After being shortlisted for the Young Designer Platform at the Lagos Fashion Week in 2018, he presented a collection of clothes for his brand, Emmy Kasbit, made with Akwete, a hand-woven fabric popular in South Eastern Nigeria. Now he is at the forefront of sustainability, showing his collections at shows like Paris Fashion Week. Fans of his work include Toke Makinwa, Angela Merkel and Ebuka Obi-Uchendu.

In this week’s edition of #MadeinNigeria, he opens up about how far he has come on his journey, the cost of making fashion in Nigeria, and his ambitious plans for the future.

What was your earliest experience with fashion?

It goes back to when I lived with my parents in the East. I was born in Abia, but after secondary school, I lived in Calabar until I moved to Lagos in 2015.

When I got back from school, I’ll attempt to make my own clothes. Whether I’m going to see my mother at her shop or wherever I try to make my clothes look a particular way. Then when I got into university, I wanted to make more money for myself and what I could think of was transforming denim jackets by adding studs to them and selling them to other students. People were keying into what I was selling. It was a means to go through school without asking too much from my parents. 

Why did you move to Lagos?

I moved to Lagos because I wanted to pursue fashion. As we all know, Lagos is the centre of fashion in Nigeria and Africa. People kept telling me to go to Lagos and take this fashion thing seriously.

But when I came to Lagos, I had to do more research to widen my knowledge. So, I ended up working with some fashion houses in Lagos and interning with some designers. I had started Emmy Kasbit on the low, but it wasn’t official until I felt ready.

What was moving to Lagos like?

I came to Lagos for the very first Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards (AMVCA) because I was dressing a friend, Uti Nwachukwu. He wore the outfit, and people really liked what I had made for him. 

That was also when I met Ezinne Chinkata, the founder of Zinkata, who became a retail partner for Emmy Kasbit. She saw me at the awards, and she liked what I wore, and I told her I made it. I also took her to Uti and showed her what I had made for him. 

She invited me to her store the next day, and that was the beginning of my career in Lagos. I went back to Calabar and started making plans to move to Lagos. In 2015, I moved fully to Lagos.

How did you meet Uti?

At the time, Uti was the host of 53 Extra on Africa Magic, and they had come to Calabar for the Africa International Film Festival (AFRIFF). He needed a designer and put out the word, and someone recommended me. I dressed him for that event, and he advised me to try the Lagos market.

How were you able to break through in Lagos?

It was very tough trying to break into Lagos, a market that even then was saturated and currently is still saturated. I knew only a few people in the Lagos fashion scene, and it was an ecosystem that demanded a lot of hard work, consistency and networking. I tried doing that as much as I could in those days. I went to many events and made notes. I did a lot of research and asked a lot of questions. People who I saw and loved their style I went to check their Instagram. It was always about enlightening myself more.

What was your big break?

Everything started when I won the Fashion Focus Prize at Lagos Fashion Week prize in 2017. I had enrolled for the Young Designer Platform initially, but I didn’t get in, and that threw me off balance. I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough, and I didn’t want to apply again. But a friend encouraged me to, and I found success the second time.

I went through all the stages and was shortlisted for the top five. We were going to show a collection to win the prize. For me, it was a do-or-die affair because I really needed that big moment. I felt that it would step up my game on the Lagos scene. I won, and it registered my name with the press. I landed my first BellaNaija feature.

What was building a fashion business like?

Branding took a lot of time and hard work. I have a business partner now who focuses solely on the business of Emmy Kasbit while I focus on creating.  He is a friend of mind and joined in 2020. Initially, Emmy Kasbit was just a fashion label that made clothes. A lot of mentorships from people already in the industry helped me rethink branding. I knew that fashion was a business, and I had to survive off it and wanted to. Now, we have structure. Even when I’m not in Lagos, the business doesn’t suffer.

Who was the first person you hired?

The oldest tailor on the team. This was after winning the prize. I set up a little production space in my living room. I got his contact from an agent who links designers with tailors, and I told him the skills I needed, and he recommended him. I also had to train him and teach him my style and how I wanted the clothes to appear.

In the early days of building, you were still dropping collections. How did you keep the business afloat?

I believe in consistency. Because I knew I wanted to be here for a long time, even if the business wasn’t making a lot of money, I still did collections. It keeps your name afloat. I don’t think we have missed any season. I knew I had to be consistent. Even when we’re stuck with work, we still find time. We always do two collections yearly.

When did you start to experiment with Akwete?

I never worked with Akwete until my debut season at Lagos Fashion Week, S/S17. I was looking for what would set me apart from the other competitors in the top five. I had a mentor who told me I needed to do something people had not seen before. I went online and researched textiles, and I found a community of Akwete weavers in Abia.

I spoke to one of them, and she keyed into my vision. We designed the production, and she singlehandedly made all the fabrics we used in that collection. It was so well received, but I also knew I owed it to these women to continue this craft. We have to take it to the global market.

What has working with Akwete, a handmade fabric, been like?

It’s been challenging because sustainability isn’t cheap, and working with Akwete also demands so much patience because it’s hard-woven. A lot of time and manpower is involved. It is done by hand, and the women can break down anytime. But what I want to do is ensure that this craft doesn’t go out of style and that the next generation can continue it.

Do you hire the women who weave the fabric for Emmy Kasbit, or are they contractors?

The women are part of the Emmy Kasbit Initiative, which we started in 2022. The whole point of the initiative is to cater for these communities, especially the Akwete communities. We hire the women, and they produce per season.

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How do you maintain quality control?

We have people in charge of quality control. Before a piece leaves, it must have gone through three stages of quality control. We have a quality control manager and a product manager who check the pieces. It’s about letting people get value for their money. Everything must be in place.

What has been your experience working with Gen Z?

I think working with Nigerians generally requires a lot of patience. But I personally like to see the good in people. When you hire a young Nigerian, they might make mistakes, but with time, they get better. I believe that there are processes to things, and over time people evolve to where you want them to be. I have never had an issue with a person just quitting abruptly. I also don’t just hire. I always ask the team for their feedback before we hire, and we collectively agree on who we bring in.

When did Emmy Kasbit begin to go international?

In 2021, Vogue conducted a scouting in Africa in partnership with the African Fashion Foundation, and I was selected. I was one of two winners, and a perk of winning was presenting a fashion film at Milan Fashion Week. After that, we started attending fashion shows. We did not do any shows in Milan, but we’ve done a couple at Paris Fashion Week.

What have you noticed is different from the fashion shows in the West and the ones we do in Nigeria

I think it’s a different audience. Nigeria is where Emmy Kasbit is rooted, so showing here is like showing at home. But in Paris, you’re showing to strangers who might not have seen or heard of you before. You might even send an invite to the press, and they might not come because they don’t know you. But good work speaks for itself, and sometimes they check the work online and are fascinated. 

One thing the European fashion scene loves is the good craftsmanship that comes with African fashion. In Paris, when African designers show, people always want to see more. They are used to the silhouettes they see in the West, and African designers are bringing something fresh, and they are eager to see it and discover new talent.

Do you think Emmy Kasbit would have succeeded internationally if you hadn’t experimented with Akwete?

I think so, but Emmy Kasbit’s DNA is Akwete. Perhaps it would have been harder to do something else that would have captivated the audience.

A lot of designers are experimenting with Akwete and Aso-Oke. Do you think this is a trend?

I’ll say that sustainability is at the forefront of fashion right now, and African fashion relies heavily on traditional practices, including tie-dye and hand-weaving. These are the things that make today’s fashion.

We’ve had situations where Western designers have hijacked African stories and not told them the right way. I think that our duty as African designers is to own these stories and tell them better. We do this by reaching into old traditions and presenting them to the world. I think it’s here to stay and not a phase.

Are Nigerian designers becoming too expensive?

What I will say is that the Nigerian economy is a bit shifted at the moment. 

So much so that pieces can now start at ₦1.5 million?

To each brand their business model. If a brand offers a garment for that price, then you need to consider the steps the designer went through to make the garment. They must have done their markups. We don’t just sell things at any price. When you look at a garment, you should be able to tell why it is expensive. But really, the state of the economy is primarily responsible. We’ve had times when we reviewed prices at Emmy Kasbit within three days. The economy is affecting all industries.

What do you think of influencer gifting?

We hardly do influencer gifting. Maybe all year, we might just do influencer gifting once. If we do, it might just be for five customers who have been supporters of the brand all year. It’s also a way to promote that collection, so it’s a win-win situation.

What advice will you give to a young designer on attaining profitability?

Know your numbers and target client. Knowing your target client allows you to understand how much your customers can spend. And start from a minimum price. When you build the clientele, you can take up the prices. Also, don’t always expect to make millions from a limited capsule. Sometimes you might run into losses.

Where do you see yourself and Emmy Kasbit in five years?

I still want to be a designer, but we’d have opened multiple stores worldwide, and I’ll be shuffling my stores. I see the brand with multiple retail partners worldwide. I still see us experimenting with Akwete worldwide. I see myself gracing the covers of many magazines.

ALSO READ: How Yomi Adegoke Built Her Lucrative Writing Career

Her 2023 book, The List interrogates the excesses of the #MeToo movement at the peak of the anonymised shitty men list. It became an instant bestseller and is being developed into a TV series by HBO Max, the BBC and A24. She’s an executive producer, naturally.

In this week’s edition of #MadeinNigeria, she opens up on starting a magazine at 20, having a lot to say about #MeToo, and how the left is losing its way.

When did you realise you wanted to be a writer?

It took me a long time. I studied law at university. It wasn’t the cliche of my parent pushing me into law, but I definitely did grow up with the awareness that creative pursuit doesn’t necessarily lead to financial stability, and that was my priority. I’m Nigerian, after all. I wanted something that was going to make sense for my future.

Almost immediately after arriving at university, I knew I wasn’t a lawyer and that liking to argue doesn’t mean you’re a lawyer. Painting and writing were the way I always expressed myself but I saw writing more like a hobby. So I started a blog. It had a couple of readers and was about pop culture. It was actually a guy (who is actually in the acknowledgement of my book, The List) who first told me I could make money writing. He used to read my blog, and he said to me, “Do you realise you can get paid to write this? This is pop culture journalism.” I had not even thought of it. It was a hobby. 

The idea of being paid to do something that you enjoy felt kind of foreign to me. I’ve always had this idea that you must toil for your money, so I realised this late.

So how did you get your first writing job?

I took a year out of university. During that year, only God could tell you how many applications I filled out. It has to be in triple digits. I applied for every single internship at every single magazine. I remember applying for a casino magazine, a gardening magazine. But no one was taking me. This was 2012, and England had so many initiatives and charities that would encourage creativity among young people. One was called O2 Think Big and they used to give a grant. It wasn’t a lot of money, maybe like £500, that you’ll use for a creative project. They was also Vinspired, and they gave £300. I took those grants. If I could not get work experience, I was going to make work experience.

So, something that I will never think to do now, I said to myself, “I was going to start my own magazine because I’m applying to all these magazines and they are not hiring me.” You know the vicious cycle: You need experience to get experience. So I was like, “I’m just going to create something and show that as my work experience.”

I launched a magazine called Birthday Magazine, aimed at young black women and girls. I used to distribute it at the hair shops in my area. I lived in an area called Croydon in London and it is a very black area. Back in 2012, the media wasn’t really catering to black women the way it is now. You didn’t have articles about how to look after natural hair in mainstream publications.

I did that for a year, and I used that to say that this is the evidence that I can write.

Why do you think the industry didn’t see your talents prior to starting the magazine?

In the UK at that time, the percentage of black female journalists under the age of 30, even now, is remarkably low, especially if you’re not privately educated, which I’m not. So back then, in 2012, trying to knock on this door, this little scrappy girl who wasn’t white and wasn’t necessarily middle class in the British context, was hard. The things I wanted to write about were the things that I wasn’t seeing in the media generally.

It’s crazy to think of a time when Afrobeats was a niche genre of music. When I was growing up, many white people didn’t listen to Afrobeats and Grime music, and I wanted to write about the music I liked: Grime music, Afrobeats. I wanted to review them, and there just wasn’t appetite for it. I used to write about racism, sexism. I wrote about things that felt community-specific, and they were like, “This matters to you and people like you, but most of our readers aren’t like you”. The pitches I’d send people, they just didn’t get it.

What was the experience building Birthday magazine?

It was so much fun.

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I thought you were going to say it was so hard.

It was hard, but I think I didn’t even notice it so much. I think I was 20 or 21. You just have this delusion and energy when you’re young that you’re able to do things. It was hard, but the stakes felt so low. If the magazine turns out rubbish, they won’t tell me to return the money, you know. I wish there were more initiatives like that. A lot of these charities have been shut down under our conservative government. I was the editor. I was in charge of everything, finding contributors. I look back now and I’m like, who sent me? I was doing photoshoots. We had a website. It was just me on my own working on my laptop.

How do you balance being passionate about work and knowing it is a capitalist system?

I’m freelance now but it’s something that I thought about a lot when I was in full-time employment. When I started my career, we were moving into how many views and shares something gets. The value of the piece is tied to how many views it gets and not if they engaged with it, and often when people share the article, it doesn’t mean they’re engaging with it. This was the rise of the thing that people called “churnalism.” They are basically churning out stories that they think will go viral.

A lot of journalists measure the value of what they write by how viral it goes, and it’s not our fault because if we are not able to get those numbers, the platform could shut down. I struggled because there were so many pieces that were important to me, but I wasn’t sure if people were interested in them. I pitched a story about infant and maternal morbidity rates, but it was difficult to get the piece off the ground.  Now, thankfully it’s a conversation we’ve started having.

What is also different now is that I am still a journalist, but my primary source of income is from books. This means that when I’m writing about something, it’s a topic I’m really passionate about. That’s not a luxury most journalists have.

What does it feel like to have that luxury?

I think it feels creatively freeing. I consider myself a privileged person because I used to write for free and have always written for free. To be able to monetise it to a small degree is great, but to be able to monetise it to the extent that it has changed my life is incredible. I feel so lucky that I never feel like I have to do anything I don’t want to.

Why did you decide to write The List?

I wrote it during lockdown. I didn’t think it was going to be lucrative or anything. Everybody was making sourdough bread, and I was like “That’s not me”. Much to my parents’ disappointment, I’m not be able to cook. I didn’t think it was going to be a bestseller or anything. I had hoped it would. But the reason I was able to take that risk was because I had written other books that had been successful. I was trying to write something that meant something to me, and by virtue of that, I think it did very well. I write what feels authentic to me, which many people don’t have the luxury of doing.

The book is also about the #MeToo movement and mob culture. Why is that?

I had a lot to say. In late 2017, I came across many allegations that were disseminated via viral lists. There was a really famous one in America called “The Shitty Media Men List,” which was looking at male journalists that have been abusive. When I saw the list, I was like, “This is great. There is no smoke without fire.” Many women have been denied justice for so long. Men have been able to abuse with impunity. It’s great to see the internet be a means to providing justice. All kinds of things have become social justice causes online, like #BlackLivesMatter.

I grew up watching TV shows like Catfish, where someone is talking to someone they think is someone online, only for it to be revealed it’s someone else. I grew up with my parents always saying, “Be careful of who you speak to on MSN Messenger because you might think you are also talking to a teenage girl unknown to you it’s a man halfway across the world trying to groom you.” Also, as journalists, we’re in the middle of a fake news crisis. Now, we’ve even got AI, which is exacerbating the crisis.

As much as I understood the aims of these lists, as a journalist, I had to question their ethics. Two things can be true at once. It can be true that abusive men need to be held accountable. Women are being failed by the system; that’s either the police, the legal system or just HR at work. But it can also be true that lists of this kind, being anonymous, but also anyone online having access to them means they are very susceptible to being used for nefarious purposes, being undermined which now undermines a whole movement. People lie online.

Nuance is my thing. I’m a fence-sitter, so I was like, “Let me work out my thoughts in writing.” I was going to write a long piece weighing the pros and cons of the ethics of this, but everyone was on lockdown, and I was like, “I could just write a novel.”

There have been arguments about how critiquing the #MeToo movement or the ethics of those lists makes one a right-wing head. What do you say to that?

I think it’s an intellectually dishonest argument. Acknowledging that more than one thing can be true is just part of being a critical thinker. To me, acknowledging that women are very rarely given justice in the legal system does not negate the fact that anonymised lists online that have not been checked are susceptible to being abused. How can you acknowledge that catfishing happens, that we have a fake news crisis and say it’s impossible?

This type of approach to justice is flawed. What I have seen repeatedly happen is that even though 99% of the allegations on the list are credible, if one person was mistakenly put there or you don’t have the context, everybody latches onto that story and says, “Look at this one person.” That pulls our movement backwards.

What is happening is that right-wing people are owning the conversation on cancel culture that should be happening on the left. Rather than weaponising my book, what people are weaponising is the silence of the left, our complicity often in not having real conversations about cancel culture and free speech.

We’ve pretended that everybody who has been cancelled deserves it, which simply isn’t true. There are multiple conversations where someone can say someone has taken advantage of our well-meaning movement. But because we are silent, right-wing people come in and say well, according to the left, there is no such thing as cancel culture. And if you are a person who thinks these lists are flawed, then you need to be having these conversations with us on the right. You then play into the hands of extremists.

There is nothing you can do to stop me from going to Twitter, making a burner account and accusing you of whatever I like. The only thing that is stopping us is sanity. Not everybody is sane online. People will take advantage of anonymity online to lie.

Will you ever write for the website, Unherd?

I personally don’t think that I will need to write for a platform like that. I think that often, a lot of the arguments on the website come from a political viewpoint that doesn’t align with my own. I’m not mad at people who choose to write for people with different views from their own. But I think that my voice is better placed somewhere like the Guardian. 

They are preaching to the converted. Many contributors seem to be right-leaning. And they are having conversations often about cancel culture. I might have arrived at a similar conclusion, but I didn’t reach it in the same way. 

But it also scares me when people say if you believe this thing as well, then you must share this political idealogy. There are some ideas that are like that. But we’re getting to a place where if someone that is right-wing said the sky is blue, acknowledging it makes you right-wing. That’s not clever. For me, there are some things that are absolutely true. One of them is that anonymised lists being disseminated with certain allegations are subject to potential abuse, and I don’t think that is a controversial issue. 

Free speech is a pillar of left-thinking idealogy. But we now allowed the right to come in and commandeer conversations around free speech. Why is Chimamanda speaking about free speech, and she’s being posited as right-wing because she’s speaking about free speech?

With Chioma Nnadi leading Vogue and Kemi Badenoch leading the Tories, Nigerians have risen atop UK legacy institutions. Why do you think this is happening now?

I think it has always been happening. I think Kemi Badenoch has made it more obvious, but Naija no dey carry last. The Nigerian spirit is inherently ambitious. My parents used to say to me if you want to write, you’re gonna be the best writer. If I were really about money, I wouldn’t be a writer. But I think it’s very Nigerian of me to have been able to turn it into a lucrative thing. When you are in the UK, there is that phrase that as a black woman, you’ll work thrice as hard, but my parents never said that to me. They’ve always said you will thrive because of your identity, not in spite of it. I think Kemi Badenoch is getting way too much credit because we’ve been doing it.

Where do you see yourself in five years?

I just finished writing the pilot for my TV show, so my show will be out. My life will be quite different. I’m really excited about it. It will bring a new audience. I’m writing my next book; I hope it will be out. I’m excited about resting and allowing my work to breathe and speak for itself. I’m really excited because I’m just one girl in Croydon talking.

ALSO READ: How Tayo Okoya Built His Nigerian Streetwear Brand WBFDubai

While studying Animation, Interactive Technology, Video Graphics, and Special Effects at the SAE Institute Dubai, the idea came to him again, and he launched WBFDubai because he was based in Dubai then. These days his brand has cultivated a cult following that includes Davido, DJ Obi and the rapper Ajebutter22.

In this week’s Made in Nigeria, he discusses building a community, dressing Liverpool FC star player Mohamed Salah, and how we can support small creative businesses.

How did you start WBFDubai?

I conceptualised this brand when I was in secondary school. I was in JSS3, and I used to draw comics and everything during my prep time. However, during one prep time, I decided to draw clothes and came up with the name Black Fantasy. Since then I have been pushing it. I tried to start it in Nigeria before going to Dubai for university, but I didn’t have the support I needed, and the environment wasn’t encouraging. People will laugh at your ambitions and dreams, especially when they are seen as being too big.

When I finished school in Dubai, I had grown the brand enough to register the business. The reason it’s called the WBFDubai is because I registered it in Dubai. I have been doing this business in Dubai for four years. It was recognised back home in Nigeria from Dubai, and people started demanding the products at home.

How did you start your Nigerian penetration? 

We were retailing at Garmspot, Alara, and Alté 51. This year, we opened our first flagship store. We did the soft launch in October, but we’re doing the flagship launch in December. It’s a community store, and eight artists came together to design and make the space. All we’re trying to do is represent pop culture. Black Fantasy is about creative freedom and expression. We are black, and we deserve a fantasy.

What has running your business primarily from Nigeria been like?

It’s been hectic in Nigeria. For any business in Nigeria to thrive, the owner needs to be available and represent the business. You need to pay attention to details and show up. The owners of the business need to show up. That is the mistake that most business owners are making today. The businesses that are not flourishing aren’t flourishing because the owners are not showing up. 

You have to be there and intentional. You have to pay attention to details as small as the smell and ambience of your space. The little details, down to making sure no cobwebs are in the place and the trash is taken out, are very important. For four months, when I was creating the place, I didn’t have a project manager. I did it myself, calling the AC guy. Working with artisans has been a challenge, but we have to be resilient.

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What has been a challenge for you with the Nigerian market?

Getting a community to acknowledge and support your work is a challenge. Some people judge a book by its cover. They think “This person has it good,” but they never know the back story. It’s hard to get the attention of the Nigerian community. They don’t really send you. You have to be doing something out of the box that grabs their attention. With everything you’re building, community is key. You can do whatever you want, but a community must back you. 

What has the manufacturing process been like since you moved back home?

I have been manufacturing in Dubai for the past four to six years. The reason for that was I started the business in Dubai, and the people that I worked with were the best people I could find to make my stuff. My products are mostly silk, polyester and satin. This is because that is the only product I could manipulate. I could print on the whole garment. But I also chose them for creative freedom. They were the best to give me the creative freedom that made us stand out. We have unique items. Most of our designs are two pieces. We are styling people. 

But we’ve collaborated with some made-in-Nigeria brands that we will work with now that we’ve returned home. Our vision is to have flagship stores everywhere globally. We just want to make quality stuff that we’re proud of. We are very intentional about everything, down to our space, to produce global-standard quality.

Why would you say a WBFDubai piece stands out?

Down to the tailoring, colourway, and fit, our products stand out. You can be in a room filled with many people, but you will stand out in a WBF piece because our designs speak for themselves. I studied 3D design in school, and our designs are mostly 3D renders. We do 3D renders and put them on our clothes. It has this hyperrealist look to it that makes it look unique.

Do you design all the pieces?

80% of the designs are made by me. The remaining 20% are collaborations. I may be online and see someone’s work that resonates with me. I tap in, and if they’re willing to collaborate, we work together. One of our best sellers is called Seven Deadly Sins. This is a collaboration between Hubris World and me. He did a 3D of the lady, and I put it on the shirt and designed the “seven deadly sins” at the back of the shirt. It’s our most demanded shirt. Davido wore the shirt.

Many of the designs from WBF have a gothic theme to them. Why is that?

Black Fantasy is the perspective of the world through a black man’s eyes. It’s the way I look at the world as a black man living on earth. I like to touch on topics and express myself through my art. And for my art, rather than have it on the wall, I put it on clothes that people can wear every day. It may come off as gothic, but for us, it’s just art, which can be interpreted differently. There is always a message behind our work. We just want to start conversations with individuals.

High-quality streetwear and skateboard brands like yours seem to have taken off in the country in the past few years. Why is this only just happening?

Many brands came and left. Not everybody stands the test of time. The truth is that our society needs to learn to support each other more: support your friends and support small businesses. The reason I didn’t start in Lagos, as I told you earlier, was because I didn’t have support. About eight years ago, I was in a room with Santi and some other creatives. I had a creative idea, and I wanted to speak to the owner of a space for a popup, but someone just started laughing at me. But Santi pulled me to the corner and said, “Don’t mind them, just keep doing what you do. Not everyone can understand your vision, but I do.”

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15 years ago, I made the first geo Snapchat filters of Lagos. I made Surulere, Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Ikoyi. I made many, and people were like, “Who is this person? Their designs are ugly.” But one person who stood up for me was Bizzle Osikoya, who messaged me and said, “Keep doing what you’re doing, bro.” This is the kind of bullying we get in the creative industry.

So when you say, “Why are people not starting their streetwear brand and building their business?” We are in the jungle. I can’t lie; Lagos is the jungle. They can tear you down so that you end up having a normal nine-to-five or doing a job that you don’t want to do. But the rave is in Nigeria now, and we are the dopest black people, so the world will look at our clothes, fashion, nightlife, and music.

I don’t have any support in my business, not even a bank loan. People may assume that this guy has support from his dad. But the only person who has invested in me is my mom.

How do you attract and work with so many young creatives?

I have doings that have been able to speak for itself. Earlier this year, I had a shoot with Mohamed Salah. How did this happen? My business is registered in Dubai. And I’m just guessing here, but maybe it’s because I was featured in Cosmopolitan magazine’s top 10 black-owned businesses in the UAE. So a company reached out to me and asked if I was interested in a shoot for Visa with Mo Salah. I had a meeting with them, and they asked if I had a UK visa, and that was it. They flew me to Manchester, and we did the shoot. I was happy that my work could bring me here.

People can tell that I am passionate and resilient. I may not have the money to pay them, but they believe in me. When I’m talking to people, they’ll see my name and expect big money. But I feed off energy and vibes, and people who resonate with me can tell that the work will go places.

Where do you see yourself in five years?

I really believe in the power of manifestation. I don’t limit myself. I just make a document with my goals, and I work towards them. And I remain resilient. Like a rolling stone, I’m not going to stop. When I say world domination, I mean world domination. To take over the world, bro.

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His pieces have been worn by everyone from Davido to Stevie Wonder to Maluma. He has since built other businesses, including VVS Lagos, a platform for young designers to showcase their work and collaborate. This year, he designed the Africa International Film Festival (AFRIFF) award.

In this week’s Made in Nigeria, he opens up on how he became a multi-hyphenate creative, making opportunities for himself and reverse-engineering aso-oke.

How did your relationship with fashion begin?

I was just trying out my cousin Ugo Mozie’s clothes when he came to Nigeria, and just seeing that I liked weird high-quality ideas. Before then, it was through my mom because she’d always been stylish as hell, and she’d always dressed us a bit more tailored and structured than others. That gave us a bit of an edge on how we wanted to be seen and what we wanted to wear as we grew up.

Why did you decide to become a designer?

 I started as a stylist, and I always needed pieces. But I wasn’t seeing the pieces that I wanted. It was also a good way to make money. At the time, I saw one of the richest men in the world, the owner of Zara, Amancio Ortega. I was impressed because he was a cool fashion designer who owns a factory. But besides that, I just like to look and feel cool generally.

What was your first styling gig?

Arise Fashion Week in 2012. I worked as a styling assistant with Bolaji Animashaun, and it opened my eyes. I was 17. The people I met there are the people I call my fashion friends today. Months after the show, I went about emailing everybody, all the music companies. At the time, there were only 20 stylists max in the country. I emailed Chocolate City and got to style one of their artists, Nosa. I did it almost for free. Then I did Project Fame. I was assisting the head stylist at the time, and he got fired, and I got the job for a year.

How was transitioning from stylist to designer like?

It was perfect because I’d always kind of just done styling for fun. I’ve always hated it. I did it for the same reason I started my brand, there were no clothes. Styling just made sense at the time because there was no access to stuff to use. In other countries you have all the budget and all the places to get stuff from. The transition for me wasn’t nothing. I was tired. I hate being told what to do. It was a situation where I had to pick from getting called for jobs or just operating, and if I got a job or not, I was still good.

Why were you good? Were you doing other things?

For me, designing is putting your ideas into the world, while styling is bringing another person’s ideas into the earth. For designing, you dictate the terms; for styling, you have to listen. It’s like being a model, which I was for three months when I was younger. But it didn’t make sense to me because I don’t like listening to people that much.

When I said I was good, I meant to just keep creating my own world and wait for people to align. But also, there was no time in my life when I was only doing fashion. It doesn’t make sense. We are too young to stick to one thing. I’ve always done different things.

Once I dabbled in music, I started figuring out how to get into the music business and actually make something from it. It’s about gaining opportunities from it, not just calling yourself a designer, stylist, or makeup artist. But how much are you making? And what is your structure, and how often do people return to you? Do you deliver? That was what was beaming in my head. It’s not just about calling yourself a name. 

It’s just being focused on the vision of making a change in the ecosystem, whether it’s fashion, art, music, or even politics. I’m still in this process every single day, doing things that people don’t expect of us. There is no time you should be doing one thing. It’s just laziness, in my opinion.

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Have you considered a lack of opportunity as a reason someone might be doing one thing?

People think you have to wait for opportunities to come to you, but sometimes you have to set them up. It might not come this year. People are just a bit impatient. Sometimes, something that you put your mind to now might not pay off today. 

With the styling thing, it might sound all fun now, but back then, I wasn’t making any money. I was just managing before I could get to a place where I could build a business. Making money took me about six years. So that’s what I was saying about opportunities. I took the opportunities that I could take just to build these relationships now. People need to dabble with their creative energy. You might never know what you’ll be good at. Don’t just stick to making clothes. That is not the way to be a billionaire. You have to be diverse and solve problems.

How would you say you’ve changed the ecosystem?

I don’t know. But I think I just diversity and show people it’s more than as a fashion designer you have to do just fashion. I think nobody in the industry—at least in Africa—has been able to cross-bridge the entertainment sector like I have—music, art and fashion. I think Virgil did a lot of that. Daily Paper too. It is not just about one expression.

An important contribution we’ve made is pretty much just showing people that it’s possible. Before now, it’s been older guys popping in fashion or people who are wealthy as hell. For me, I came from nowhere and just continued.

When was the last time you created an opportunity for yourself?

I just did that before this call. I push jobs all the time, every single day of my life. My role is pushing jobs. If you’re not doing that for yourself, then you haven’t started working. You don’t own a business yet.

How were you able to build structure in your company?

Building an efficient team that can execute your ideas has been game-changing because if you don’t have a team that can make your ideas happen, it will just be a long process.

How have you maintained your customers and relationships for years when as you said, you hate being told what to do?

My hating being told what to do doesn’t mean I don’t listen. I always listen to every single customer complaint and figure out how to make their experience better. However, I meant I don’t like listening to people because I’ve worked in companies before, and I know how it is when people are not really doing anything, and they just try to instruct you. “Come this time, go there.” I don’t have to answer to no one. If you order a piece from me that is not ready-to-wear I’ll let you know the time and day that it will be ready. It’s us telling you, but it’s you who made the request. We are definitely still growing and trying to understand customer service as much as possible.

Will you describe yourself as a humble person?

Yes, I’ll say I’m humble, but I’ve heard that people beg to think otherwise.

Why do people think otherwise?

Maybe because of how I carry myself. Personally, I don’t like to carry my accomplishments or my ideas and access on my forehead. I’m the most humble person. If I meet a person now, I’ll relate to them on their level. I don’t need to tell them nothing that they don’t need to know. I’m not the kind of person that will say, I have this, that, nah nah nah. If I meet someone and the person is talking about a little project they worked on, I’ll tell them about a little project I worked on.

I come from a place of just knowing myself, so I’ve never had to be someone else or act. I’ve just had to be and step into what my life should look like. You have to just know yourself and what you can offer to the world. At the end of the day, all this is not from you it’s really just from God. I don’t see the reason to not be humble. People tend to confuse knowing yourself and what you’re saying as pride or ego. It can be that, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s just self-awareness. It’s either that or you’re not going to know your worth. So you can pick or choose.

People have called the fashion industry very elitist. In your experience, is that a fair description of the Nigerian fashion ecosystem?

That is the description of the space globally. What is fashion? Fashion is showbiz. Showbiz is elitist. It’s not real. It’s a facade. It is like creating a world that doesn’t exist and telling everyone you can’t be a part of it. If you don’t know that showbiz is elitist, then you’re not ready for the business. It is not about how you navigate. It’s not a problem. It’s the business. 

Fashion is about building worlds that don’t exist. If you don’t want to do that, you can’t compete. It’s a fucking fantasy. What is real is what you make real. It’s the brands that spend time on quality and manage their storytelling efficiently that stand the test of time.

Do you see yourself as the creative director of a fashion house owned by someone else?

A lot of my designer friends don’t really love that. But I see myself in that world for a few reasons. By God’s grace, I’m able to spread my ideas and express them in different languages. If a client hires me for a Wizkid job and a beer job, the expressions will be completely different. If I’m hired to do someone’s brand and translate it into their own language, that will be completely different from what I’ve ever done with my brand. I see myself doing that. At the moment, we produce for other brands as well. Myself and Ugo have our own factory UMIN. Under the factory, we produce my brand and Ugo’s brand.

What makes an IN Official piece stand out?

I think there is something spiritually up with my clothes. I don’t know what it is, but most people connect with it more than they connect with other pieces. Maybe the love that is put into the clothes. Every piece is very intentional. I can make a whole collection, and I won’t wear it because I can’t afford it. But I feel like people who can afford it should buy it. 

We come from a place of love. We have personal relationships with every single aspect of the business. We ensure it’s made with the best spirit—no bad energy. I think also the idea of resilience and just continuing is a quality people like. We’ve been able to express ourselves in different eras while keeping the ethos of our design. 

We express traditional standard silhouettes that everybody expects but in a more global definition. Because I’m making clothes for an older guy doesn’t mean it will be some basic native. We try to make everything look youthful, young and fresh.

What has your experience been like working with young people?

It’s been a bit hard, I’m not gonna lie. I had one walk out on me at a fashion show. They did something that was not their job. I told them it didn’t look good, and we had an argument, and then they just left. They fired themself. It’s crazy to me because I know how many times I’ve been so pissed at so many people, but I just can’t leave. 

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Many Nigerian fashion houses now experiment with aso-oke in their pieces, including IN Official. Do you think this is just a phase?

I don’t think it’s a phase, just on a historical level. It’s original to us, and it’s an opportunity to give back to the community that built that story. I’ve been experimenting with it and trying to reverse-engineer it so that we can come up with new ideas for it that people have not seen before and not just do what everybody else is doing.

But I also think we don’t understand what Aso-oke is. I think it’s that word “Aso-oke.” We need to throw away that word first. The first time I heard it, it was called Aso-ofi. It’s a lot more than just Aso-oke. India has its own version, Turkey, Morocco have theirs, and in the end, it’s Aso-oke. Everyone has had woven fabrics forever. Igbos have Akwete. It’s just the same thing. It’s just fabric. The whole Aso-oke thing makes it look like we are going back to some native time where everybody is using some native fabric. This is no native fabric.

In Morocco, we went to this place where they were weaving so much with wool and fleece. And we’re just talking about Aso-oke when there are a lot more things to be doing with woven fabrics. These fabrics should be reverse-engineered to be doing other things. But we’ve kind of boxed ourselves with that name. The story of starting in Osun is cool. But in 2024, it’s beyond that. We need to know that this is a fabric that can be made into anything. We can even make silk Aso-oke. We can make anything.

We are either leading the charge and making people align with the idea of Aso-oke and making the whole world try to import it like they do Turkey fabrics or not.

Will you call yourself a globalist?

Yes

The pushback for people with globalist ideas, especially around culture expansion, is that the cultural significance could be lost. What do you say to that?

There are people in Nigeria wearing Indian Sari every day, looking like fools, but they can’t make their fabric in different styles. We have to just be smarter about how we move and know that if we don’t fight for things that we believe in, no one will. No one cares, really.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

I don’t know, honestly. I had a near-death scare when I was electrocuted when I was little. So every single day is a blessing. In 10 years, I pray to God I’m still here and able to do things. I know the brand will be in a place where we can create thousands of jobs, inspire businesses and change the ecosystem.

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