Nobody taught you to have taste. You just have it.
You know when something looks right. You know when a character walks into a scene and the whole film shifts because of what they’re wearing. You know when someone steps onto a red carpet and the room changes. You can’t always explain it, but you feel it immediately, and once you feel it, you can’t unfeel it.
That’s fashion. That’s film. And honestly? That’s Lagos on a good day.
These two things have been running the world quietly for longer than most art forms that get more credit. Because fashion and film don’t ask you to pay attention, they just make you. A great costume does the same thing a great scene does. It bypasses every logical part of your brain and goes straight to the part that responds. You’re not thinking, “wow, that’s good storytelling.” You’re just moved. Convinced. Sold. And you don’t even know when it happened.
Which is why when these two things decide to fully commit to each other, the result is almost unfair to everything else.
The Devil Wears Prada did it in 2006 and rewired an entire generation. Twenty years later, the sequel walked back in and said we’re not done talking.
And genuinely? The conversation is better this time.
Miranda Priestly is back. And if you thought you had her figured out from the first film, the sequel has something to say about that. The characters you fell in love with or loved to hate are all back, too, and none of them are who they were. Life happened. Careers evolved. Power shifted. The industry changed. And everybody in that film is dealing with the gap between who they thought they’d become and who they actually are.
That’s what makes it so watchable. It’s dressed beautifully because, of course, it is, but underneath all of it, it’s really asking the same questions fashion has always asked. Who are you deciding to be? What are you willing to wear to tell the world that? And when everything around you changes, what do you hold onto?
The Devil Wears Prada has always understood that fashion is never just about the clothes. The sequel just says it louder.
And then Lagos.
April 29th. Filmhouse IMAX Lekki. The Nigerian premiere of one of the most fashion-forward film franchises ever made.
Listen. You already know how Lagos does these things. But this one felt different because the assignment wasn’t just “look good.” The assignment was to respond to a film that is literally about what fashion means. And Lagos responded.
Akin Faminu in a cowrie shell vest that could only have come from one place in the world. Stephanie Coker in Fruché white and satin black, sharp and sculptural, the kind of look that makes you realise structure is its own kind of confidence. Idia Aisien. Nicole Chikwe. Mai Atafo, in tailoring, reminded everyone that tailoring is a whole conversation by itself.
Nobody was performing. That was the thing. Every look felt like a decision, not a display. Lagos fashion at its best doesn’t chase anything; it just shows up as itself and lets that be enough. And on a night built around a film about exactly that identity, confidence, what you wear when you know exactly who you are, it landed perfectly.
The South Africans were online comparing their red carpet to ours by the next morning. We’ll leave that there.
The premiere was one night. The film is still here.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is showing at Filmhouse Cinemas right now, and this is genuinely one of those films that needs the full experience. The big screen, the sound, the seats, the whole thing.
Fashion and Film. They’ve always been the greatest F’s.
Now you know why.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is now showing at Filmhouse Cinemas. Get your tickets.