The smell of indigo fills the air in Abeokuta. Hands move quickly, tying, dipping, rinsing, and revealing patterns so beautiful that they look almost painted. Somewhere in Lagos, a young designer is cutting that same fabric into a sleek jacket. And then a few days later on Instagram, a celebrity posts a photo wearing Adire with a proud caption: Made in Nigeria.

Suddenly, Adire is everywhere again.

From Oshodi markets to fashion week runways, the swirls of indigo and white have found their way back into the heart of the Nigerian fashion industry

Adire, which means “tie and dye” in Yoruba, is not just cloth; it is history made visible. For generations, Yoruba women created it by hand, using thread, raffia, and natural indigo dye to form patterns that told stories. Each design had its own meaning, some marked love, family, or faith, others celebrated status or personal triumph. Back then, wearing Adire was like wearing an identity.

Then, over the years, came mass production, synthetic fabrics, and a wave of Western influence that pushed local crafts to the background. Slowly, Adire faded from everyday life, remembered mostly by older women or worn for traditional events. But times are changing.

Now, a new generation is bringing it back, with boldness and pride. Nigerian designers are reinventing Adire in ways our grandmothers never imagined, think cropped tops, wide-leg pants, sneakers, and even formal wear.

Take Amaka Osakwe, the creative mind behind Maki Oh, for instance. She has taken Adire far beyond Nigeria’s borders, transforming it into high fashion that blends tradition with modern femininity. Her designs have been worn by the likes of Michelle Obama, Beyoncé, and Lupita Nyong’o, women who embody strength, culture, and confidence. Wearing Adire, made by a Nigerian designer, was a proud moment that shows African craftsmanship can sit confidently beside the world’s best.

Then there is Lisa Folawiyo, who has a gift for merging local fabrics with luxury detailing. Her take on Adire is sleek, beaded, and undeniably contemporary. She proves that our indigenous prints can be worn at red-carpet events, business meetings, and even international fashion weeks.

You also have younger creatives, such as Belois Couture, Kkerele Studios, and Temitope Adesina, who are reimagining Adire in streetwear and minimalist fashion, giving it an edge that appeals to Gen Z. 

And back home, Adire makers in Abeokuta, Ibadan, and Lagos are feeling the ripple effect. Orders are increasing. Dye pits are busy again. Communities that once struggled to keep the craft going are now training young apprentices and exporting their designs.

Of course, this resurgence comes with its challenges, from cheap imitations to environmental concerns, but it also opens doors for dialogue on sustainable fashion and cultural ownership. Adire, at its core, is sustainable, handmade, hand-dyed, and made to last. 

Adire stands tall as a style that is rooted in something meaningful.

The next time you come across somebody sporting Adire, be it in a daring two-piece, in a smooth kimono, or a fashionable handbag, stop and adopt it. Such a trend is not merely a style, but a tradition, it has returned in colour and certainty.

Adire has been in a circle around its mothers, around the market, around the world, and this time it is not going away.

Anita Chinedu