Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York — 5 May 2025.
When the Costume Institute asked the world to decode “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” it was really inviting a thousand micro-stories of fabric, memory and swagger. Yet, on the blue carpet it was the Nigerians—designers, singers, actors, even a chef—who kept handing me new plot twists in pinstripes, eelskin and coral beads. This is not a best-dressed list; it’s a field report on how a diaspora dressed itself loud enough to be heard from Lagos to the Upper East Side.
BLOOD-RED ROYALTY: BURNA BOY
Two weeks after lighting up Stade de France, Burna Boy returned fire in a scarlet Ozwald Boateng tuxedo, its power multiplied by an ox-blood eelskin cape that swished like Niger-Delta tidewater behind him. The look pivoted only the night before, but nothing about it felt last-minute—Boateng and Burna coded survival and sovereignty into every stitch.
BLUE NOTES & GREEN WHISPERS: TEMS
Tems chose Boateng too, but answered the brief with a deep-navy shirtdress, grass-green print and a necktie that trailed like a jazz riff. Vogue called it a “powerful homage to Black dandyism”; on the carpet it read like cool Lagos rain—quiet, precise, unavoidable.
SABI GIRL SPINS A SUIT: AYRA STARR
The rookie came dressed to duel the veterans: a sleek, floor-grazing Boateng column in midnight gabardine that relied on razor-sharp pleating, not embellishment, to telegraph confidence. Nigerian press clocked the look as “bold, minimal, striking”—exactly the balancing act of her Afropop.
F1 MEETS 70s FUNK: DAMSON IDRIS
Idris braked an actual race car at the Met steps, stepped out in a Swarovski-studded Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit, then shed it in a pit-stop flourish to reveal a burgundy plaid three-piece. A costume change masquerading as a victory lap.
TAILORING AS TRIBUTE: AYO EDEBIRI
Host-committee member Edebiri raided Ferragamo archives with designer Maximillian Davis and emerged in a coral-beaded gown inspired by Edo royalty. She topped it with a black leather trench—half tuxedo, half war-coat—and the internet promptly declared her “one-of-one.”
TURQUOISE OUTLAW: SHABOOZEY
Country’s Naija-born rebel worked a cropped obsidian suit draped in turquoise beads, matching grillz and a wide-brim hat. Beyoncé once told him to stay weird; he obeyed by looking like a Zulu cowboy at a Harlem rent party.
THE CROWNED CHEF: KWAME ONWUACHI
Inside he plated the gala dinner; outside he plated himself—pinstripe suit, jewelled crown and enough swagger to season the whole museum. Business Insider listed him among the men who “stole the show,” and yes, a toque would have been too easy.
SIX-FOOT-TWO ENERGY: EGO NWODIM
The SNL star turned archival Christopher John Rogers suiting into a skyscraper, stacking hair and shoulder pads until she “felt 6-foot-2.” Archival, yes; archival-punk, definitely.
JEWELLED TWINS, JEWELLED THREADS: DYNASTY & SOULL OGUN
The Lagos-Brooklyn twins behind L’Enchanteur dressed themselves (and five other guests) in layered charcoal tailoring, heavy with brass chains and talismanic medals—an ode to their father’s 1970s Yoruba suits and to the price independent Black designers still pay to be here.
TWO-TONED QUIET STORM: NNAMDI ASOMUGHA
In a split-hue suit that shaded from midnight to dove-grey, the former NFL cornerback reminded everyone that stealth tailoring wins games too.
RUBY CONTRALTO: CYNTHIA ERIVO
Givenchy draped her in sequined ruby shards over a black tulle skirt—Wicked’s Elphaba trading green for Dorothy’s slippers. Defying gravity, but make it gem-stoned.
FEATHERS & FEMINISM: CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE
As host-committee novelist, Adichie wore Prabal Gurung’s red feathered train festooned with bow-ties—turning the night’s menswear code into a literary footnote on gender and dress.
LAVENDER SOFTWARE: JOHN IMAH
The Nigerian-American tech exec commissioned Sergio Hudson for a double-breasted lavender suit and hand-embroidered overcoat—proof that cloud computing can still produce a silver-lining lapel.
TAILORING THE FUTURE
This year’s Met Gala posed one question: What happens when Black style is the syllabus, not the sidebar? The Nigerians on the carpet answered in dialects of wool, bead and bravado—each look a footnote to the grand thesis of Black dandyism, yet unmistakably stamped “Made in Naija.” The after-party chatter will fade; the photographs won’t. Somewhere between Boateng’s capes and Edebiri’s coral lattice, Lagos stitched another chapter into global couture—and did it on its own terms, tailor-made, superfine.