For Davina Efetie, Extraordinary Dressing Is a Matter of Curiosity

You think you know a garment until you see it on this Nigerian stylist. Her advice? Give it another look.

I’ve struggled to pinpoint when exactly I came across Davina Efetie’s Instagram page, but what matters more is that none of her outfits have escaped my notice since following her. You’d have thought she studied art history (her actual major was criminal justice), the way she takes an idea—a question—to her clothes and comes up with something new: stripping a preppy, striped shirt down to a mere print with a strong-shouldered blazer and sculpted trousers, for example; or her signature stockings-and-low-heel with a long skirt; the fur sash that adds to her outfit just the right dosage of sumptuousness for, you guessed it, a morning commute to work.

You think you know a garment until you see it on Davina, and then you’re back at square one, rethinking all you were made to believe it means. You might even start listing the stuff you sold or gave away because you didn’t know how to tweak it. And so the next time you find yourself there, toss every preconception out the window and ask (yourself/her), “What would Davina do?” Below, the Tibi stylist and I talk all about how she does it.

JULIAN: You really go against the grain with your style. That’s part of why I love the way you dress. 

DAVINA: Every day I'm challenging notions that are being put out, because when we talk about style philosophies and theories, they're very narrow at times. The first reason I fell in love with the creative pragmatism philosophy was the rule of individualism. One of her [Amy Smilovic, founder and creative director of Tibi] quotes is “There are different ways to express yourself: you can do it in written form, you can do it visually, or when you speak.” 

I find myself to be a very introverted person, very shy. It takes a while for me to open up to people. But one thing that I have been rooted in or found happiness and expression in is my style. The way I describe it is even if you don't know me, and you see me from five blocks away, I hope what I'm wearing is able to tell a story, to bring some curiosity. Like, “oh, I would never pair that with this.” 

But I have also tapped into the emotional aspect of styling because a lot of people don't understand how it can bring a lot of serotonin, and that individualism is translated in different forms, in different human beings. We should appreciate what people choose to wear even when we don't agree with it. I also admire confidence. 

Expressing your style gives you that voice. 

Yeah, and if you wear an interesting piece, that does become a point of conversation. Then all of a sudden we realize we have this shared interest in fashion or culture or whatever it is. 

Where do your aesthetic inclinations come from? Is it cultural? 

A big part of me is Nigerian. I was born in the States, but I grew up in Nigeria. I came here four years ago for college. But growing up, I always wanted to be in fashion. I would be the girl in class drawing models. I was intrigued by what my aunties were going to wear to church on Sunday, why they decided to pair things together. 

Back home is just full of color and proportions and styles. And I tell people, “Western world designers can create something with so much volume, but just wait ‘til you go to your local Nigerian tailor.” We have little resources [in Nigeria], but such an eye. What seems like a fabulous day on a red carpet is your typical Sunday service there. And the prints and patterns are normal for us. We’re bold. We’re confident. We don’t play. That has rooted me in my style choices. 

I saw the Africa Fashion Exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum, and learned so much about West Africa in particular. I didn't realize how common it is to see a bespoke tailor, to wait for something to be made for you. It changes the way you think about shopping, here in the West. But I want to ask you about this immense sense of pride we see throughout African culture. How does that overlap with style and status—and flaunting it? I'm assuming it looks different there than in the States.

A lot of the time it was about who had the most expensive aso ebi, which is basically a garment you’d probably buy for an event, or, again, anything. That is where status and style came in. And being Nigerian, I can tell, of all the beautiful prints and fabrications, which is the least and most expensive from the density of it. 

Tell me about your approach to shopping.

I'm very expressive. I discussed this with my friend earlier and she asked, “What makes you feel OK to leave the house and feel like yourself?” That’s something I'm still trying to figure out because when I'm getting dressed, it’s a mind, body and soul thing. I’ve become very intrigued about having things that are classic with a twist. Like, I'm a normal human being, but there’s a bit of curiosity to me, and people around me can attest that that’s who I am. For example, let’s say I’m looking for a black heel. I would want a croc detail because that’s interesting; knowing it's not a regular black heel makes it special to me. And I love a good asymmetrical skirt. 

Working at Tibi has opened my mind to proportions and seeing how that one little thing can transform your outfit. Something Amy [of Tibi] is good at is the technical design of the clothes. You can have seams that have snaps at the bottom and it changes the silhouette. That’s what I gravitate toward—something I can shake up, manipulate or that complements the basics I wear in the day. I shop with the intention of showing my best forward, my style and being who I am. 

A favorite garment you own? 

I would need to go to my wardrobe and see what piece I adore the most, but I have a little gele, the traditional headwear for us back in Nigeria. In the summer, I almost wore it with all my outfits. I’m happy to have it with me 'cause I'm far away from home. 

What boxes does a garment need to tick for you to buy it?

I have to have this instant emotional connection to it. That's something I have discovered with the pieces I've bought. I take this seriously, how I present myself. And not in a showy way, but in a way where I can, as I said, tell a story or just be poetic. The pieces I’ve bought recently have this technical design that sparks curiosity even within myself, like how a button will be placed there, or that a skirt is ruched in this way. That’s how I see a product. 

Can you name a few things that inform your philosophy when it comes to styling? For example, Tonne Goodman is big on crafting a uniquely American image. Where do you stand? 

Juxtaposition. Irony. Being able to create something against the norms of what people usually see, whether with myself or another person. That things don't have to be as they are. Contrast. Just playing with it. I was with my mom one day and she asked me why I dress this way, why I can’t just dress normal.

[She asked] “Why do you always have safety pins everywhere? Are you sure people would accept you?” And it's like, why do I need everyone to accept me? I'm not worried about that. The right people will come and the right people will understand. If you wear something true to yourself…as long as you wear it with pride, it will seem normal because it's you embodying that silhouette, embodying the way you chose to show up that day. I don’t want to look normal. 

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Davina was kind enough to let me share this post-interview correspondence, inspired by our discussion on the dynamics of luxury fashion consumption in Black America and West Africa:

"Hi Julian,

In light of the recent news regarding the next POTUS, I hope this email finds you well. I felt compelled to write to you as I’ve been pondering one of the topics we discussed. You mentioned the label trend and how Black Americans often use it as a way to establish or signal their status in society. I’ve been reflecting deeply on this; it has served as a welcome distraction from the political climate, and putting my thoughts into words helps me articulate them better.

I brought up what status looked like in Nigeria in a traditional sense, especially regarding the way people dressed for various events in aso ebi or Ankara(traditional or native wear). In that setting, it was easy to discern where people stood on the social and financial ladder. But this raised another thought: since we don’t wear traditional clothes every day, what does status look like for the typical Nigerian in their everyday style?

I imagine myself back home, placing myself in a central location where I can observe all social classes. I’m not picturing the ones who pridefully wear traditional Ankara-silhouttes; rather, I’m picturing a man in a plain white shirt with “Gucci” boldly displayed across the chest (real or fake), distressed Amiri jeans (real or fake), and a Louis Vuitton sling bag (real or fake). The same goes for the woman but I imagine the same manner of shirt and bottoms of choice with a Chanel purse. There’s nothing wrong with this (I too would like to own a Chanel purse someday)—people like what they like—but I would argue that many of these “style choices” stem from Nigeria’s past and ongoing economic struggles. Perhaps it’s a coping mechanism, a way for people to validate who they are or who they aspire to be.

This also ties into the emotional aspect of what style means. People like you and I are probably among the few who genuinely care to unravel the layers behind these choices, and it’s valid to do so. We are confident in our own style but continue to learn who we are each day. Labels don’t define us; we’re not limited by the brand of a product. When we strip away the labels, what’s left? To some, the journey of discovery to that question could be rather tumultuous and eye opening while others may simply not just care. 

..... I was inspired by our chat and wanted to share something that might bring more agreement to a facet of the ridiculously great topic you brought up.

Please remember to self-preserve during these challenging times. It is well with our country. 

All the best, Davina"

(November 7, 2024)