, HOW DO YOU BALANCE BEAUTY WITH BUDGET?
1. Spend smart, not more. You don’t need seven different serums. One good multitasking
like Arami Essentials, Skin Science Africa and Omari Skin are doing the work – and doing it well. Don’t sleep on them just because they don’t come with a French label or Sephora endorsement.
5. Stop being a product hoarder. Buying five moisturisers at once doesn’t make you a skincare enthusiast — it makes you a confused customer. Use what you have before restocking. Half-used products don’t count as selfcare; they count as clutter. Empty bottles should be the goal, not crowded shelves.
3. Know your skin type – and stay in your lane. The worst skincare habit? Buying products just because they’re trending. Oily skin doesn’t need the same things as dry or sensitive skin. Acneprone skin should not be treated like mature skin. Understanding your skin’s actual needs will save you from unnecessary purchases – and unnecessary breakouts. You don’t need a face full of actives. Sometimes, all your skin is asking for is a bit of moisture and peace.
YOU ARE WHAT YOU PLAY: YOUR MUSIC PERSONALITY
By Aliyah Olowolayemo
Style isn’t always something you wear; it’s also something you are. Sometimes, it’s something you play. Your rhythm. Your volume. The kind of sound that makes you feel most like yourself. From morning devotion to Friday night turn-ups: our playlists have become deeply personal expressions of who we are. Like our wardrobes, our playlists are carefully layered with meaning. And in a country as sonically diverse as Nigeria, those meanings extend across several genres, from Afro-jazz to Fuji, Juju, and Afrobeat. Each genre has a mood, and behind that mood, a type of person.
Gospel & Church Hip-Hop
You don’t separate vibes from virtue. You love a worship banger and a dancing chorus all in one set. You start your day with Limoblaze and end it with TY Bello. Your playlist is your sanctuary. Tope Alabi, Mercy Chinwo, Nathaniel Bassey, Limoblaze; you turn to them for clarity and calm. You hold your values close, and your music pulls you back to centre. Your music personality is grounded in faith and fuelled by gratitude. You say “God abeg” just as much as “Amen.” Your group chat knows you’ll always send them one uplifting song per week… without being asked.
Afro-Jazz
The romantic and the idealist. You’re drawn to texture, musically and emotionally. You find beauty in restraint, and your style is clean but expressive. Asa and Brymo maintain permanent spots on your playlist. You can recite every song on any Fela album, and Lagbaja is your spirit animal. You like your music to breathe and your life to feel intentional. If a song doesn’t stir something, it doesn’t stay. You’re the type who curates Sunday afternoons and throws dinner parties with a five-song rule. You’re not loud, just unequivocally you!
Afropop & Altè
You’re the playlist plug, the Instagram story curator, the person who’s always “putting people on” that new guy that no one has ever heard of. Your playlist is deeply rooted in “Gen Z” artists. Your typical crowd is Tems, Arya Starr and Fireboy. You’re expressive, social and plugged into every moment.
Then, there are the genre-hoppers
Those whose tastes span are ever cycling; they often change based on their whim or mood. From Tems to Tope Alabi, from Johnny Drille to Terry Apala, from Fela to Naira Marley. These people defy categories. Their style is fluid, layered with influences, and completely unpredictable - in the best way. They see music as an atmosphere. Their playlists are fluid and always evolving.
Street Pop
You always rep hustle culture. You feel life in its rawest form, and your music reflects it. Mohbad, Bella Shmurda, Teni, and Naira Marley soundtrack your wins and your war stories. You don’t romanticise struggle, but you own every inch of your reality. You bring energy to every room, even when the room doesn’t ask. Your goal is enjoyment (you somehow understand proverbs) and carrying real stories in your playlists. There’s honesty in the beats you love: they aren’t always polished, but definitely always alive.
Afrobeat
You are the life of the party. You can’t stay still if the beat is good. You can recite Davido’s entire catalogue in your sleep, and you have a playlist titled “Outside Energy.” Adekunle Gold, Burna Boy, BNXN, and Rema soundtrack your life. Your playlists are upbeat and crowd-friendly. You love your friends loudly, spend freely (even when you shouldn’t), and believe life is too short not to dance. You probably have at least one photo on your feed with sunglasses indoors. You love love. You dress with colour. You believe music should lift moods, and you often do too.
Juju, Fuji & Highlife
You’re a walking culture archive. A Wasiu Ayinde and Ebenezer Obey loyalist; you know their lyrics and the life stories behind them. You prefer parties that start with talking drums and end with owambe classics. You show up late to the party but bring the loudest presence. Sunny Ade brings you peace, and you still believe in dancing with two hands raised, not a phone in the air. You love gold jewellery, believe Amala is self-care, and you judge DJs who don’t know how to blend old-school with now. You’re everyone’s big cousin, even when you’re the youngest.
THE SOFT POWER OF PRETTY: HOW BEAUTY BECAME A STRATEGY
There was a time when beauty was considered a gift — a delightful accident of good genes. That’s no longer the case. Beauty today is studied, refined, and executed with precision. It’s no longer just about being born attractive; it’s about knowing how to make it work for you.
Across cities like Lagos and Abuja, looking good has quietly evolved into a legitimate life plan. The fine girl era isn’t just about aesthetics, it’s about strategy. A certain kind of girl knows that beauty is social leverage, and she uses it like currency. She builds it like a brand. She invests in it like an asset. Her selfies are timed. Her angles are understood. Her wardrobe, curated. She knows that her glow isn’t just lighting, it’s equity. She’s not just posting pictures; she’s managing perception. And she’s doing it with the kind of intentionality usually reserved for political campaigns and product launches.
those who package themselves well. But you also see it in real life at brunches, launch parties, offices, and airports. Pretty is no longer just pretty. It’s persuasive. And for many women, it’s practical. Access and opportunity are often blocked by opaque systems and relentless gatekeeping, making beauty feel like one of the few things you can actually control. If you can’t change the game, you might as well look good playing it.
But that control comes with pressure. The performance never ends. Once you realise people treat you better when you look a certain way, it becomes hard to show up as anything less. You become your own PR. There’s no room for bloated days, hormonal breakouts, or mental exhaustion. The expectation to be flawless — always — creeps in quietly and lingers loudly.
The financial commitment is another conversation entirely. Maintaining a “fine girl” image comes at a real cost. Beyond hair and nails, there are skincare,
This isn’t performative fluff. It’s an entire sub-economy. Medical spas, aesthetic clinics, facialists, body contouring, laser treatments, permanent makeup, fashion stylists on speed dial — the beauty business is thriving, largely funded by young women who understand that beauty isn’t ornamental, it’s functional. It gets them seen. And being seen opens doors that competence alone might not. A well-presented image buys access to jobs, partnerships, social circles, events, and visibility. Sometimes, it’s subtle. Other times, it’s blatant. A polished look makes you more “clientfacing,” more “brand friendly,” more “selectable.” It smooths over qualifications that might be lacking. It draws attention before you even speak. There’s a level of calculation here that’s hard to ignore. You see it on social media, where a perfectly curated feed is a soft launch into influencer culture, where collaborations and sponsored posts reward
beauty. It also reinforces a certain kind of sameness. Scroll through Instagram and you’ll start to notice it: the same body types, the same nose bridges, the same poses, skin tones, and captions. The image of the ideal has become uniform. And when everyone is trying to look like the same version of perfect, it slowly erases individuality. There’s also the quiet judgment of women who choose not to play the game, the ones who don’t filter their faces, can’t afford the maintenance, or simply don’t want to build their identity around aesthetics. They’re often dismissed as unserious, unpolished, or simply invisible. There’s a hierarchy, and it’s increasingly image-driven. For some other women, beauty has become a kind of power play. They understand the system and use it to build wealth, influence, and independence. They’re not waiting to be discovered; they’re packaging themselves to be unmissable. There’s something bold about taking control of how the world sees you and flipping that gaze into advantage.
BEYOND THE BEAT: HOW TO TREAT YOUR SKIN AFTER THE GLAM
gym memberships, surgical procedures, high-end fashion, and the endless pursuit of upgrades. The aesthetic standard is high, and the price of entry keeps climbing. Which means the system doesn’t just reward beauty, it rewards funded
But it’s worth asking if beauty is now the quickest path to visibility, what does that say about the society behind it? Why have we made appearance the metric that counts? Why is it easier to rise on the strength of your face than on the strength of your mind? And what happens when the beauty fades or is no longer enough? The issue isn’t that beauty is being used strategically. The issue is that it often feels like the only strategy that works or at least, the most immediate one. We respect hustle in all its forms, but we rarely question why the hustle looks the same. Maybe the real shift would come from expanding the definition of value so that beauty can be one asset among many, not the defining one. Maybe the conversation should be less about critiquing women who lean into aesthetics, and more about creating spaces where other kinds of brilliance can shine just as brightly. Because yes, beauty can open doors. But what happens after the door opens? That’s the question more women are starting to ask. And perhaps the next evolution of this beauty economy is not just how you look — but how you last.
The makeup was flawless. The gele was aggressive. The dancing? Unmatched. But now it’s Sunday night (or worse, Monday morning), and your skin is begging for mercy. Between layers of foundation, sweat from dancing to “Unavailable,” fried small chops, and not enough water, owambe weekends can leave your skin looking as tired as you feel. But don’t panic your glow is not gone, it’s just sleeping. Looking good on Saturday is fun. Looking fresh on Monday is elite. With a little care and intentionality, you can bring your skin back to life and be ready for the next invite (because we all know another owambe is loading). Here’s how to bounce back like the soft-life queen you are:
By Funke Babs-Kufeji
Double Cleanse Like a Pro
All that makeup? It’s not leaving with just one wash. Start with an oil-based cleanser or micellar water to dissolve foundation, glue, and glitter, then follow with a gentle foaming cleanser. No scrubbing this isn’t a punishment. Be sure to use lukewarm water.
Exfoliate Gently
Give your pores a fresh start by removing dead skin cells. Use a mild exfoliant — chemical or physical, whichever works for your skin but don’t overdo it. You’re trying to glow, not peel like yam. Skip the apricot scrubs. This is not 2013.
Rehydrate & Replenish
After all that dancing, your skin is dehydrated and possibly salty from all the suya. Layer on hydration: toner, hyaluronic acid serum, and a calming moisturiser. Your skin needs water more than it needs vibes right now. You can add a sheet mask for drama and moisture.
Sleep Is Skincare Too
The best thing you can do for your face after a party weekend is rest. Give your skin time to repair overnight. Switch to a silk pillowcase if you’re fancy (or just wrap your scarf properly), and let your skin recover in peace. Glow comes to those who sleep.
Detox from the Inside Too
Drink water. A lot of it. Your body is crying from the puffpuff, wine, and shouting “who dey breeet?” until 2 a.m.
Throw in some green tea, fruits, and meals that don’t come in takeaway foil. Your skin reflects your lifestyle and your Jollof choices.
Don’t Skip SPF Just Because You’re Indoors Even post-party, UV rays don’t care that you’re tired. Always finish your recovery
