Kenneth Ize | Apartamento

Kenneth Ize wears his heart, and his art, on his sleeve. The Lagos-based fashion designer is like a bundle of twinkling light bursting with electric sparks and raw love. During even the most casual of conversations, he can’t help but express his true feelings and beliefs, and this same emotional authenticity runs through his collections as well. Predominantly created from his bespoke hand-woven textiles based on aso oke—a traditional Yoruba fabric that translates as ‘top cloth’—his silky, spirited confections balance beautifully bright colours with elegantly simple tailoring, each design inspired by the ones he holds most dear.

Born in Nigeria, Ize moved to rural Austria with his family aged four. His parents encouraged his evident creativity and he went on to study fashion at the University of Applied Arts in Vienna, completing his BA under Bernhard Willhelm and MA under Hussein Chalayan. He moved back to Lagos to officially launch his eponymous label in 2016 and has since landed prestigious stockists worldwide, as well as establishing a presence at Paris Fashion Week. The designer was shortlisted for the 2019 LVMH Prize and can also boast of fans such as Naomi Campbell, Donald Glover, and Beyoncé.

But all this fanciness aside, all Ize really cares about is creating genuine clothes that benefit both those who wear them and those artisans who make them. This single-minded attitude is reflected in his quiet Lagos lifestyle, one centred on his warm home-cum-studio. Greenery flourishes in every corner, a pair of heddle looms stand pride of place, conjuring their daily warp and weft magic, and his hammock provides a place for do-not-disturb contemplation away from the hubbub of the city street outside.

I can’t recall where he and I first met, but it was most likely on a dimly lit Lagos dancefloor at an ungodly hour—a fashion week after-party circa 2014-ish. Or it might have been at Alára, the city’s most conceptual luxury store, where his signature scarves and immaculate, single-breasted jackets sell like hot cakes. There have been many such encounters since. But on this most recent occasion—a bright and breezy day in London—we’re in a members’ bar, sipping tap water and getting down to the serious business of putting the world to rights.

So where’s home in Lagos?
I live in Yaba, on the mainland, a neighbourhood in the oldest part of the city where a lot of the colonial buildings are. It’s near the university, and about four minutes’ drive from Makoko [a large, waterside slum]. I’m in a ‘60s apartment, so it has a cool architectural feel. I’ve got white walls, a big balcony, and a terrazzo floor that I love so much. And my building has 24-hour electricity, which is unusual for a Nigerian home. When I first moved in two years ago, I slept on the street outside for the first night just to survey my area. I know that sounds crazy.

Yes, it sounds very crazy.
I didn’t know the neighbourhood, so I stayed inside my car all night to observe what happens on my street—what I was getting myself into. It was very quiet. So the second night I went inside but left the lights on and the door open. And on the third night I slept in one of the rooms and I woke up very nice. I am very spiritual about the way I live, so for me it was important. Let me just see how it feels. After that I knew it had a great energy.

Was it a way to bless your home?
No, it was more about mixing with the people and feeling safe. In Nigeria, when a middle-class person mixes with a lower-class person, anything you do can appear intimidating, so I wanted everyone to understand me and the work that I do. Now, if anyone is asking after me, everyone knows where I live. And even though I often have a grumpy face, they know I’m just having a bad day. I have my studio at home too, where I work with two tailors and an assistant. One of my tailors lives with me. I didn’t invite him, but one day he just moved in. But it’s helpful. He takes on responsibilities, and if there are any problems, he handles them for me.

Are you a minimalist or maximalist?
I like it easy. Germans would say lebendig. I want my home to have a human feel, like there’s someone living in this space. It’s chilled, relaxed, no stress.

And you have pets.
Yes. I adore my pets. I’ve got an American Eskimo called Cosmo. He’s the love of my life. He is just so adorable, and he knows when I’m upset. I’m erratic, I can just flip sometimes, and when I do it’s better to let me be until I get back to normal. So when that happens, Cosmo will stand on the perimeter of my room and won’t come in or bark. I also have a parrot called Axel, who is named after my business partner, Axel Berner-Eyde, who is my right-hand man.

Axel is a sexy name.
He’s sexy as fuck. My studio assistant tries to teach the parrot Wizkid songs when I’m away. But when I’m around, I take Axel to my room and play bird music to him at night. He really likes it and I find it relaxing, too. I used to have a rabbit called Bonny as well, but he died. Rest in peace, Bonny. If I had a chance to have a big garden, I would go wild with pets.

Lagos is the most populous city in Africa and has a reputation for being equal parts entrepreneurial, extreme, and overwhelming. What do you want people to know about the Lagos hustle?
What I want people to know from my experience is that Lagos is a rollercoaster. That’s just the way it is. And you should know that Nigerians have a different aura, a different charisma. We might sound loud and aggressive, but we’re not being angry. I’m so happy I moved here three years ago, because as a person I’ve grown so much and know exactly what I want. Now I know there’s nothing I can’t do if I set my mind to it.

How do you let your hair down in Lagos?
When I’m home, I’m in my studio and I’m working. But I go out lots and the first thing I want to have is a shot of tequila. I’ve created my own scene with friends in Lagos. We go for drinks at Nok on Fridays, and we have a lot of house parties. They invite me for lunch and dinner on the weekends because they know I don’t have family in Lagos, so they’re my family. But when I go to clubs, I don’t see people who look like me.

You mean there’s no gay scene?
Yes, and it’s tiring for me. The gay men in society here have a lot of power to change things, but they don’t. What are they ashamed about? I get that it’s a personal decision, but none of the people I look up to and would expect to take that stand have done it, you know?

Same-sex relationships are illegal and punishable with prison sentences of up to 14 years in Nigeria. It’s understandable that people might be scared to come out publicly. Are you?
I am not. Why should I be scared? I’m not even one of the most elitist kids in Nigeria, but I can only speak for myself when I say that I am not afraid; I could be arrested and there will be a discussion. Let’s talk about it. It’s a democracy.

Life in Lagos is a far cry from Austria. Let’s talk about your studies.
I was so excited to walk through the doors into school every day. It was an open environment to try things out, and I had people around me who I could relate to. I enjoyed studying under Bernhard Willhelm, who is a crazy person. He taught me about the quality of clothes and how to be honest and truthful. He wants you to stand by yourself and believe that your opinion matters.

Hussein Chalayan pushed me to discover myself, become self-aware, and decide what I wanted to be. I was also thinking about where I wanted my clothes to be made and how I could create job opportunities for people. Then I did an internship at Edun, a label based in New York that ethically produces in Africa, which helped me realise my business plan. It’s all done in Europe, so let me go back home and focus on building something there.

There’s a romancing around the idea of African artisans in fashion. What’s the real deal?
It’s become a trend, but I don’t use that phrase ‘artisanal skills’. We’re interpreting old narratives and cultures and ideas. If I can have a hold on it, I will work with it. For me it’s important to diversify from the classic hand-loomed fabric, the aso oke, so that we’re developing more advanced skills for the artisans making the cloth. As a designer, as an educator, I need to know their story and how they work. I want them to have security and the knowledge that what they’re doing has a future. I want them to realise their worth. It’s not easy. Most local artisans do not have a background in education, which means that understanding each other can be difficult. And I do shout at my staff, like all Nigerians do, but there’s a way to communicate. One of my tailors had never had a birthday cake, so I got him one and he cut it, and that little gesture meant something. It’s about creating opportunities for people.

What is your aso oke story?
I was maybe eight years old and I remember very well this aso oke fabric that my mum wore as a gele, or head wrap, to a party. It was made from black, grey, and orange silk yarns. During my years of studying I kept remembering this fabric, so when I went to Lagos in-between degrees, I asked around and found this lady weaver, Rafiat. We did some weaving, I took the cloth back to Vienna and made my graduate collection out of it, which went really well. She’s now my queen bee. She’s amazing. We’ve been working together for six years.

It must be an incredible thrill to be able to breathe new life into such a prestigious heritage cloth.
I like to experiment a lot with techniques and colours, which is instinctual, and I’m always making improvements. My queen bee makes the samples and then I get the main production done by some male weavers in Ilorin. They can make 60 yards in two days. We use silk and cotton yarns that I source from Japan, the UK, and Switzerland, because you can’t get those things in Nigeria.

What inspires you to design?
I’m inspired by my friends, by travel, by love—love is the strongest word that keeps me pushing. If you love yourself, you should be able to love others. And if I can love the people I make clothes for, then it will be something unique.

Your collection for AW19 is delicious.
It started with me thinking about how my parents used to buy our Christmas clothes in September and it was always a big deal. My mum would measure me and my brother with a broomstick, then buy fabric, ask us what styles we wanted, and the tailor would make them for us.

Did you enjoy this experience?
I loved it so much. I wish I was still living in that time. I remember the last festive outfit I received. She bought some linen, which was becoming trendy in Nigeria at that time, and I asked the tailor to cut out lots of holes and have them sewed onto the front. It was black and white with circles everywhere. So this collection was about saving something for such a long time, then only getting to wear it on one special day, with all your family around you. There’s something special about what I do, in that I get to tell stories and I have so many to tell from my childhood and my extended family. When I’m designing, it’s so close to me and how I feel.

How did your mother get dressed for these occasions?
When we were in Nigeria, she’d have a ram killed for Christmas. So she’d enjoy dressing up like the guys who came to do it, who wore these Carhartt-style khakis.

That’s genius.
I know. It’s like, ‘I’m going to be butch like these men’. So, in this collection, we have that style of carpenter pants and lots of workwear, thanks to my mum. We’ve also played around with colours and tried transforming scarves into shirts. I like to keep the silhouettes simple. I want them to be timeless pieces that you’ll still relate to 20 years from now. And because so many women have been wearing the men’s pieces, this season we’re also launching our first full womenswear line. Now anybody can wear these clothes, which is beautiful. I’m grateful for that.

What does African luxury mean to you?
In my view, African luxury is something that’s made without anyone having to feel less human. It’s something that’s not destructive. If you’ve taken the time to learn about something and create something, and you are making a process better, then that’s luxury to me. In Africa we’re in a space of redefining what luxury could be. What the future could be. We haven’t done a lot, but a lot is about to happen.

There’s been much interest in the Lagos creative scene of late. Does it live up to the hype?
The Art X Lagos art fair is amazing. I love what Tokini Peterside has done with it; she’s creating an opportunity for people to see what art is here and what it’s worth. And Alára is my home; it’s like that fashion friend who you talk to all the time. It’s an open space where I feel rescued and can connect. But, in general, the creative scene in Lagos does not inspire me right now. It is too digital, too scroll. Everything goes out too fast, there’s too much hype and too much Insta love. I feel like people need to back up a bit and give us space to think. Without that we can’t make a difference.

That sounds so gloomy.
I have to be honest. But I do believe in the young kids. They are looking at what my generation is doing, but they’re already confident and have their own perspectives, which is amazing. I’m excited to see what they will be coming up with in 10 years’ time. When the youth of a country is doing great and fun things then that gives me hope.

What is the big picture for you and your label?
I want to be the brand coming out of Africa that’s on everybody’s doorstep—that’s on all the best store racks. I want it so bad. It’s not just about me or my name; it’s bigger than that. It’s a tough job that feeds families, that supports the men and women making these pieces, so I want to see success in my work because it’s all coming from the heart.

Photography: Lakin Ogunbanwo
Publication: Apartamento