Every season, Ebuka Obi-Uchendu not only presents Big Brother Naija, but he also hosts a live fashion runway show. His wardrobe is as highly anticipated as evictions themselves, making Sunday nights a parade of culture, nostalgia, and fashion experimentation. This year, more than fourteen well-crafted outfits, Ebuka re-established himself not only as a host but as a cultural storyteller. His style choices were an homage to music, film, political, and pop culture icons, blending memory and contemporaneous tailoring in a way no one else does.
With the help of a familiar team of Nigerian designers, ATAFO, Ugo Monye, Deco_D29, Ti Nathan, and Deji & Kola, Ebuka’s fashion for this season was built around one idea: rebirthing. Each look was a tribute to someone or something that contributed to the essence of Nigerian-ness. What made it even more powerful was the manner in which each look seemed authentic to him. He dressed history, but history never dressed him.
The season kicked off on a lighthearted and nostalgic note. Ebuka borrowed from Nkem Owoh’s classic Osuofia style, a style that played around with rural comedy fashion conventions but elevated them through quality tailoring. It was his argument: we could be strange and classy at the same time. The following week, he transitioned to highlife and juju music, adopting a King Sunny Ade-inspired look that emphasised rhythm and energy in its styling. By his third outing, he was sporting a newspaper-print two-piece tipping its hat to Prince Nico Mbarga, composer of “Sweet Mother,” now reworked as a modern fashion statement, winking, bold, and knowing.
When Ebuka brought his camera eye to politics, he did so with restraint and dignity. His. greeting Chief Festus Okotie-Eboh brought to mind the charm of Nigeria’s founding fathers, a nod to political style in a time when drama and dignity shared an closet. Next week, his look whispered Oliver de Coque, the flamboyant highlife singer who made sequins sexy and every public appearance feel like a theatre. Red beads, heavy embroidery, and the spirit of an Igbo chief were woven into every seam.
There was also comedy. Ebuka reenacted one Sunday, looking back to the comedic heritage of Chinedu Ikedieze, “Aki,” for the world. It was cheeky, irreverent, and playful nostalgia. Then came fire: a vintage, red set that blazed with the spirit of Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Sensual and bold, it was not a look, but attitude. Ebuka reproduced Fela’s irreverence without the impersonating costume, capturing his essence rather than imitating it.
When he paid homage to Nollywood, he did so in the form of Chidi Mokeme, a debonair symbol of masculinity for a generation. The green blazer and black innerwear epitomised the subtle swagger of early-2000s movie heroes. The following week, his dressing went north, drawing inspiration from the Sultan of Sokoto. With royal blue cloaks featuring delicate embroidery and a matching royal blue turbah, Ebuka brought royalty to the stage, reminding people of the magnificence that is part of northern Nigerian fashion.
One of the most memorable parts of his was his pay homage to Richard Mofe-Damijo. With his ageless elegance, RMD’s style is understated yet commanding, and Ebuka captured that same vibe in a brown suit pa a aired with a striped shirt, the epitome of modern cut and timeless formality. And then there was the evening everyone was talking about: the Obasanjo agbada evening. Ebuka mimicked the late president’s classic 1970s White House outfit, complete with an agbada, cap, and a walking stick, and the aura of a man who knows his wardrobe will make headlines. It did.
The retro sentiment continued with a disco-era flashback, flared pants, tucked-in blouse, lighthearted ornamentations, and an allusion to Nigeria’s boisterous 1970s nightlife. Zaaki Azzay, the trailblazing hip-hop icon whose torchlight had been elevated to culturalre symbol in the 1990s, was another inspiration for a look. Ebuka rocked that sentiment through a black-and-white ensemble that distilled the rebellion and creativity of pre-millennial popular culture.
The season concluded in the best possible way. For the finale, he donned two outfits that summed up the year’s entire arc: first, a dazzling black, red, and white getup taken from Sir Shina Peters’ Ace album, a shimmering homage to Afro-juju panache. And, for the final takeoff, a regal white cloak topped with a leopard-print vest, coral beads, and a crown, a simple homage to Pete Edochie. It was Ebuka, in his most cinematic guise, a mix of king, cinematic icon, and modern man.
From all fourteen looks, the common strand was respect. Ebuka’s aesthetics are not accidental; they’re a chronicling in fashion. Each look is a love letter to a character or era that shaped Nigeria’s cultural consciousness. They all form a visual treatise on how fashion can be historical without loss of contemporaneity.
And maybe that is the brilliance of it. Ebuka doesn’t only dress well, he translates culture. He understands how clothing can form a language, and how a perfectly cut outfit can bridge generations. His selections this season reminded audiences that style in Nigeria has always been storytelling, and that the past, when dressed correctly, never goes out of style.
