Dressing Nigerian: Day Two
It begins with the body
I woke up around 4:30 this morning with thoughts of clothes and the body. Tell me you're immersed without telling me you're immersed. Before we get into my early morning thoughts, here's what I'm wearing today.
Opened my eyes to this thought: We dress first for our bodies. Clothes are a language to communicate identities like political beliefs, religion, nationality and other affiliations, which I spoke about briefly on Day 1. That, however, is the secondary purpose of clothes.
Suppose I walk into a store and can't find any dresses in my size sufficient to cover my hypothetical nakedness. In that case, it does not matter what I want to communicate with my clothes. I first have to find something that fits and is ideally flattering. When it meets these criteria, I can judge how articulate it is at saying what I want it to say about who I am.
Watching Phat Girlz back in 2006 was the first time I heard that some people find it challenging to find clothes that fit. Before this movie, gaining weight, having a pot belly or being plus-sized was simply evidence of good living. Imagine my surprise when I learned there are contexts where this good life has not-so-good parts.
Like Phat Girlz shows, Western fashion is tied intricately to body size. Their outfits are tailored to fit the body closely, drawing attention to the individual identity. Bodies outside the convention are expected to conform to the dress. No wonder this framework produces so many body image and identity issues.
Collectivist societies like Nigeria take another approach to clothes. The priority is expressing associations: family, occupation, royal status, etc. Loose-fitting clothes like tops and wrappers, for example, adaptable to many body types and sizes are the result. It's almost impossible for anyone to not look and feel top-tier in traditional attire. Because the body matters less, it grants people the freedom to just be.
One of the things I'm observing from this project is people's reactions to my outfits. Since there was no audience at home, I went into the wild, aka Walmart and ended up in the shoes section.
Side note: another name for shoes could totally be feet clothes. Let me know in the comments if it could catch on.
Here, I wonder what a 'Nigerian' shoe is and am so baffled that this is the first time this thought has crossed my mind. Cue our trusty Google, who tells me that shoes weren't really a thing back in the day. There were these beaded shoes that Yoruba kings wore and Hausa riding boots.
Someone needs to make a padded version of these beaded shoes. They would be so cool to wear.
No one gave me any second glances while out and about. No stares or special treatment. Future me rationalizes why this didn't happen on next week's post.
Till next week, dear Reader.
Lese