Guess who’s been refreshing flight booking sites like it’s a sport, pacing between tabs of airline promos, designer lookbooks, and Nigerian tailor Instagram pages? That would be me. Because two weddings are loading, and I’m not just pulling up to fill a seat and clap. No I’m best man at one, and grooms lady at the other. You read that right.
Double the roles; Grooms lady and Best man, double the drama, and quadruple the outfit pressure. I have no choice but to come correct, because these weddings aren’t just about love they’re also about style, honour, and maybe just a sprinkle of low-key revenge fashion. And if you know anything about Nigerians and weddings, you know this isn’t a game. It’s war stylish, joyful, emotional war and I’m marching in with my fashion artillery locked and loaded.
For starters one of these weddings belong to my favourite cousin, and the other is for one of my gees I basically grew up with from 2go days. These are not random invites. These are my core-people weddings. I’ve watched their love stories unfold, and now I get to be front and centre on the biggest day of their lives. Naturally, I’m not going to roll in wearing anything that doesn’t speak volumes. I plan to look like a celebration. Like loyalty in fabric form. Like the walking embodiment of “You didn’t come to play as a grooms lady/ best man, did you?” and the answer would certainly be hell no!
But beyond the sentiment, let me remind everyone that I’m Nigerian. That means fashion is not an accessory to the wedding, it is the wedding. We don’t ease into events. We arrive. We announce. We break necks gently with our slay. And that applies to everyone, from grandma to baby cousin including the buns in oven.
Now, imagine the pressure on someone who’s not just attending, but standing next to the couple in an official capacity as a whole best man and grooms lady. If you thought I’d settle for anything off the rack, think again. I’ve been curating mood boards, saving grooms lady and best man style inspirations like secret weapons, and mentally practicing how I’m going to strut past that auntie who thinks she’s the family fashion police. She’ll have no notes, I promise you and I would share receipts if asked nicely.
For the best man role, I’m going all out. Not “do too much” energy, but calculated, composed, rich-aunt energy. A modern spin on the traditional agbada, maybe in a deep, regal colour that photographs like it costs what it actually cost. Clean embroidery. Strong shoulders. Effortless movement so I can hit those small chops and still break into a zanku if the DJ cues the right track. And when it’s time to give a toast? My outfit will already be speaking on my behalf. Sharp, tailored, culturally rich — like I’m walking around draped in respect, mischief, and maybe a bit of main character syndrome.
Now switch to the grooms lady moment and this one has me buzzing. First of all, the name grooms lady alone commands interest. People don’t hear “grooms lady” and think you’re pulling up in the usual. No. They expect intrigue. They expect style with a plot twist.
And I plan to deliver. I’m thinking a tailored suit that makes no apologies, cinched at the waist, bold in fabric choice, probably something brocade or jacquard with texture you can see from across the room. Heels? Maybe. Loafers? Possibly. Confidence? Always. There’s something exhilarating about being in a space where you’re blurring the lines, honouring the tradition, and still creating something totally you.
I’ve got payback planned too as grooms lady and best man, the fun kind and honestly these two men certainly don’t know the mischief up my sleeve but I am certain they expect it. Also, I’ve been hearing jokes for years about when I’ll settle down, when it’ll be my turn, and who I’m bringing home. Well, guess who’s about to show up so well-dressed and well-accessorised as grooms lady that the only question will be where I bought my outfit? I’m playing the long game here. I plan to arrive with a presence so striking, all questions turn into compliments. A silent but deadly slay. And all in the name of family.
The real MVPs behind this grooms lady and best man mission, though? Nigerian designers. I’ve been swooning over their creations for months, waiting for the right event to slide into their DMs with a “Hi, do you have capacity?” Like a style proposal. Because what Nigerian designers are doing right now? It’s revolutionary. They’re taking ancestral silhouettes and turning them into red carpet statements. They’re weaving cultural pride into every stitch. From the regal finishes of Ugo Monye to the razor-sharp tailoring of Mai Atafo, we are so not short of talent. These are people who understand what it means to show up at a wedding looking like both heritage and heat.
I’m also not naïve. I know there’s a lot of room for error when it comes to wedding fashion especially with roles like mine. It’s a tightrope walk between standing out and not upstaging the couple, between tradition and trend, between comfort and drama. But I trust the vision. I know what I want: intentional design, thoughtful detail, and outfits that hold space for the emotional weight of the moment. These aren’t just clothes. They’re tributes. And honestly, they’re part of the thank-you I owe these two people for accepting my invitation, so deeply into their lives and their stories. Yes, I told them from the onset, these are the roles I would be functioning in. I am coming out of my usual comfort zone for once.
And let’s not forget the general guest vibes. Nigerian weddings are not one day affairs. No, no. There’s the traditional wedding, the white wedding, the after-party, and maybe even a welcome soirée if you roll with old money. Each one needs a distinct look. I’m planning outfits the way people plan vacation itineraries. My aso ebi look? Still being locked in, but know that the interpretation will not be basic. The goal is to wear the fabric, not let the fabric wear me. I want structure, style, and a generous helping of flair. Think sleeves that move when I dance and slits that whisper but don’t shout. I’m not going for trendy, I’m going for timeless.At the core of all this, though, is love. As much as I’m joking and flexing, this really is about love. About showing up for the people who matter. About dressing up as a form of gratitude and pride. About standing beside someone and silently telling them, “You’ve always had me in your corner, and today is no different.” When I think about it like that, all the stress, the fittings, the fabric hunting, the Pinterest spirals feels worth it. More than worth it. It feels sacred.
So yes, I’m pumped. I’m over the moon excited. I’m emotionally invested, fashionably committed, and yes mildly chaotic in my approach. But that’s the only way I know how to do it. The grooms lady and best man outfits are coming. The roles are locked in. And the honourable constituency? Represented to the fullest.
