Oroma Cookey-Gam Itegboje founded her first fashion brand, Alali, during her NYSC in 2010. She sourced deadstock fabrics from the markets to make contemporary fashion pieces, but as the brand grew, it became increasingly challenging to build a business based on that model. Eventually, she stepped away, returning to law at Shell before moving on to roles at Ermenegildo Zegna and Alara.
Osione Itegboje, a multidisciplinary artist, took a different path. Though he studied marketing and economics at Baylor University in Texas, it was his early interactions with GQ magazine that sparked an interest in style and fashion, leading to his first foray into fashion in 2009 when a friend asked him to help with the launch of Haute Fashion Africa, an African Fashion magazine.
Both naturally drawn to the arts, they met, pretended friendship was all it was (as one does), fell in love, and decided to build something together. That something became THIS IS US—not just a fashion brand, though their T-shirts have become staples among photographers, artists, and other people who don’t dress as boringly as most of us do. Instead, they envisioned a lifestyle brand dedicated to producing made-in-Nigeria goods, from clothing to furniture and even film.
To ensure consistency, they sourced a local fabric they could always access—Funtua, a Nigerian-grown cotton. Oroma took on the role of Creative Director, while Osi became Art Director.
In this week’s #MadeinNigeria, they reflect on the significance of fashion shows, the challenges of sustainable fashion, and why the world is suddenly paying attention to Nigerian designers.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Why are fashion shows important in the Nigerian context?
Oroma: A fashion show is always important because presentation in fashion is crucial. We don’t typically do fashion shows, mainly because, from the start, we’ve never positioned ourselves as a fashion brand. Even today, I’d love to argue that we still aren’t—but at this point, I don’t know if I can make that argument anymore, so I won’t bother.
That said, we haven’t followed the typical route of a fashion brand. But in general, a fashion show allows you to fully present a collection and immerse the audience in the world it’s coming from.
In the Nigerian context—and honestly, in any context—a fashion show is important because it’s the first opportunity to define who the clothes are for and the kind of people they’ll attract. The makeup choices, the personalities on the runway—these elements all play a role.
Abroad, there are so many other steps in the chain—trade fairs, markets, different industry events—but in Nigeria, we don’t have as many of those. Fashion shows are one of the few ways a brand can present itself in a complete way. With the runway, the music, and the atmosphere, a brand gets to create its own little world for 15 minutes, and that helps define its identity.
Also, if you think about it, the people who attend these shows are the first influencers. Not everyone gets to see the show firsthand, but these early adopters are key—if you make an impact on them, they’ll want your pieces. The magazines, the fashion insiders—they all play a part.
So, at the end of the day, it’s just an important step.
I asked that question because, in Nigeria, it’s sometimes hard to see its utility. Sometimes, the clothes have been in the public domain for a while. But also, I’m not sure it translates to sales or even meaningful feedback from the local media.
Osi: I think fashion is usually a vision of the future. Designers are constantly defining what tomorrow will look like—what we’re going to wear, how trends will evolve.
Even when certain pieces don’t end up in stores, the ideas are still planted in our minds. The imagery stays with us, shaping how people look and dress. That’s why runway shows are so important—you see the models wearing the clothes, you see how they move, and sometimes, you get a coherent story.
If you tried to tell that same story in another format—like a documentary or a film—it wouldn’t have the same effect.
Oroma: You can do a film but maybe only five pieces would make it into the entire movie. But a fashion show allows you to present the whole story of the collection.
When you look at how one piece transitions into the next, you can almost see how the designer’s mind was working—how their ideas developed and took shape. You get to see the full vision all at once.
And in just 15 minutes, you’ve lived in that world.
I think the timing of fashion shows is crucial to how the industry works. The schedule dictates when trends are introduced, how they trickle down, and when they reach consumers.
The timing of fashion shows is crucial to how the industry works because they bring everyone together. You have London Fashion Week, New York Fashion Week, Milan Fashion Week—all these events where buyers, influencers, media, and magazines gather, usually twice a year.
Everything is organized in a way that allows the entire industry to be part of the moment. And right after the shows, the buying process begins. Once buyers have seen the collections on the runway and feel gingered, they head to the showrooms in the following days to purchase what they liked for their stores. It’s all interconnected.
After that, the pieces go into production, followed by the sales cycle. Once that cycle winds down, the next collection is presented, keeping everything moving in an organized and structured way.
Another reason you sometimes see things on the runway but not in stores is that the runway allows for the creation of strong, image-driven pieces. These are often exaggerated, extreme versions of a designer’s vision—not necessarily meant for everyday wear, but designed to make a statement and solidify the brand’s aesthetic.
These pieces exist primarily to convey the mood and identity of the collection. They might not make it to stores, but they serve a purpose in defining the designer’s vision. You might see them again at major events like the Grammys, but they’re not the kind of pieces you can just walk in and buy. Still, they’re crucial for shaping the overall image of the brand.
Why did you decide to use Funtua cotton to make the pieces from THIS IS US?
Oroma: We didn’t start THIS IS US with the intention of creating just another fashion brand. Like I mentioned before, I’ve always seen the brand differently. Before this, I had Alali, but after a while, I stopped because I wanted to learn more about both fashion and its business. That led me to Milan, where I spent a couple of years immersed in a culture that values craft and heritage. Naturally, I absorbed a lot while I was there.
Even before Milan, I had already started feeling disconnected from the way I was working with textiles. With Alali, I was sourcing deadstock fabric from the market—essentially leftover sample fabrics that couldn’t be reordered once they ran out. While that approach had its advantages, I didn’t feel connected to the fabrics themselves. It felt like I was piecing together my designs using textiles that weren’t truly mine, borrowing from someone else’s creative process rather than shaping my own.
So, I paused. When I came back, I was working in oil and gas, and at some point, I had the idea of making a white shirt collection. I love shirts, and I started to toy with the idea of Alali again.
But I wanted to source my cotton locally. I assumed it would be easy—just walk into the market and ask for plain white cotton, right? But that was far from the reality.
I didn’t want the usual sample fabrics; I wanted something I could use consistently and reorder when I needed more. But every time I asked for local cotton, the vendors would pull out Italian, Moroccan, or Turkish options. When I pressed further, it became clear that local cotton simply wasn’t part of the equation. They kept insisting, “This is the best we have.” It was like the idea of Nigerian cotton didn’t even exist in that space.
So, when I kept asking for local cotton in the market, the vendors would just direct me elsewhere—sending me on a wild goose chase. I’d go where they suggested and still find nothing. At that point, I thought, “Okay, maybe local cotton exists, but I just haven’t found it yet.”
At the time, Osi and I were friends—or were we? Yeah, we were friends. “Wait… were we?” No, actually, we were dating. For sure, we were already dating. I remember sharing my frustration with him, and he was just as shocked—he couldn’t believe there was no local cotton available. So we started brainstorming, trying to figure out what was really going on.
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At some point, I started considering taking a trip to Turkey or Morocco to source cotton directly. I didn’t want to deal with the stress of using something I couldn’t consistently find. If I was going to build something, I needed to know I could always access the materials. So we started planning that trip… and then I got pregnant.
So yeah, we were definitely not just friends.
Around that same time, though, we had already started researching local cotton. Osi spoke to a designer friend of ours, Niyi Okuboyejo of Post Imperial, and he told us that the cotton his dyers use is called Funua cotton. He thought it came from somewhere around Osogbo and suggested we visit his dyer there to learn more. It seemed like a long shot, but since we hadn’t found anything in Lagos, we figured, “Why not?”
So we took a trip to Osogbo. That’s really where the journey started. I had already come into this process with a mindset of wanting to use something sustainable—something I could always access. So we were ready to go deeper into the search for a textile that made sense for us.
Looking back, it’s funny because this wasn’t even a serious business venture yet. It wasn’t like someone told me, “Oh, if you make this white shirt collection, you’ll make $500,000.” It was just a project I wanted to do because I felt drawn to it. But, of course, this wonderful man humoured me, and off we went to Osogbo in search of cotton.
That trip set everything in motion. We eventually found some cotton in the market and started asking, “Where does this come from?” We kept following that trail—questioning, searching—until it led us all the way to northern Nigeria, still trying to track down the source.
When we finally found the source of the cotton, the next question became: “How do we process this in a way that’s beautiful and true to us?” Yes, I initially wanted it for white shirts, but when I saw the fabric in its raw form, I knew people wouldn’t just wear it as it was. It was undyed, untreated—not like the polished Italian cotton you’d find in high-end stores. It needed something more.
The cotton was gorgeous, but it still had specks in it—it wasn’t perfect. It had a raw, natural look, which I personally loved and would wear as a shirt, but we had to think: “How do we process this if we want to use it at scale?”
That question led us to Kano. I remember Googling and coming across the ancient dye pits, and I thought, “This looks really interesting—if this exists, it’s definitely worth seeing in person.”
So, we took a trip to Kano. That’s where we discovered natural indigo dye—made from plants, crafted through a centuries-old process that has been passed down for over 500 years.
It was such a beautiful and perfect story. We couldn’t believe something this rich in history and tradition still existed.
What is the process of refining the cotton?
Oroma: That’s a good question, but honestly, it’s quite sad. Right now, Nigeria’s textile industry is at an all-time low. Farmers are still growing cotton, but there aren’t many places left to refine it.
We found one mill—one of the only ones still operating today. There may be others producing things like Ankara prints, but the full process of refining cotton is rare now. Traditionally, you take raw cotton from the plant, gin it, spin it into soft cotton wool, turn that into thread, and then weave it into fabric.
This process has been part of Nigeria’s heritage for centuries. Nigeria was known for cotton production and exports for years, which is why so many of our indigenous textiles—like adire—are made from woven cotton. It’s deeply woven (literally) into our history and culture.
Unfortunately, this tradition is fading. But it’s still there, and that’s why local dyers continue using cotton—it’s the foundation of what we wear.
Now, about indigo—indigo is a plant. When fermented in a vat with ash and other natural materials, it produces that deep blue colour. The way dyers work with it is incredibly sustainable: they create an indigo vat, and it can last anywhere from six months to five years.
It’s cost-effective because once you invest in making a vat, you don’t have to keep remaking it. The dye is reused over and over, and when it’s no longer effective, they burn the remnants and start fresh with new plants.
This method has existed for over 500 years. The indigo dye pits in Nigeria date back as far as 1498. It’s a tradition that has stood the test of time.
You said earlier that THIS IS US didn’t start out as a fashion brand. What was the plan?
Oroma: When we started, we really wanted to explore different materials. Our process has always been research-driven because, in Nigeria, we have so much, but we don’t always realize what we have. The information isn’t easily accessible. There are countless artisans and crafts, yet people rarely stop to ask where things come from. For example, growing up, many of us had those leather poofs in our homes, but no one really questioned who made them or how they were made.
From the beginning, our approach to design was rooted in deep research and collaboration with local craftspeople and materials. That was our starting point—we weren’t necessarily aiming to create multiple fashion collections. But as we explored textiles, we realized how vast and rich the field was. Nigeria has so many different fabrics, each tied to a specific culture or region. Even within the North alone, there are woven textiles, hand-dyed fabrics, and more.
So, we stayed in textiles, continuously researching and discovering new things. And naturally, as we experimented with these materials, we started using them in clothing. One thing led to another, and we found ourselves making more and more fashion pieces. That’s how we became a fashion brand.
But the reason I often say we’re not just a fashion brand is because our real goal was never strictly about fashion. What we truly wanted was to create a model for sustainable production in Nigeria. We wanted to craft things that Nigerians could see and instantly recognize—pieces that would make them proud because they were deeply connected to our heritage.
And we wanted to do this with Nigerians, for Nigerians, and for the rest of the world. That vision wasn’t tied to fashion alone. It could have been expressed through film, furniture, ceramics—anything, really. Fashion just happened to be the medium that took shape for us.
Osi: We just wanted to create in a certain way—using local materials, local craftsmanship, and local talent. And from there, take that and share it with the world.
Would you call THIS IS US a luxury brand?
Oroma: I won’t say it is, because there are many traditional codes of luxury that we don’t follow. I think the art of indigo dyeing itself carries a sense of luxury—it checks some of the boxes for what luxury should be. But I wouldn’t call this a luxury brand, no.
I think people might look at the pricing and say this is a bit too high.
Oroma: From the start, we knew we couldn’t afford to price ourselves too low because of what goes into making the clothes. We’ve always followed a consistent pricing model—the only thing that has changed over the years is the cost of materials.
For example, a shirt that cost ₦25,000 or ₦30,000 in 2017 is now around ₦50,000 or ₦60,000. It’s a really big shame because salaries aren’t increasing at the same rate, which makes it even more challenging.
But for us, paying people fairly has always been non-negotiable. There are so many different hands involved in the process, and everyone deserves to be compensated properly. It can be tempting to look at what other brands are doing, but not everyone follows our methods.
Indigo dyeing, for instance, is an incredibly slow craft. You can’t mass-produce it. One batch can take up to eight hours to dye properly, so there’s no reality where we’re churning out products like a factory in China. That naturally means we can’t sell at a low price, nor should we, because the work itself is premium.
So, while I wouldn’t call this a luxury brand, I would say the art of natural indigo dyeing is a luxury in itself. It requires patience, skill, and time. What we create is definitely premium—premium materials, premium craftsmanship, premium design.
At the heart of it all, we’ve always wanted Nigerians to feel proud wearing our pieces, to truly enjoy them. And that hasn’t changed. Nigeria is still our biggest market because this clothing is made for Nigerians. When you wear one of our dresses, you feel it—it breathes with you, keeps you cool in the heat. Honestly, it makes you wonder why anyone wears anything else.
And beyond that, it lasts. There’s real value in that.
(@thisisusng)Made-in-Nigeria fashion is becoming trendy globally. What would you say is behind this?
Osi: There are many factors at play—it’s hard to attribute this growth to just one thing. But I think Nigeria, as a country, is increasingly on the international stage. There’s a growing demand for Nigerian culture, and you can see it across different industries, especially music.
Over the years, Nigerian artists have made huge strides, not just locally but globally. And beyond music, Nigerians are incredibly influential wherever they go. We’re great representatives of our culture, whether it’s through film, food, or fashion.
You also have different players who’ve taken the time to build and evolve these industries. And importantly, we have a market in Nigeria—people who actively consume and sustain this culture. That domestic demand keeps things alive, while the diaspora also plays a big role. Nigerians are good at making noise and drawing attention to what we do, and that visibility drives even more global interest.
It’s only natural that fashion is experiencing the same boom. But if you examine each cultural sector closely, you’ll see that there are unique forces at play. Take fashion, for example—Lagos Fashion Week has been a major force in shaping the industry. And from that, we’ve seen the rise of other platforms like GT Fashion Weekend and Arise Fashion Week, which have also made their mark internationally.
At the same time, individual brands have done exceptionally well. We’ve gained some international attention, but we’re part of a bigger movement. There are brands like Dye Labs and Obida pushing boundaries, and those that came before us—like MaKi Oh and Kenneth Ize—who have had great international moments.
Then there’s media influence: features in Vogue, key industry moments, and influential Nigerians making their mark in global fashion conversations. All of these factors come together to shape the industry into what it is today.
Oroma: Nigerian fashion isn’t just about the fabric; it’s about style, attitude, and how we put things together. But when it comes to exporting culture, it makes people reflect on what’s truly theirs. What is uniquely Nigerian? What do we have that others don’t? That shift in perspective is why so many designers are now looking inward.
At the same time, Nigerians have always had a way of taking things, making them their own, and elevating them. We don’t limit ourselves to just local materials because Nigerians, by nature, are global fashionistas. They have access to the best fabrics, the most premium materials, and they want variety. If you’re designing for that kind of person, you have to offer them what they’re used to while still infusing something uniquely Nigerian.
That’s why a lot of Nigerian fashion brands still use imported materials. But again, it’s not just about fabric—it’s about how we dress, how we style, how we innovate. Nigerian fashion is bigger than textiles.
As for why more brands are embracing local materials now, a few factors are at play. First, we all grew up surrounded by these traditional fabrics. When it comes time to create something authentic, it’s natural to look inward and use what we have. That’s what’s happening in fashion, just like in film and music. We’re still influenced by global trends, but we’re finding ways to reinterpret them using our own indigenous elements.
Another major reason is cost. The price of importing materials, especially in dollars, is extremely high right now. That financial pressure has actually worked in our favour because it encourages us to source locally, invest in our own artisans, and keep the money within our economy. If we’re paying local craftspeople to make textiles instead of importing them from China or elsewhere, it’s not just cheaper—it’s also more original.
Do you see a future where the demands for these local fabrics are met and Nigerian designers can now export large quantities?
Oroma: The future is even closer than you think. For instance, we’re already selling indigo fabric to international brands—that’s local Nigerian indigo, Nigerian textile—so this future is not just approaching; it’s already happening.
When you start seeing Nigeria on the global fashion stage that Osi is talking about, it normalizes these elements, and the demand for them increases. I believe we can meet that demand, but it’s crucial to put the right structures in place now.
Nigeria has a massive population, and fashion exists on many different levels. There are pieces that go for ₦20,000 and under, ₦40,000 and under, ₦60,000 and under—everyone has their segment. There’s enough room for everybody.
That said, I do believe there’s still a lot of foundational infrastructure that needs to be put in place. We need to reinvest in craft systems instead of just taking from them. Proper structures must be set up to support actual craft communities—ones that can stand the test of time, maintain quality, and scale up production.
It’s possible. Countries like India and Mexico have already figured out how to modernize and sustain their textile industries while staying true to their craft. Nigeria can do the same, establishing a fashion ecosystem that is both globally competitive and locally rooted.
In the West, there are many debates around the commercialisation of these local methods of textile making. Do you worry that in a bid to meet the demand, we might lose these local techniques?
Oroma: Scaling is something I think about, but it’s definitely not something I worry about. People always ask about scaling, but I don’t see it as a race to keep growing endlessly. You scale to the point that makes sense, and after that, you optimize. You refine. You don’t just keep scaling from 10 to 100, to 1,000, to 100K, to 1 million—where are you going? Who are you selling to? What’s the purpose of it all? Who are you creating for?
I think the West created its own problems and is now trying to solve them. But in Africa—especially in our fashion and textile industry—we still have a chance to do things differently. This is where we need to put our thinking caps on and build our own systems. We don’t have to industrialize production to the point where we’re obsessed with making a million of everything. That’s not how our setup works.
We have a tailor culture. How many pieces can a tailor realistically make? Our fashion industry isn’t built for mass production, and we shouldn’t distract ourselves by forcing it in that direction. Yes, mass production is good for business, but there should always be a cap. If we start putting excessive pressure on artisans to produce faster than they naturally can, everything will break down. Before you know it, chemical dyes will start replacing traditional dyes, and we’ll lose the authenticity of our craft.
I don’t think this is our problem—yet. The reason people are screaming about sustainability is because everything is already falling apart in the West and parts of Asia. But our challenges are different. When people ask us about sustainability, we always say that Nigeria is already a very sustainable country. That’s what we tap into—the fact that we already have systems of making things in a way that is mindful and long-lasting. Instead of chasing unsustainable growth, we work with the sustainable methods that are already embedded in our culture.
Where do you see the brand in five years?
Oroma: I don’t know, it’s interesting. I see THIS IS US everywhere. I see it being a brand that isn’t in a rush—it’s one that will simmer, stew, and gradually embed itself into the culture. So in five years, I see THIS IS US being everywhere.
Right now, we’re about to launch our first-ever Rewear Drive. We’ve reached a point where we’ve sold so many pieces, and from the very beginning, we’ve been conscious of what happens to our clothes after they leave us. When we launched, we had this philosophy: Wear it with love, get rid of it with love.
We have always wanted to understand how people interact with our pieces in the long term. We make the kind of clothes that people love to wear over and over again—comfortable, everyday pieces, which is why we call them uniform wear. But beyond selling, we also want to see where these clothes go, how they’ve been worn, and how we can be part of their full life cycle.
So for the first time, we’re asking people to bring back their old garments—pieces they’ve loved, or maybe haven’t even worn that much but no longer connect with. And in return, people will now have the chance to shop pre-loved THIS IS US pieces.
I’m really excited about this for a couple of reasons. First, it makes THIS IS US accessible at a price point that makes sense for more people. I know some people love the brand but find it expensive, so this is an opportunity for them to own our pieces in a way that feels doable. Second, I’m excited to see the old pieces—how they’ve aged, how they’ve been worn, and how they’ve served people. I want to see if they’ve held up, where they’ve failed, and how they’ve become part of people’s lives.
There’s something really special about seeing a piece of clothing go through different hands and stories. I can’t wait to experience that.
Osi: Yeah, I’ve always imagined that our message would translate into other areas.
One of the things that makes the brand strong is that we create our own way of doing things—our own approach. And as we move into the future, I see some of those approaches evolving into systems that others can adopt and follow.
Beyond that, I see us using these approaches to strengthen different parts of the fashion industry’s value chain, but also the broader productive ecosystem of Nigeria.
Oroma: I definitely agree with that. I see us becoming even more embedded in the ecosystem while also being more front-facing—engaging with customers in new ways, through collaborations and the different projects we’re putting out.
THIS IS US is home, but it’s also so much more. Beyond the customer experience, I see us making a bigger impact on the value chain as well.
