There’s something oddly soothing about standing in front of your closet on a quiet morning, fingers brushing past fabrics—silk, cotton, lace—your mind running through the possibilities of who you want to be today. Some days, you’re that boss in a well-tailored blazer and sky-high pumps. Other days, you just want your softest Ankara kaftan and a headwrap that makes you feel like royalty, even if you’re just going to sit in Lagos traffic for two hours. But what if getting dressed wasn’t just about looking good? What if it was part of your healing?
Welcome to Closet Therapy—not a session with your psychologist (though that’s still very valid), but a daily ritual where your wardrobe becomes a quiet form of self-expression, self-soothing, and, yes, even self-reclamation.
Let’s be real—living in Nigeria can be downright exhausting. Between fluctuating fuel prices, wahala at work, and the general unpredictability of NEPA, it’s easy to feel like you’ve lost control. But the one thing you can always decide for yourself—no matter how small—is what you wear. And that decision can be more powerful than it seems.
“On days when everything feels chaotic, I just throw on my favourite red lipstick and my green palazzo trousers,” says Titi, a 34-year-old HR manager in Abuja. “It’s not even about anyone seeing me. It’s for me. The colours lift my mood, and I feel like I’m putting on armour for the day.”
That right there is the essence of closet therapy—dressing as a way of reclaiming your mood, your energy, and your sense of self. Whether it’s a crisp white shirt that makes you feel put-together or a loud print dress that reminds you that you’re allowed to take up space, clothes can have a deeper psychological impact than we often give them credit for.
Think back to a time when you were heartbroken. Did you reach for oversized clothes to hide? Or maybe you put on your best outfit, lined your eyes, and walked out the door just to remind yourself that you were still in control of your life. Clothes often reflect our internal state—but they can also shape it. Like a mirror, but one you get to design.
“I used to feel guilty for spending time thinking about my outfit,” says Nkem, a Lagos-based photographer. “But I’ve realised that styling myself each morning is part of my mental reset. It gives me clarity. It’s meditative.”
And she’s not alone. Research has shown that what we wear can impact everything from our posture to our confidence levels. Ever heard of ‘enclothed cognition’? It’s a fancy psychological term that basically means your brain responds to the symbolic meaning of your clothes. That’s why you suddenly feel smarter in a blazer or more relaxed in a hoodie. It’s science—and style.
Now, for Nigerian women especially, dressing well has always been more than just fashion. It’s identity. It’s culture. It’s resistance. From the gele that sits like a crown on your head to the tailored aso-oke that hugs your curves just right, clothing can be deeply affirming.
But this isn’t just about aesthetics or trends. Closet therapy isn’t about wearing designer labels (though if you can swing a Lisa Folawiyo piece, please do so boldly). It’s about dressing with intention. Wearing that bright yellow blouse not because it’s in season but because it reminds you of joy. Choosing the flowing adire dress because it makes you feel soft and feminine, even after a hard week.
It’s also about editing your wardrobe to reflect who you are now. So many of us are holding onto clothes from an old life—jeans that no longer fit, heels that hurt too much, corporate wear from a job we left two years ago. Letting go of those pieces can feel like letting go of baggage. Healing starts there, too.
“I had this dress I wore during my NYSC camp that I kept for years,” says Doyin, a 40-year-old entrepreneur. “It had no shape left, but I couldn’t throw it out. Then, one day, I just did. It felt like I was finally letting go of the pressure to hold onto the past.”
Closet therapy can also mean dressing up just because. Not every outfit needs an occasion. You don’t need to be heading to a party to wear your nice shoes or style your hair beautifully. Sometimes, the simple act of putting yourself together when no one is watching is the most radical form of self-love.
And on the days when getting dressed feels too hard—because grief, depression, or burnout have you in their grip—start small. Pick one item that makes you feel okay. That worn T-shirt you love. That pair of earrings that always gets compliments. One item. One step forward.
Because healing isn’t linear, and sometimes, it comes quietly, like zipping up a dress and standing a little taller in front of your mirror.
