In a way it seemed like we would not get anywhere with this, but as time went by we finally started to embrace the ambiguity of fashion itself. The way it spoke to us, seemed quite different from how others perceived it, hence we were shoved out the back door without any prior notice.
We covered ourselves in our shadows and waited for the sun to shine through the darkness. All we did was crave for an outer soul to save our own imaginations as we thought it too little.
We finally realized no one can save us, we have to shove ourselves right at their throats otherwise what we thought little would be snatched out of our palms!! the pain would be watching this from afar blossom without us being in the picture.
Slowly we started picking up, embracing our own difference, being proud of how flaky we were, not afraid of being perceived wrongly or not fitting into the big picture.
We started creating names for ourselves, going beyond the ordinary to be known for a craft we loved so much. My fashion story is my African race, identity, and people that have finally stood up for what they believe in without letting the ethics of traditions of others to influence their creative instincts.
