KENNETH IZE His heritage is both African and European: today based in Lagos, Kenneth Ize was born in Vienna to Nigerian parents, and grew up in Austria where he attended Vienna’s famous applied-arts school, studying fashion under Hussein Chalayan and Ber

invites her friends to the house, they come with a stock of fabrics. Fashion here is something that we take seriously. What I design is luxury, but it’s almost normal here, it’s what we wear. The lace, for example, was made in Vienna. Nigerians used to travel to Austria in the 1960s to design lace fabrics. People don’t know about this. So I went to Vienna and asked to see these lace fabrics. I didn’t have to redesign them – the craft and the heritage we have can be interpreted in a modern manner.

How did your work with the weavers develop this season?

I worked with two women for three months to develop the fabrics for the collection. I wanted people to be very comfortable in understanding my clothes, because to bring something into a different community or a different country, you have to make a clear point. I designed everything with the two weavers I work with. We went back to the fabrics we’d done the past three years, and decided to take stripes from the fabrics we’ve made before and include them together. I had to take them to Italy to do that. That’s why we have to be more open to different cultures. I’m very grateful that I’ve had this mix of cultures between Europe and Africa, and that I’ve been able to use it to further my own understanding.

Naomi Campbell walked in your Nigerian show and she walked for you in Paris too. How important is such support for you?

Having Naomi Campbell’s support is unbelievable! I still can’t believe how enthusiastic she’s been. As a child I watched the videos of her walking shows, so when she walks for me, I’m like, “Is this really happening?!” It pushes me to do more and to do better, because I see that people are supporting me, they believe in what I do. The LVMH Prize was great too because I met lots of people. I’ve kept up some of the relationships I made through it, and they helped me set up my show in Paris. Those competitions are more about how people can understand you, how you can understand them as well, and build a relationship. I took part in the competition not knowing exactly how everything works – I was laughing all the time. When I stepped into the auditorium of the Fondation Louis Vuitton, I felt proud because I knew I was representing a lot of people: my weavers, my family, my community, people like me…

You design for both men and women. Is that an obvious choice? I design what I feel is right, and I really believe in my instinct. I started with menswear at school. It was easier for me to explain, because it’s me, it’s what I want to wear. I’m a queer man, and I have flexibility and a desire to wear things that are experimental. As a young adult at school, I experimented with that because I was finding myself. Now, anytime I’m doing a collection, I don’t really think whether a girl or a boy is going to wear it. The first time I did womenswear, I did a dress because I wanted to see what I could do with a dress. But then I thought, “No, I’m just going to do what my instinct tells me.” I think that’s the beauty, being inclusive, in terms of not conforming to genders too. Why do people buy blue clothes for a boy and pink clothes for a girl? I grew up in a family where my dad loved clothes too, and my mom loved jewellery and bold things. So, growing up, I saw them mix things together. My mum would dress super African

on Sunday for church, and my father super English. So I was like, “What’s going on? There’s no coordination.” But that’s the beauty of it. So I’ll keep designing that way. It’s not just my story, it’s the story of my weavers, of my mother, it’s all about love. So menswear, womenswear, I don’t know – I just want to design!

European designers have long been using patterns they don’t understand, just saying it’s “African” when of course that doesn’t mean anything culturally speaking. Are you surprised at such a level of ignorance? Where do I start? You know, I don’t think anyone understands African fashion – I don’t think I understand it myself. I’m still trying to discover it. It’s such a big continent, people have different tribes, different religions, people look different. It’s insane. So what is truly African fashion? It’s not print! That’s wax, and wax was actually invented by the Dutch. And in a lot of these wax fabrics that Europeans make, they have flowers. In my culture, we don’t do things with flowers. We cook with flowers, but they are not part of our decoration. African fashion to me is craftsmanship. African fabrics are handmade, and they’re also square shaped. You put a neckline, and you drape the fabric around your body. That’s what I understand as African fashion. And African fashion is not something to take out from. When you’re pulling something out, it’s a problem. What I’ve been able to do is to bring the crafts that we have here in Nigeria and create something that people perceive to be very inclusive and very truthful. African fashion is very inclusive: we have been able to take things from outside and mix them with our heritage.

In fashion today, inclusivity is part of the conversation, but it generally only translates as casting black models. There’s no deeper questioning of how we work as an industry, how we perpetuate the dominance of the “developed” West. What, for you, would constitute true inclusivity?

It’s so easy. Just think about it. You open a magazine and it’s full of things that people around the world haven’t seen. Fashion is something to learn from – it shouldn’t bring pain or anger. A magazine is a book, something that you learn from. And I don’t understand why the books

dominant West seem more attractive than what you have at home? Even in terms of imagery, in terms of body types…

It’s kind of ingrained in us without even noticing it. Especially if you come from Latin America or other places around the world where we are always copying what more “advanced” places like Europe or the US are doing. You’re always looking at that in order to validate what you have. So if you go to a place like Medellín or Bogotá, in terms of food for example, we tend to use things that are not Colombian grown. We love the artisan craft, but the artisan community is one of the poorest in the country. We are always pushing these things aside… When I took over Colette, just before it closed, some in Colombia criticized me because I really focused on kitschness, small towns, things that, to me, are

“This is a chance to change the way we look at our culture.”