It’s the one dress that most women have thought about since they were girls. At first, they don’t dwell too much on the details of their intended or even the marriage itself, just mostly on the feeling of euphoria dressed in white and being the centre of attention for a whole day.
My first experience of a wedding was at age 5. I was the (more…)
Few things convey the message of ‘put-togetherness’, poise and self-care as effortlessly as neatly painted fingernails.
My hands are dipped in soapy water many times a day; from giving underwear the dignity of a fresh wash to freeing dishes of deteriorating food crumbs, to wiping wooden surfaces so they can be free of the unwanted embrace of dirt (I had the not-so-bright-but-still-bright-nonetheless idea to insist on mostly-white furniture in dusty Lagos. Mind you, the effect is rather dazzling interior-design-wise).
Did I mention that I wash my hands near-obsessively? Yes! I am the one who sees germs and microbes crawling on doorknobs with her ordinary human eyes.
A friend and I were visiting Cape Town. By the end of a day spent doing touristy things, we were tired and quite desperate to hop into a taxi and get some rest.
We had a bit of difficulty finding a taxi stand, so we decided to ask a kind-faced South African lady.
The following conversation ensued:
Us: Hello, where can we find a Cab |KAB|, please?
Her: *puzzled look* Cab? |KAB|
Us: *big smile* Yes, a Cab |KAB| (more…)
You know how one prays feverishly that last hour before midnight on New Year’s eve? Thankfully counting their blessings, mentally reviewing the to-do list for the just-concluded year, and making determined plans for the about-to-start year?
Yes, that was me on the 31st of December 2018.
Two weeks later, I was wrapped firmly in a cast and armed with 2 steel crutches. A freak accident, that I don’t like to recount, happened. It’s a difficult memory, you see. Well, it left me with 2 fractures in my right foot. The x-ray report called it a Fifth Metatarsal fracture.
See, it got real when I clocked 30. It was a defining moment, a eureka-esque moment, an ok-this-is-me- just-as-I-am moment. The day when the not-so-little voice in my head yelled “This is my life. I have to live the best version of my life from here on, so help me God”.
I’ve pretty much found my life’s rhythm since my 30th birthday. It’s passionately sublime (can I even say that?)
Well, this is not about me! The Nedoux Sewing Club’s 30th one-day sewing workshop holds in a few days, and I amazed at my own consistency month after month after month. Running a business has taught me patience, perseverance and humour-whether-or-not-I-like-it.
Picture this! 30 volunteers racing with one goal.
Goal. 200 garments for less privileged children (Your mission, should you choose to accept it 😀 )
Squad. Cutters, Pinners, Pressers and Sewers.
Strategy. The Cutters do their bit and pass on to the Pinners. The Pinners do their bit and pass on to the Sewers. The Sewers do their bit and pass on to the Pressers.
*loud whistle sound* ARE. YOU. READY? Let the Sewing Marathon begin! Read More…
A twitter thread about the not-so-easy side of pregnancy and childbirth swept the social media streets a few weeks ago. It caused quite the whirlwind.
Well, I found it to be refreshingly honest albeit brutally disillusioning, but in a very good way. It was necessary to hear the other side of the female experience, I felt “saved” from the danger of a single story.
Recently, I’ve begun to question that I even have sufficient maternal instinct. I mean, my own mother would (more…)