When was the last time you saw a minimalist outfit trend at a Nigerian wedding, and it actually caught on? Exactly. Here, subtlety is for weekdays and workwear. However, when it comes to parties, weddings, galas, and naming ceremonies, we don’t subscribe to the philosophy of “less is more.” In fact, we’ve taken “extra” and made it an art form.
Feathers? Bring them. Fringe? Layer it. Crystals? The more the merrier. And don’t forget a slit that threatens to expose your soul and a corset tight enough to hold your secrets. There’s no room for quiet elegance when everyone else is trying to outshine the chandelier.
The moment the invite drops—whether it’s a glossy printed card or a “soft copy” flyer delivered via WhatsApp—the fashion panic begins. What are you wearing? Who’s styling you? Is your tailor available or already booked solid with ten Veekee James knockoffs? It’s not just about being well-dressed. You have to turn heads. A good outfit gets compliments. A great one causes a minor commotion.
And let’s not pretend we don’t love it. The aunties arrive with fans made from peacock feathers and gele so wide they block the buffet. The slay queens come in gowns that glitter like Lagos at night. The bridesmaids? Dressed like they’re about to present an award, not hold bouquets. Even the guests’ guests are dressed to trend.
There’s something in our cultural DNA that leans toward grandeur. Nigerians don’t just celebrate; we perform joy. From our lace fabrics to our double-wrapper moments, from the elaborate aso-ebi to the custom embroidery, we’ve always taken pride in being visually expressive. Even back when photos were printed and stored in albums, your mother made sure you posed in your Sunday best next to the family car—because style mattered.
And these days? Instagram has raised the stakes. Outfit reveals are planned with precision. A soft glam video here. A slow-motion twirl there. You need your makeup artist to catch your transformation in 4K, preferably with soft piano music and sparkly edits. The dress has to move. That’s why fringe is back in full swing—literally. Why feathers are no longer limited to shoulders, but now cascade across trains and bustiers. Static clothes don’t get noticed. Movement is the magic.
Designers know this. That’s why they’re not just making clothes anymore. They’re building silhouettes that challenge gravity and logic.
And it’s not just the women. Men are finally showing up, too. Custom agbadas with velvet panels, embroidered kaftans, coordinated fans, even metallic brocade caps that glint under chandeliers. The grooms and groomsmen are styled like royalty. Some are flying in stylists from Lagos or Abuja just to attend their friend’s wedding in Benin. Nobody wants to look “just okay” anymore—not even the men.
Of course, some might argue that the theatrics are too much. That everyone is beginning to look the same—just varying shades of sparkle and slits. That it’s become less about individuality and more about outdoing the next person. Maybe they’re right. But in this country, nobody wants to be the guest who fades into the background. You might spend weeks planning your outfit, days sitting through fittings and alterations, and hours in makeup—just to be remembered for three seconds. And you know what? It’s worth it. Because in a room full of rich aunties, influencers, sugar babies, stylists, bridesmaids, uncles in agbada, and decorators adjusting lighting for “aesthetics,” the real win is being the person everyone is whispering about—in a good way.
There’s also a deeper reason we love to go big. Our events aren’t just celebrations—they’re expressions of success. You wear that five-yard fringe and exaggerated shoulder not just because it’s beautiful, but because it says you’ve arrived. You’re doing well. You’re flourishing. That alone is reason enough to dress like the main character—even if it’s not your wedding.
So no, subtlety doesn’t work at Nigerian events. Not because it isn’t stylish or elegant, but because it doesn’t register in our language of fashion. We’re loud. We’re visual. We’re expressive. We’re extra—and we like it that way. If your outfit doesn’t deserve its own spotlight or make people pause mid-scrolling on Instagram, then darling, what’s the point?
Better call your tailor. And tell them to add feathers.
