Vetramagazine

Vetra Magazine takes on what it means to be a photographer, stylist, or director today—not just the job title, but the essence.

Let’s be honest: the word “creative” has been thrown around so much, it’s starting to lose its juice. But in 2025, being a fashion creative isn’t about just owning a camera, knowing the right color palette, or styling a cool fit. It’s about vision, voice, and vibe.

Today’s fashion creatives are multi-dimensional. You’re not just a stylist—you’re an archivist, a casting director, a trend translator, and sometimes even a therapist. You’re not just a photographer—you’re a visual architect, a set designer, and a cultural commentator, all in one.

Take Sanjo Lawal, for example—a Nigerian photographer whose work feels like it was shot on Earth but processed through ancestral software. His portraits don’t just look good. They say something. They carry memory, identity, and intimacy. That’s what being a creative looks like in 2025: having something to say—and knowing how to say it without screaming.

Same goes for directors like Meji Alabi, who blends music, fashion, and film into one seamless experience. It’s not just about getting the perfect shot anymore—it’s about building worlds people want to live in, even if it’s just for 60 seconds.

The fashion creative in 2025 is also a community builder. Look at collectives like Motherland, The Assembly, or even the brothers behind Lawee—these are not just crews making content. They’re shaping culture, archiving stories, and pushing style narratives that speak globally while staying rooted locally.

And let’s not forget the platforms. Instagram is your showroom, X is your moodboard, and YouTube might be your documentary. The creative today knows how to shift between aesthetics, formats, and audiences without losing the sauce.

So, what makes a fashion creative in 2025? It’s not the gear. It’s not the follows. It’s the ability to translate identity, culture, and emotion into something visual—something that moves.

We’re not just changing our look.
We’re shifting the lens.

(C)VETRAMAGAZINE

This is a piece I initially wanted to submit for the Vetra magazine July edition, but I decided to write it as a standalone because the more I think about it, the funnier it becomes. So, here goes my story. PS: try not to laugh at me, although I'm already laughing myself.

I knew I was on for a long ride when I discovered that the main church I can attend to see people who look closely like me in this village is a catholic church. As a boy from the west, my first concern is "will I be able to understand anything they say?" Little did I know that I was actually worrying about the smallest part of the whole thing.

It was from the sitting arrangement that I knew there was a problem. As a Cele boy from Lagos, my church is divided into two visibly separate parts: male on the right, female on the left. But this church get 3 rows, "which one is my category?" Maybe one role na for the father, the other for the son, and the third for the holy spirit... I no go like sit down on top holy spirit wey dey mind him own business. But still I didn't want to ask, so I just did what any Lagos boy would do "fake like i know what I'm doing 🤣 ", so I sat in the space of son, at least me sef na son of God na 😎 .

I thought I had seen the best of choreographic worship in cele, but bro! Catholic is on another level. Every movement felt intentional; from the synchronized sitting, kneeling, and standing (bro! I was always behind, I couldn't even fake it again), to the precise moment the members were moving forward in a way I still do not understand till today. There was even a time I was the only one kneeling when they were supposed to stand up, e pain me like mad because e break my steeze, and there entered my catholic church mommy � � .

Normally, I don't like sitting beside old women in any event, especially a church-like event, because they will always be monitoring you. worst part is they won't allow you to press the phone in peace... lol! But this day was different, she was leaving alone at first until she suddenly started nudging me for everything like time to stand up, kneel, what to respond when the father says that funny word I still don't understand (T-blessing say na latin e dey speak). In one world sha she became my unofficial guide.

I don't know if it's my kneeling blunder or my typical Yoruba look that gave me off, but I still think it's my look. Stupid me wear native still hold cap, looking like a Yoruba ancestor ready to commit mass impregnation � �🤣🤣 .

Another blunder I almost made was with the eucharist process (abi wetin dem call am sef), as everybody dey move, me s sef don almost waka, until my new grandma use style drag me back "nor worry my pikin, you just stay and pray" she said, it was later I learnt that non-catholics are not supposed to approach the altar. e for too pain me if I had learnt the hard way, I for just go buy mask 🤣🤣 .

All-in-all though, the service sweet make i no lie. from the choir's "Ave maria" in Igbo to different high pitch song that makes you think you're in the land of the elves... and not forgetting those fine looking catholic babes, well, my new name is now Brother John sha, in case you need to address me because e be like say na catholic i wan dey go now.

If you haven't attended a catholic mass before, you might want to give it a try. It's an experience everyone should have at least once, because trust me, it's really fun. Although the service time is another thing, though, there are two masses at 6:30 am and 8 am, you can pick one that works for you sha.

Pro-tip though, sit near the middle of the church: close enough to see the whole drama and rituals, but far enough to make your mistakes with peace of mind.