Over a span of two years, I have shifted from a party animal to a domestic one. I still like to have a good time and see the clamour for freedom from different chest appendices but I lost the zeal I once had. Nowadays I can only go out once a week and be rest assured I shall not make many movements throughout the night. Most of it will be restricted to eye-feet coordination just in case I spot someone I know or should know.
So last week I got a random message from a friend I’d never thought I’d hear from. Unlike most friends who pop up after millenniums and ask for a favour, this specific one didn’t have the old friend syndrome. Instead, she had tickets for me to attend an event. To be honest, I’m not interested in events. Why? Simple. More than half of the attendees barely know the mechanics of a given event. I’m no different and for this particular event, I was more than clueless.
People go to events to show off new shoes, tattoos, clothes, butt cracks, thighs and cleavages. How do I know yet I don’t go to events? I know people who would kill for an event. After careful deliberation with myself and stars aligning themselves I decided not to let Charlotte down. I went for the event. Being a novice, I had to get back up to accompany me which was afforded to me by the aforementioned lady in the form of four complimentary tickets.
The event was at the Railways Museum and this was a bitter sweet moment for me because I share a deep history with the Railway Company. Well, not really, my grandfather does but you get the point, loyalty and all. This was my first time to access this historic site and tears gracefully rolled down my cheeks as I walked through the gate. I couldn’t tell if it was nostalgia, the hideous make up the ushers had put on or the tightness of the tag on my wrist.
Let me just say, from here on I won’t tell you much about the actual event because I found another event within the event. The first thing I saw when I approached the main event arena (it wasn’t an arena but as always, you get the point) was thighs. I’m a Nairobian, I’ve probably seen more thighs than a stand up gyno (Shout out to all the gynos doing their job right). All my eyes see are thighs. Thighs here, thighs there and thighs so far away we had to call it Thailand.
These thighs were not the normal thighs. I saw dark thighs. Like Lupita dark but a bit more fleshy and equally shiny. There were caramel thighs, not too light and nothing close to dark. I even saw milk thighs and had to confirm if she had stockings on because I could swear her legs were so white I got high just from looking at them.
Before my guests and I could settle down for a drink, I had said a few hi’s to some not so high profile guests. Then came Charlotte http://bit.ly/1LqmVNw and I’m probably the only person will the guts to say that she wasn’t showcasing anything on the runway (yeah, it was a fashion event, whatever) but she was a star attraction. There’s an onion booty, which makes people tear in amazement. This, this is the careless sleeper booty. You won’t even have the time to cry because you’ll be drooling.
Out of respect, I’ll stop at she had the best booty around (See how I played with booty and around? Nairobi’s next rapper). Unfortunately, there was two of us guys and a lady so we couldn’t thirst freely but we still managed to sneak in a few ooohhs and aaahhhhs. After around an hour or so I noticed all the models walked funny. Is it a thing for models to walk with slouched backs and throw their feet at the ground like they’re dipping it into a basin of hot water? That’s beside the point, ok except for this one designer that had a black top and no bra. I was against the Free The Boob Movement but after seeing how well her melons hang from her top, ladies, you can wear them as you wish.
As the evening progressed, the more people I knew started showing up. Some I expected like Cindy and Kimberly of StyleBuds, http://www.stylebuds.co.ke/ but others, not even if the event was dishing out free genitalia (female of course) did I expect to see there. I said I wasn’t going to say much about the event but my conscience won’t allow me to just talk about beautiful bums, chests and weird make-dos.
There were plenty of designers who brought out their models to strut out their stuff on the red carpet which looked purple from the strobe light’s reflection. One thing is for sure, I am no fashion guru, icon or emoji. I can’t tell a crop top from a rugged t-shirt. They’ve all been cropped in my eyes. What I’m going to write from here is purely from an observer’s standpoint.
Fashion is all about creativity and bar some Kanye inspired brothers, most of the work was either something I’d seen before or someone tried to peddle on my timeline. I know Ankara or Kitenge (I don’t know the difference) has taken the fashion industry by storm without a valid cause. As most designers do, the creators of these fashions simply saw CTRL+X, CTRL+V and CTRL+P.
I’m a proponent of trying to think in an open space and for the better part I felt only one or two designers took the risk of bringing something new and letting it speak for itself. I don’t think anyone other than the Kardashians, Kanye and Tyga will wear any of the rags Yeezy showcased but he still went all out and expressed a style we’ve seen on the streets but never paid much attention to.
The designers at the Nairobi Elegance Affair however, were more focused on whether the attires were marketbale or not. And the answer is most of them aren’t. You saw the human back packs at the New York Fashion Week. Nobody will buy a human back pack but a designer still got mad props for putting up such a bold statement on the runway.
All in all the vent was very well planned with stalls, a food and beverage stand, people with cameras asking me if I’m a Nikonite or Canonite (I’m neither, I just look good), models in all shapes and sizes and Charlotte. Ok, speaking of models and shapes and sizes, I really don’t care whether a lady is 80Kgs or 79.5Kgs but why are people starving models? I’ll stop at that let you know that if you see me in any fashion magazine, Ebony especially, don’t be surprised.
I have made my debut in the fashion world and the ladies went crazy just from hearing my voice. I booed a few models because they represented different fashion houses (I’m hood, we advocate for loyalty). My conclusion? Fashion events are my kind of gigs from now on. I’m not going for any event that doesn’t meet the threshold of 1:3. I have not been paid to do this either and I feel as if I should have at least been given two complimentary models for my loyalty to the show.
That’s all for today kids. Randy Orton out of nowhere! I’m done now.