Style Is Political: What We Wear Says More Than You Think
When you throw on that oversized blazer or wrap yourself in adire, you might think you’re just getting dressed. But fashion is rarely just fashion. In Nigeria (and across the world), style is a declaration. A subtle (or loud) protest. A cultural flex. A mirror of class, resistance, pride, and even grief. What we wear speaks, even when we don’t.
Clothes Aren’t Neutral. They Never Have Been.
From the gele tied high at owambes to the “casual Friday” Ankara tops worn in Lagos offices, clothing carries history. It tells stories of migration, trade, colonization, liberation, and revolution. What we call “traditional” attire today was once a political stance against Western assimilation. Now, it’s woven into the fabric of our identity. Pun intended.
Even the decision not to wear something is a political statement. The refusal of Nigerian youths to wear agbada, for example, used to signal rebellion, a desire to break free from outdated systems. Today, that same agbada is being reclaimed, tailored with edge, worn with sneakers, and made cool again. Because politics evolves, and so does style.
Remember SARS?
The protests were a powerful reckoning. A collective outcry against police brutality, corruption, and the devaluation of Nigerian lives. And while the movement was never about fashion, protestors still used every available tool: their voices, their bodies, their clothes to be seen and heard. Black shirts, painted jeans, bandanas, handwritten messages on tees, these weren’t style statements, they were acts of resistance. In moments of deep unrest, even clothing can become part of the message.
Hair Is Political Too
Let’s not forget our hair. Whether you rock braids, a buzz cut, locs, or lace fronts, you’re making a statement about identity. Natural hair, in particular, has carried political weight for decades. There’s something revolutionary about walking into a Nigerian corporate office with an afro, especially in industries that subtly reward Eurocentric beauty standards.
Even in schools, we’ve seen this play out where dreadlocks are questioned, or girls are asked to “tidy up” their natural curls. So yes, what grows out of your scalp can be a protest, a poem, a political act.
Gender Expression Through Style
And then there’s gender. In Nigeria, dressing “according to your gender” is still heavily policed. A man in a kaftan is regal. A man in a skirt? Suddenly, that’s controversial. Women are judged by how much skin they show, whether their outfit is “decent,” whether they’re trying too hard or not trying at all.
But fashion doesn’t have to conform. Designers like Tokyo James, Orange Culture, and Fruché are challenging gender norms in Nigerian fashion. They’re building spaces for fluidity, creativity, and freedom. They’re reminding us that clothes don’t have gender, we just assigned it to them.
Wearing what makes you feel like you is one of the most political things you can do in a world that’s constantly trying to define you.
For a deeper look at how Nigerian designers are challenging gender norms and redefining masculinity through fashion, read our profile on Orange Culture: Softness Is Resistance.
Style and Aspiration: What We Wear Reflects Where We Are (and Where We Hope to Be)
Fashion has always been a tool for expression, not just of identity, but of desire. In Nigeria, style often bridges the gap between reality and aspiration. Whether it’s a 2,500 naira blouse from Tejuosho Market or a structured custom piece from a local designer, what we wear is a reflection of what we value, what we admire, and sometimes, what we dream of becoming.
This is especially true in cities like Lagos, where everyday style feels like performance art. People dress not just for function, but to signal creativity, intention, and confidence. And you don’t need a luxury label to pull that off. In fact, some of the most unforgettable looks come from the people mixing vintage with local designers, Ankara with denim, or streetwear with handcrafted accessories.
Style, here, is less about class and more about code switching: between comfort and class, softness and strength, tradition and reinvention. Nigerian fashion has space for it all and increasingly, we’re seeing brands across all price points stepping into that space with boldness and authenticity.
Brands like Morin.O represent what luxury looks like when it’s rooted in heritage and crafted with intention. But so do smaller labels and everyday stylists who take what’s accessible and make it exceptional.
Style as Resistance and Reclamation
When Nigerian women wear aso-oke in bold colors, they’re not just showing up for a party, they’re showing up for legacy. When we infuse modern cuts with traditional fabrics, that’s culture in motion. It’s not nostalgia. It’s power.
We’ve seen designers like Dye Lab create modern silhouettes with tie-dye fabrics, bringing age old techniques into new conversations. (Check them out on Instagram: @dye_lab). We’ve seen youth in Lagos pair thrifted jeans with beaded jewelry, creating a whole new visual language.
And don’t get it twisted: thrift culture is political too. It says something about sustainability, about rejecting fast fashion, about economic realities. There’s even a certain pride in scoring a 2,500 naira Zara blouse in Yaba market. It’s giving budget babe brilliance. It’s giving smart, stylish, and intentional.
So, What Are You Saying When You Get Dressed?
Next time you stand in front of your closet wondering what to wear, ask yourself: ‘What am I trying to say?’
Are you reclaiming softness? Are you declaring your independence? Are you blending your worlds, urban and ethnic, global and local? Are you making peace with your roots? Are you, maybe for once, dressing just for yourself? That, in itself, is radical.
Style is political. Whether you’re donning agbada or thrifted trousers, you’re making a statement. Own it.
But hey, no pressure. Not every outfit needs to carry the weight of your ancestry or announce your worldview. Sometimes, you just want to wear that baggy shirt because it’s soft and oversized and lets your body breathe. Or that cinched-waist skirt that hugs you just right. And yes, maybe even that is political. But you don’t always have to overthink it. Just know, fashion speaks, even in whispers.
So while you’re at it, support Nigerian fashion. Let your wardrobe not just reflect your taste, but your values too.
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