I walked through the gates of the Federal Palace Hotel in Victoria Island nervous. The prospect of covering my first fashion week in two years put me in a state. I was equal parts excited and distress. I sought to distract myself from my mental tyranny so I looked at the hotel properly and wondered if it had the right to call itself a palace. It's an interesting question to ask because as nice as it is, it cannot shake the fact that a building whose only qualities of note are ugliness and depreciation lies behind it.

I got there at 6:15, forty-five minutes after the event was meant to start. It didn't start till 8:30. I thought the wait cruel but that is something you grow used to when you live here. Time, the most precious of things treated like it costs nothing but very few left even when the cruelty of it assumed artistic genius.

It began with Belois couture. Their beginning was promising, a deep red dress that showed off the white model that wore it beautifully. The next one was alright too, a frilly boxy slip of thing, and after that it died and I was weary. It's the same feeling you have when you realise that your boo of two weeks is a non-starter. And then the brand showed a jumpsuit that had what looked like a vagina on its top half. It made me uncomfortable but I was glad because of it. The aim of these things I think is to feel something. If not for that jumpsuit I thought vulgar to the point obscenity, I would have forgotten about the collection altogether, and that is never a good thing. Too much work, and love, and life goes into creating these things for them to be struck from memory.

Wanger Ayu followed Belois, and that, could have done with an edit, or at the very least a second, third and fourth opinion. I say this for two reasons. The first is that in all my years in Lagos, I have not had the pleasure of meeting the woman she had in mind. A woman, who would wear the checkered print that's almost only restricted to house-girls and unfortunate students with confidence could only be a treasure. The second is that everything else was so full of detail, that they very nearly blurred out all that was good about them. She closed her show with a performance by Waje. The clothes sang on the talented performer in a way that they did not on the models.

The problem with Divine Endowments is that there is very little to say. I have seen everything the label showed far too many times for them to feature in what I like to think is an interesting discussion about fashion. I kept glancing at my watch as if the action would speed time up. I found myself thinking of how Mama and Papa Afam had just returned from China and how I probably wouldn't get to see them before they went to bed. You mustn't think that it was bad, because it wasn't. If you needed something to wear tomorrow that would raise no eyebrows,and lead to no double takes, then I doubt you could do better than the quiet conformity of Divine Endowments.

Titi Bello reminded me very much of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. It opened with a short dress that had a neckline that plunged to just above the navel; a sexy image the brand did not burn into my mind. In any case, I think the world has tired of vampires and the vampy for just a bit. In about 4 years it'll be all the rage again, but that's another thing about fashion; sometimes the greatest crime is being in the right place at the wrong time.

I was pleased to learn that Lagos Fashion and design week gave the designers of clothing full figured women and men a platform. The models walked with confidence, energy and confidence, with looks that seemed to say "we've beaten the system." As my friend Feyi Adesanya put it, "I'm happy for them. It is a shame that they're not represented in what Nigerians know as high fashion even when they are fashion's largest market." It is more than a shame, it is a travesty; one that many a designer will learn before too long. The model's body is a rare one, it is far better to think of a bigger sized customer than it is to fight for the thin. In the previous collections there were blouses so tight that I turned to Feyi and said, "That piece looks like torture." This section was good even though it did lag at times. There was a blouse by Maki Oba that I thought exceptional.

At the point when my resolve to cover Lagos fashion week was weakest, the models walked out in Style Temple. The brand took traditional shirt collar, blew up its proportions and turned it on its side, revealing clavicles and shoulders with the determined sex appeal and avoidance of tackiness that every good socialite exudes. In hind sight there were parts of it that weren't quite successful, the shirt skirt at the end was not as luxurious as it could have been, but it was the first collection that I thought interesting. The line between practicality and experimentation was walked finely.

When you're a fashion insider, it's surprising to see how many stories you become a part of. You support them even though you know it's tough, and you long for them to do well with everything in your being. This is how I feel about Rayo. She made a paradise for any straw hat lover, and showed the commercial pieces with the concept ones. But there was someone there who was more pleased about how good her collection was than I, her sister, Reni Somoye. She said, "I'm super proud of her. She's shown tremendous growth. I think she's finally overcome a boundary that every designer seems to face, the gap between what you think you have to make, and what you want to make. She's finally making what you want to make." I will own one or more of those straw hats, no matter how many installments it takes.

T.I Nathan was my best of the night. Believe it or not most of us have better things to do than look at clothes. If I wanted to do that, I'd stare at my wardrobe till my eyes bled. He made it an emotional experience for me. First there were pieces printed with what Lagos calls vices. There was a bomber jacket on a girl that said give me your money, and a white t-shirt that said, "Hey I need a job." The latter moved me beyond belief. Unemployment is a condition too abysmal to be so common. And there's the hypocrisy in the supposed shame of it, when the truth of things is that in this country, you could do everything right - get go to school, get good grades, finish National Youth Service and still end up unemployed. T.I ended it with his suits, which are always cut brilliantly. However, some of the crotches were a bit busy. As my mum always says, pack like you'd like to be addressed. I'm not sure that many would appreciate meeting anyone penis first.

Kinabuti stayed true to her customers and presented clothes that were mostly beyond my capacity to understand. Fur in Lagos? For who? For what? For where? For why? In spite of that there was a shirt or two that was nice and that I think is progress.

After this came Tokyo James. The brand conjured images of BDSM which isn't bad at all, but some of it was far too vulgar. I get that fashion designers must push the boundaries of style but a t shirt that says, "SHUT UP AND SUC IT" is a push too far in the wrong direction. To the brand's credit, their tailoring is impeccable.

Before the show began there was much excitement around Onalaja, a brand that's helmed by the young Konyinsola who is yet to complete her masters in fashion design somewhere in Italy. Her clothes looked expensive but sometimes they seemed to move with great difficulty. There were a lot of ideas here, and several risks were taken. This is always more commendable than not taking any risks at all. Some say they'd like to be buried in a metallic coat that she made. I think it's far too good for a shroud. There's great promise here.

The last collection that I saw was by Sisiano. His showing was without a doubt the best of the evening but was only merely good before a male model walked out in a pale pink dress. As he turned the corner I gasped. It was scandalous in the best way possible. You feel it in the air when someone articulates a contrary thought so completely that all must stop consider it. The piece itself seemed to say break the patriarchy, and with it, throw out every vile thing we've come to believe that men are. This one spoke to me of mental health which is a clear example of how perceived notions of masculinity can be fatal. It is believed to be the thing that stops men from seeking help. We're meant strong and independent, but in truth we're not. Our tears are just as transparent and our blood is just as red. However even this collection that made me think of all these things wasn't enough. I want to be astounded. I want to know what it is for clothes to make you weep. It came close to the profound, but there's still ground to be covered. At least Sisiano and a good few I saw last night are moving in the right direction.

I left after this for there is only so much of my time I can give. Staying till the end would have been more expensive than I could afford.

Happy Days,
Afam.

Events are a thing I nearly always look forward to. A fact I may not have known if my first and best therapist, had not said:

"Afam, you are so delightful that you must share your spirit with the world. It would be a crime against all that is good if you only attended your solitary pity parties."
 
And even if that wasn't true, I've discovered that I have a profound attraction to drinks I do not pay for myself. It is the only way to really enjoy outings in these difficult economic times. Everytime I have a drink that comes without a corresponding line in my bank statement, I do a little shimmy much like the one Hillary Clinton did in her first presidential debate.

I received the invitation to the Heineken Lagos Fashion and Design Week press day with great joy. The moment it arrived in my phone's inbox, I called up Avenger 2, and we decided that we would go together. When the working day was done, we made our way to the Heineken establishment in Ikoyi to do them the honour of depleting their stock. Heineken tastes as good as champagne when it has nothing to do with your money.



That's what the place looked like from the great outdoors. Look at it, sticking out like a leprechaun in the Lagos night. But that's what happens when the good people at Heineken happen to a place. It will flash blue, then red, then green, forever and ever and ever. Amen.


When we walked in we were stunned because we were expecting a cocktail party, not a series of lectures. As someone who has only just come out of education, it is not a format I enjoy.

I downed the beer I was handed like the champion of the drinking game Arise Oh Compatriots, and worked the room, abandoning Avenger 2 in the corner.

The drinking game Arise Oh Compatriots is the finest example of Weekend Patriotism you're ever likely to find. You must finish your big bottle of Star or Heineken in the time that it takes to sing the first verse of Nigeria's national anthem or less.  

Also how stylish is the man in front of me. He's the sort of person that would make Papa Afam have an aneurysm and die on the spot. This is the main reason why I do not allow Papa Afam accompany me to all the events I go to. If you're ever invited to my house for a birthday or a random Sunday night barbecue, google posh public school boy and come like that. You are not allowed to kill my father, who I love dearly. 

 

As I made my way around the room, I bumped into these four. On the extreme left we have Noble. I don't know what sort of look that is, but I'll say a prayer for him so that the next time he sees me, he'll look like he's genuinely happy to see me. Next to him is Mai Atafo. That is the face you make when anyone asks you how you're coping with the recession. And then there's Zinna. This is how I know I've really fallen to the bottom of the barrel, I almost want to beg her to give say Heineken and smile but I'm far too broke to beg for anything but money. Last but not least is Tosin of Ebony life fame, doing his best impression of the Ibo fine boy pose.

I learned a very important thing from them:

That if not smiling and looking away are the things that cool people do, then I shall do them with so much aplomb that my face and neck are never be same again.

 
It should come as no surprise to anyone that I was in great need of a drink after that unfortunate encounter. I found the nearest Heineken girl and demanded that she hand me a brew.

Above is Omoyemi Akerele, the founder and artistic director of Style House Files, a creative and development agency for African designers. That night, one rather interesting character called her the Anna Wintour of Lagos. I hate that he said that. I hate it when we feel the need to equate the stars of our local industries to Westerners. What's wrong with being Omoyemi Akerele, the woman behind Lagos Fashion and Design Week? Would anyone call Wizkid, Nigeria's Chris Brown. Wizkid is Wizkid just as Omoyemi is Omoyemi.

 
And here we've got Bolanle Olukanni. The magnitude of her smile reveals the truth about her. She's one of the best people in Nigeria's entertainment indusry. I like her so much that even the unnatural blondeness of her hair is adorable. The tree that is my affection for her casts no shade and its leaves brew no tea.
 
Now we've got Bayo Oke-Lawal, the Orange Culture man. I have it on good authority that his shirt is an Orange Culture shirt, which is lovely because I get panic attacks when designers don't wear the clothes they make. I have a theory about this. It's called the if you can't wear your own shit, how can you expect anyone else to theory. It's one of the reasons why I will some day hopefully own something that he's made. In fact I had thoughts about buying the jacket below.
But if I did, dear old Papa Afam would have a stroke and die. He is of the opinion that a man's back outside the context of sport is something like a woman's nipple, never to be exposed in public.


Here we've got Bidemi Zakariyau. It was rather difficult to get this picture. She wasn't very thrilled by the prospect of taking a picture next to a portrait of herself but I wore her down with my charming smile and we're all the better for it. She looks lovely doesn't she?

This is Akin Faminu. He's a blogger and a medical student. I would say that he's studying the wrong thing but I could never be that rude. I mean the combination he's got on is so astounding that it would be a crime to hide it underneath a doctor's scrub which is essentially a poorly tailored bed sheet.

I do not quite understand how my iphone managed to take this picture. When I saw it on my phone's screen, I looked to the sky and asked the Lord if his ancestors had sent spiritual people after him.


On the left we've got Funmi Daniel, and on the right we've got Ivie Omenai. Ivie is the human equivalent of jollof rice. She's spicy, sweet, and there's something about her that makes you feel like you should be drinking coke. Apart from all that, she's got entrepreneurship in her veins. Would you believe it if I told you that she's the CEO of four companies? The first is Raya Sanarti, a company that provides original art deco jewellery with semi precious stones. The second is the Weave Hat company. That one does what it says. If you've got a weave and you can't find a hat that can accommodate the Brazilian head of hair you've added to yours then look no further than the weave hat company. And then she's got Beach Bum, swim and beach wear for the West African Market. If you'd like to get in touch, drop an email here:info@theweavehatcompany.com, and visit her website, theweavehatcompany.com

You won't regret it, Ninety-nine and three-quarters per cent guaranteed. Everything her hand touches is golden.

And here, we've got the terrible children of Lagos. The one on the right, Ed, provided the inspiration for that name. He's wearing a skirt. There was a time when I thought I could also wear a skirt, but I went for deliverance and came back born again.
Last but not least is Ijeoma Ndekwu of Redrick PR fame. I won't say anything even remotely controversial here because she's a PR woman and PR women are powerful. If I say anything dodgy the invitations to these free drinkathons will slow and I will be unhappy. She sorts out most of the press related details of Lagos Fashion and Design Week and I think she does a rather brilliant job. I have no complaints. It is always a pleasure to see her. I apologise for the terrible picture, but it is what I found on my phone when I looked at it.

I know! Believe me I know! Fashion week was a lifetime ago, so I shouldn't be talking about it now, but these designers need to be told yo!

I've recently learned that the Nigerian first language isn't English but pidjin English, so I shan't type this one in English, I shall type it out in pidjin because it's a little bit of a public service announcement.

Anytin u dey do in life, you first need to understand am wellie wellie. U na nid to kno what your neighbour is doing befo u com embarrass yourself pata pata. But eh, you kno, the kind of embarrassment you go embarrass yourself is a very special kind of embarrassment becos not every body go kno say u embarrass yourself. Like that time Wande Cole and Don Jazzy just dey cast demselves for twitter. Some pepo were team Wande and Some udder pepo were team jazzy but d pepo wey get sense knew dat dere was no winna. All na losa.

So, when som1 go to New York fashion Week to show apron, make u na no come back one month later and also show apron oh! Or when you see dat beta designer don dey release look book and pisho make u too release your own bcos if you dont it will look like say u don copy welly welly. At least if prada coms out yesterday and ur own comes out today everybodi go say dat imbe trend even if u see am and dob am shap shap. I kno say not every1 fit be superior dobberman like dat so make una try do am in one week if na dob u dey dob, but if u no dob, y u go wait tree monts b4 u sho ur own. Is it smat?

Also make u na no wetin everybodi in history don do b4 u come and say na 4 naija u don first make d little black dress. Pepo in Naija go just dey hail u, but when international journalist come and see as u don talk am, dem just go dey lafff pass goat and sheep and winches and wizad. Dey no go feature u 4 magazine oh. Make u no wetin inspire u as u dey design wetin u dey design bcos beta designer are writing dissertation oh! See as I don talk am finish. A word is enough for d... wais.

Happi Deis,
Afam

The shocking thing about fashion journalism in Nigeria, is that there is none. There's so much arse kissing that it's a wonder that everyone in the industry doesn't walk around with pink eye. And that in itself isn't the worst thing. The worst thing is that  the only fashion journalism that exists here is actually PR. That's awful. I was going to swear there but I refrained. I've got to do something about my potty hand.

I'll give you an example:

What the devil is this? http://www.bellanaija.com/2013/10/28/gtbank-lagos-fashion-design-week-2013-iconic-invanity-presents-elements/

The only words in there are:
"Giving us everything fab! The Spring/Summer 2014 Iconic Invanity collection is everything signature Iconic with a few new pieces.

There's no subtlety about it. That's a diamante vagina.

The time has come for the last edition of Street Style at Lagos Fashion Week series. I'm depressed. Hell to the no! I'm ecstatic. All of that running up and down the green carpet like a madman was just too much effort. Actually that's a lie too. I liked it. I really did. I had such great energy. I was so happy and flighty and personable that I almost didn't recognise myself. I'm usually quite cranky, and grouchy, but on the green carpet I was like the duracell bunny. I was the politest, most effective photographer out there and this made me happy. That's enough sentimental rubbish. I can be such an emotional human being sometimes. I'll start this one with a bang.

This is Denola Adepetun aka handsome dude. I like his trousers. And I like how they're rolled up. Ankle cleavage is the best kind of cleavage that a man can have. Pec cleavage is a little too look at me. Ankle cleavage is just the right amount of check me out. That blazer! I need it. Dood, when you read this, just tell me where you got it from. If you don't we shan't be friends. Yes, I'll unfriend you from life. It's that deep. I kid (no, not really). It all works really. His belt doesn't match his shoes, but it still works.

Also, the bow-tie would have been more impressive if it were a self tie one. Self tie bow-ties are the way forward. I shouldn't really comment on his style. It's much better than mine. Mama Afam said so.

Before I left to do my fashion week covering duties on Saturday (the last day of Fashion Week was Saturday), Mama Afam pulled me aside and said, "Afam, that Denola boy, is he a model?" - I think he is, but I said, "No, I don't think so." If I said that he was, Mama Afam would have sighed or made a sarcy comment, or arched an eyebrow the way Nigerian parents tend to do when you tell them that friends of yours have unconventional interests. "Well, he's very handsome. Those cheekbones are something else. He dresses well too. Try to be like him." That killed me. It really did. My idea of dressing well is to take my best clothes and make them look as raggedy as possible, or to lock them up in a closet somewhere and never wear them. "Those cheekbones could have been painted on! It's almost as if he wears make up" she went on. And I said "Well, I wouldn't know, but he might do." "Really?" She asked. I said that I'd ask him when I saw him and I left the house.

It should come as no surprise that when I saw him the first words that left my stupid stupid mouth were, "do you wear make up?" He doesn't wear make up by the way. But he didn't see that question coming. It was a verbal sucker punch. Afam 1, Denola nil. But on the embarrassment, emotional intelligence, and tact scale, it was Afam -1,000,000,000...000,000 (ad infinitum), Denola - 0. I wish I could help myself, but I can't.

This is Damola Adepetun, Denola's brother. Sharp suit. Slightly too long trousers. He's good looking too. He isn't as good looking as his brother. If he was I would have sold their pictures to bellanaija for all the single women, married women, and unhappily married women to eat. Who knows? I still might. I see an Adepetun fan page. And I see thirst.

And now we've got Niyi. That tie. That suit. Those shoes. That Gorimappah!!!! His bald head gives me life! Niyi, what happened to your hat? It's incredibly smart and well cut though. I'll probably do a piece on his label, post-imperial. His ties and pocket squares are stocked in the stranger store in Lagos. Here, he's looking down at me.

And here, we've got Folu Storms giving us "yeah I know you want to take my picture because I'm such a babe." I know you're wondering how she "keeps it 100" She runs. She runs a lot. I bet that stomach is as flat as a board. There are no spanx underneath that dress. The shoes match the dress and the carpet. It was a pleasure to photograph Folu. She's got too many poses for the mandem,

Mai Atafo and Fashion week organising lady. Well they both look nice. I like Mai's monk strap shoes. He's really really dandy though. I mean dandy in the classic sense, and that means that he's a fop, a poseur, a bright young thing, a rake... etc. When I asked to take mummy's picture she said, "But why? I'm not famous or anything." She didn't know that I was Afam. I mean, who gives a flying rats arse if you're famous or not. I need your pisho so that I can write underneath it. Plus some Nigerian celebrities kind of, sort of, take the piss. It's ridiculous really.

Kenneth Ize, looking all dark and emo and London and hipster. He looks like one of my friends from school, Gabriel Inegbese. I'm sorry. I really had to use Gabby's real name. I've never actually written Gabby before. It's kind of feminine when you think about it. #jab. Anyway he's cool. I love those trousers. and those shoes. I like the way he dresses. He looks homeless but not.

She was nice. She stood posing for ages. I was like, Sistuh, sistuh I need your pisho and she was like alright, I'll let you take my pisho.

Then she was like, "he's taken my pisho. Now, lemme scratch my eye without smudging my make ups"(i did that intentionally) But I was like I'm always here sistuh, and I took another pisho! #cheekyafam

When Sistuh realised that I was still there with my baby camera, the canon SX280 HS, she righted herself and gave us the winning pose. I call it the model 101 Imma put my hand on my hip pose. Tyra Banks taught her well. Her name's Marie Miller

This is Rory Okoli. You may remember her from day 2. She looks like she was happy to see me. I like her hair.

See this fine gyal. #TeamLightSkinned I know she's pretty and all, but in Lagos, her prettiness has been magnified 1000% because of how light she is. But that's got nothing to do with her, because she was perfectly nice. She gave me facebook smile here. I'm sure that if you find her on facebook you'll see the same smile in every picture. Linda Iheonu

This guy's name is Prince Joro. He's giving us Halloween and that's just as well, because it's in a few days.

Here you have  Folake Awobot and T.I Nathan. They look nice I think.I like his blazer. I hate her dry cleaning bill.

Look at this curvy babe (Lilian) giving me that shy smile. I know she wants me.  I can see it in her eyes. There are like 1000 songs in those two sentences. The first sentence is equal parts cole ocho by Pit Bull, and Blurred Lines. And the second is some straight up Kylie Minogue. She's Folu Storms' stylist.

I didn't get this chaps name.I like the pieces individually but together? I'm skipping on to the next one before I slay myself.

Tolu Onabanjo and Dk Olumofin-iii. Tolu and Muffin sitting in a tree... I asked him if he was fucking with me, becuase DK Olumofin-iii is a little bit of a weird one. He wasn't. I do like what he's wearing but it's much too much. I don't like the way he's done his pocket square and there's something distinctly Ibo about the chain.

This is Hawa. She's got a face that makes you go awww. She looks like the muse of an R and B song. And there ain't nothing wrong with a little bump and grind. She makes me want to step in the name of love, because Oh! I need her boo, and no! one else will do because with every sommmin and every sommin she makes me fall in love.

This was the Spice televisions, correspondent in Lagos. She said that she loved Lagos, that she flies between England and Lagos, frequently. I said Sistuh, it's easy to love Lagos in small doses. When you live here, if Lagos were a human being you would kill it everyday, and in every way possible.

It's a gorgeous dress.

Here we have Bayo Oke-Lawal aka the Orange Nerd. He's the ultimate hype man. If you write about him, he'll retweet it. This is the best sort of human being in the world. I have no doubt that he's wearing himself again. I like him. If you don't wear your shit, then why should I want to wear it. Anyway, when I have money, I'll buy his stuff on Jumia. In the meanwhile, some freebies would be nice.

Even though Blk Kangaroo is in Canada, it's nice to see that they were present at fashion week. Arrieta, the loudest person on the production team at fashion week is wearing one of their t-shirts here. I saw her yell at a model for coming 3 hours late. I almost cried for the model.

This is Ian Audifferen. He's a great human being. He lent me his designers pass so I could go backstage and steal a very nice seat, and put my tripod down right at the centre of the pit. I am grateful. Here he's wearing orange culture trousers and his own shirt I think. He's a designer. Google him maybe?

This is our very photogenic friend from day 2. I forgot to ask him for his name again. #BadAfam I like the shirt. It's the sort of thing I'd wear as a jacket.

I like smiley people. I really do. Her name's Bunmi Olunloyo. It looks like leather, i's black, and anyway you look at it, those are loubitins. Sistuh, your shoes cost more than my camera. How do you think that makes me feel?

:-). mwahahahahaha. The trousers are a bit long. Those shoes should have stayed in Italy, and homie must have sweating buckets when he got inside because i was wearing a slip of a tshirt and I was positively soaked when I came out of the fashion week tent. I do quite like his shades. A for Effort. He looks good in his own way. He might have looked better if this was London. But I'm not going to see you wearing a bomber jacket and scream, "SWAGGY." I'll think other less pleasant, quite possibly vulgar things. His name is Wale Rubber.

This is them together. The top half isn't bad you know. It's quite nice. It's just those trousers!

This right here is Agocha Davis. :-) I like the name, but it isn't half as cool as mine. My name is Afam Odi. Yes, I gave it to myself. How cool am I? I would wear this I think...maybe not together... And certainly not that well put together. I like to be scruffy. I don't like to comb my hair. How do you like his hair colour? Do I get to make ginger jokes or ask inappropriate questions like, are your pubes ginger?

This here is Bigben. He's a designer. It's a good look I think.

Here we have the one an only Toyin aka sohosister in an asos jumpsuit. I told her that she shouldn't have worn a bra... She's doing her signature pose with her Givenchy bag.

This is Toyin again. Before you brand me a pervert, this is why I told her that she should have ditched the bra, it's visible. She still looks great anyway, and we've got the same Ray Bans. Does this mean that I've got good taste.

You've got to love this girl. She's Onasanya, the best friend of my good friend Zeek, who is killing everyone in LSE. Whoop! Whoop! I really dig the yellow shoes, the distressed denim jeans, and the python print t-shirt. It's crazy.

Here we've got an East African beauty!! Diana Opoti hails from Kenya. Gorgeous Smile!

I have a soft spot for this one. She distracted me from my fashion week coverage with her stimulating conversation. I see her face in my minds eye. She's wearing a wrap dress by someone... I can't remember who. I'll ask her on twitter. This is how you set twitter p. From asking her who she was wearing, I'll ask her about her day, and then in 20 years, we'll be sending our first child to University.

Here we've got Cassandra. She's pouting it like a vilain. Yeah gimme those duck lips! Work it!

This is Toyosi Mobereola. She doesn't live in Nigeria. Can you tell? Is that a leopard print, cheetah print, or jaguar print? Because I can't tell.

I know that I should probably not have put this one in. But it's adorable. Look at Temi Dollface try to make ugly face...

Sistuh Sistuh, this is how you make ugly face. You need to drink a swimming pool load of water and practically drown.

Anyway, I like what she's wearing here. It's a pretty hat.

Here's Folu Storms, interviewing Mai Atafo and rocking the hell out of this Tumiila dress. The dress was shown on the same night!

Yes this is the dress.

I'm glad it's over. I thought it'd never end. Until the next event I cover, or until the next time I take my camera and start harassing the general public. It happens more often than you'd think.

#instavillain