How many times have you wished that God’s judgment would come heavy this instant and crush that one person who has dealt treacherously with you? Well, I confess, I have had instances when I wondered why it has to be in the hereafter that such people receive what is due to them. The heart of man is desperately wicked says the holy book! We are told to pray that our enemies live long to see the wonders of God in our lives. Why should she live long? What if she outlives me?

Well, I can tell you for sure of an instant justice that was meted to one of these treacherous people. It all began when a young man was accused of stealing some foreign currency that belonged to his aunt. The young man tried in vain to prove his innocence but no one would hear him out and in frustration the young man swore; “if I am guilty of your accusation, may I suffer for it and if you have unjustifiably accused me, may God’s judgment come upon you.” Six months later, his aunt’s big house was gutted by fire. The fire incident was so catastrophic that nothing was left to be salvaged. It couldn’t be a coincidence could it?

Not in a long time have I felt like invoking thunder and lightning on anyone as I felt recently because the pain of betrayal, sabotage, disloyalty and connivance to loot from a company that was built on sweat and blood runs very deep. I know that pilferage and fraud are rampant in many organizations but to be robbed blind until you are almost pushed off a cliff is a grave sin that demands instant justice from above. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to make demands. One thing I know though is that I will be compensated by the Holy one. He has always done that right from when we started Genevieve 7 years ago. There was a time we were going to press and we were short by about 50 percent of the sum total required. I sat in my office brooding when I got a call from the front desk that I had some visitors. Feeling low and not wanting to see anyone, I referred them to a senior staff who then buzzed me and requested that I saw them. Left with no choice, I invited them into my office and wore this Barbie doll plastic smile. Waiting for the kind of rigmarole that I have come to be accustomed with, I asked them to shoot. (Of course I didn’t use that word) Then for the first time I noticed that they were distinguished and nothing like I thought; one of the visitors was a foreigner and the lady was one of their biggest distributors of skin and hair care range in Nigeria. They said they wanted to advertise in Genevieve for two years (3 insertions in every edition) and they wanted us to sign a contract so they could immediately issue a cheque. I liked the sound of that! My advertising executive (whom I have fired) and I instantly changed our demeanor and whisked out a calculator and began to negotiate with our august visitors. Then Lo and behold they wrote out a fat cheque which we instantly banked. No, it did not bounce! 

Genevieve has been a major teacher in my life as an entrepreneur and I dare say I have been a fantastic student with more resilience than I give myself credit for. Genevieve reminds me of Nigeria; it has been duped,  bruised and  milked, yet it stands like an iroko tree while its citizens (in this case readers)  remain steadfast and  loyal to the brand and pray that it does not buckle under the evil machination of opportuninists. To discover that you have been losing money steadily for nearly five years to some employees whom you trusted is hurtful. Anyway, firing them was a real pleasure especially as they didn’t see it coming! Let them go and enjoy their blood money (my sweat and blood) but they should watch out, for no one gets away with what belongs in my coffers. Nemesis comes in currents and torrents !!! Oh the nemesis is going to be huge!

 So in February when we caught a thief (again?) who was conniving with outsiders to defraud us by recycling unsold copies and hawking magazines, which he was unauthorized to do, we handed him over to the police.  . .. .an error of judgment Shakespear would say. I can’t begin to tell you how emotionally draining that experience was. I felt somewhat better when I listened to other peoples experiences. It’s all a learning process as some of my co-entrepreneurs told me and some of them had more horrifying experiences  than mine. According to a lady who runs a guest house, the pilferage and invoice tampering was so much that she sacked and replaced her Nigerian manager with a Philipino. As it turned out the Philipino was “a veteran thief;” in fact, she was more fraudulent than all the Nigerians working in the guest house rolled into one. Without much ado, she had her deported! Another friend told me she found out that she was losing nearly one million naira monthly until she decided to shine her eyes and take charge. The tales of horror sent my head reeling as I battled with the realization of what we were all up against.  

It was the morning of the Pink Ball and there I was sweating the small stuffs! I was restive and needed to shake off a cloud that hung over my head and left me brooding. I was having something akin to bridal jitters. Hmmmmmm!

Then came a text message from my aburo Aisha. It was full of inspiration like the many that came in earlier, except that it ended with instructions that I should go out and give alms to the poor. Wha- a-a-t? On a day like this? I exclaimed under my breath. I dismissed that part of the text and tried to settle down; after all, I couldn’t hold back the hand of time. It was D-day – ready or not.I took time to reflect on my life since the first Pink Ball and all I could think of was, what have I gotten myself into? My heart pined after my quiet life as a dutiful wife and devoted

mother. “Fre-nemies,” Alero had called them. Indeed, the Pink Ball had suddenly become an albatross and cynics have become a distraction. What haven’t we heard? I am supposed to have enriched myself through this charity, smiling all the way to the CBN! Oh, there are so many tales of my feeding off the Pink Ball. One is that I acquired a Jeep; another one, spearheaded by someone close to “G”, had it that our new home was a spin-off from the

Pink Ball. Oh wait; there’s more: Soon after the first Pink Ball, I was supposed to be in a dalliance with our special guest who arrived at the ball in a “Pink Babariga!” He was supposed to be the reason I dressed better, and

looked affluent! One of my friends had stoutly defended me in the gathering where this was an after dinner discussion. She had called me up and said “Betty, dem say you’bi so and so girlfriend o” and we laughed and laughed – it really was funny! Where do these Fre-nemies get off? C’mmon get a life! After the 2009 Pink Ball, I thought I’d be a little mischievous and change my car to one of those monstrous Nissan jeeps and brand it Betty. Then I thought “Nah girl, keep your eyes on the ball and that’s what I choose to do.”

Back to the day of the ball. My restlessness took me back to the text from my aburo urging me to go out and perform ‘zakat’ (almsgiving). If that would checkmate my restiveness, I thought “why not?” At that moment, my

friend, Omowunmi walked in and I asked if her driver (He is Hausa) could take me out. “Yes,” she agreed. “Do you know where I can find some beggars and be back in the hotel in 30 minutes?” I asked him as we drove out. He nodded. So, armed with crisp notes, we went ‘beggar-hunting.’ The time was 3pm – four hours to the

ball. You’d never believe that that turned out to be beggars day off? We went from street to street in Victoria Island but no luck! And then just before I gave up, at the Akin Adesola/Adeola Odeku streets junction, we finally found

a window cleaner and a young beggar – a girl. I motioned to the driver to stop while I beckoned on the girl (obviously not more than 12 years of age) and handed her some wads of Naira notes. She took the money, said nothing

to me but went to the driver’s door and tapped on the glass, indicating she wanted a word with him.

“You’re Hausa?’ she asked. “Yes,” the driver nodded. “Tell the woman who just gave me money that God will bless her and whatever she lays her hands on will be blessed by God.” The driver interpreted her words to me as we drove back and my eyes justmisted. I leaned back on my seat and inhaled – a deep, satisfying breath

and an inexplicable feeling of self-content streamed through me. I felt lifted

as I hurriedly sent a text to my aburo saying, “I have done zakat,” and she replied “Watch what will happen tonight.”

By 7pm I was ready and hanging on the arms of my daughter and fired up by hundreds of inspiring texts, we left for the ball. As we entered the venue, she exclaimed excitedly, “look mum”! Then I saw the breathtaking hall and all the

guests and at that point the words of the young beggar flooded my memory: “Tell the woman who gave me money that God will bless her as well as my aburo’s text; Watch what will happen tonight ” It all seemed to add up. At that

point, I took another deep breath and inhaled the positive energy and goodwill of the night. Nothing else mattered! I was intoxicated with goodwill. I should carry out more acts of kindness, afterall charity should begin with all

of us. I thought. Perhaps that was the lesson I needed to learn and I couldn’t have learnt that better than on a day devoted to charity. *Remember, what other people think of you is not your business. What you

think of yourself is all that counts!

The story you’re about to read may come across quite like some fictitious

creation, especially because of its spooky parts; but make no mistake about

it, for this is as real as as it gets.. It is the lamentation of a young girl in one

of Nigeria’s ivory towers as told to her close friends in the dying minutes of

her life. Another story of wanton sex–capade ending on a “sore”note,

Tolani – that’s her name – told her friends how she wished she had lived her

life differently and stuck to her life-long goal of obtaining a university educa-

tion as a means of combating the poverty that had engulfed her from child-

hood. For effect, we serve you her story in the first person narrative.

Hope! Does that word really exist? For me it doesn’t. I

have reached the end-point of my life. There is simply

nowhere for me to go from here. I’ve debated this

within myself for a long time before deciding to come

out with it. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’ll do no

good to keep it to myself. At worst, somebody out

there will learn from my mistakes and hopefully

decide against toeing the line I unwittingly toed, because right now I have

reached the point of no return.

My name is Tolani. I am 25 years old. I am tall, slim and good-looking. I come

from a very poor background. My father was a retiree from one of the govern-

ment ministries and the gratuity he was paid was not enough to feed the family.

My mother was a petty trader. Although we had little materially, we were rich

morally and spiritually. My father taught us to be contented with the little we

had.

I went to the primary and secondary schools my parents could afford, but

because I was intelligent, I soon became one of the best students in my class in

my primary and later secondary school. Right after my school certificate exami-

nation, I passed my JAMB and gained admission into one of the higher institu-

tions in Nigeria. Owing to my resolve, I got serious with my academics right

from day one at the university; and my results were there to show for it. My

grades were very good and I was happy with myself. I closed my eyes to all

things that could distract me academically. However, my days of academic

glory were numbered.

In my third year in the university, I met a clique of girls and we became very

close. I began attending parties and the big clubs in town. Soon I became a

party freak. There was no party on or off campus I was not invited to; and I

made it a duty to attend them all. As a result, my school work suffered. I

scarcely attended lectures and would rather collect any of my classmate’s notes

to photocopy. As the first semester wound down, I knew my results would be

bad alright but I was not ready for what I got.

I failed all my courses and by the time my GPA was calculated, it had fallen

below 1.0. I also got a written warning from the university authority to either sit

up or face expulsion. I was devastated. I used to be very good in my first and

second year. So I knew I had to sit up. I made up my mind to get serious with

my academics because I could not live with the disgrace of expulsion.

But before long, I began to miss the thrill of night life. I began to drink heavi-

ly. I also smoked and even had two abortions along the line. I started getting

involved with older married men. I dated for the money and because my

friends were doing it. I needed to keep up with my lavish lifestyle and to

‘belong’. I didn’t want to be left out. I became a top ‘aristo’ babe and I had

everything I wanted financially - bags, shoes, clothes; even a car. I was a big

chic. Thanks to my ‘runs guys’ and my older boyfriends. I did a lot of dirty

things for money. I was a prostitute in the real sense of the word. Of course, I

justified my actions since I used part of the money to cater for my parents and

my siblings. They were bothered about the source of my money but I told them

that I was working and schooling at the same time.

On one of my usual weekend gigs, I met a very rich chief. He came in the

company of another girl but something happened and the girl left the party

early. I found myself sitting next to him and we started gisting. We spent the

night in his guest house. Hmmm! That night changed my life entirely. Chief

removed his clothes and what I saw horrified me. His body was covered with

terrible sores. He offered me money that was really mouth-watering if only I

licked all his sores. He said that I would die if I refuse since I had already seen

them. I guess that was a threat. But, I licked the sores anyway, collected the

money and left.

After that night, I never felt normal again. I became sick and started throwing

up continuously. I was getting weaker and slimmer, and kept having terrible

nightmares. I went to the hospital to see if they could diagnose my problem,

but the doctor found nothing wrong with me. I wasn’t surprised though. I then

turned to a spiritualist who told me that the legion of sores on the chief, which

I had licked was the cause of my sickness. He also bluntly told me that there

was no cure for my illness. Death was the last thing on my mind when I licked

those sores, but here I am, in my prime, struggling with death. It’s very painful

to think that I have nothing to show for my little sojourn on mother earth. I will

never graduate from school like I always dreamt. I will never have a second

chance to correct the foolish mistakes I made because I have only a few weeks

to live. So I’ve decided to tell my story to the world, to learn from it. Please

don’t feel sorry for me. I got what I deserved.

*Tolani died a few weeks after telling her story.

Welcome to the much anticipated Mercedes Benz IMGNew York Fashion week edition. Now, we are

offering money back guarantee to readers if this isn’t a befitting finale to all other reports on the

fashion fiesta. You see, the G-Team was right in the middle of it for 10 days and can’t wait to give you a bird’s eye view of it all… and that you can take to the bank! We left Nigeria two days before the event on VIRGIN ATLANTIC; our worthy

partner. I was the team leader, then there was Motunrayo Bello (features and interviews), Seun Orotokhai (Fruition), Sonia Irabor (entertainment; from a visit to the famous Apollo, to Sourcemagazine which bought over Vibes, to

after parties and anything that was remotely connected with entertainment). Ifeoma Williams (Fruition) joined us three days later. Then there was Saheed - a fashion and style connoisseur and a Tom Ford protege. Together, the team

combed NYC for exclusives. They also lived it up. If they were not attending after parties, they were dining at the Buddakan where one of the scenes of SEX AND THE CITY was shot. They just missed P-Diddy’s legendary after party, because of a lil’ mix up with the invitation. So instead of partying after the Video Music Awards, they were content to eat yet another Chinese take-

out in my room and watch the VMA on TV. Fashion, Passion and Addiction were in sync during the event which held at

the Bryant Park in Manhattan. The first day was for registration and trust us, we were right on time. And as

we stepped out to receive our passes, the young man in charge said to us when we offered him a copy of Genevieve “Oh, that won’t be necessary, I already have a bunch of Genevieve in my office…wehad inundated them with calls and dispatched a dozen copies of Genevieve to the IMGoffice. My, we were chuffed to be so recognised and filed out to get some winks before The

Arise Showthe next day. We were proud to sit in the tent in far away New York and watch our designers in the rank and file of big players. Tiffany Amber, Jewel by Lisa didn’t disappoint and they were rewarded with thunderous applause from the full house. Well, I knew our designers would go places but I just didn’t realise it would be this soon. You see, dreams do come true.

Kudos, Arise!. They say success is what you get when opportunity meets chance…opportunities don’t come any more than that created for our design- ers by ARISE. Nice one guys! For a whole week plus, New York bubbled and the city reputed for neither

sleeping nor slumbering blazed forth as one event wove into the other. There were private viewings by top designers for which you were welcome if you had a special invitation. Psst… the G-TEAM got bounced a couple of times because the PR Company we hired was totally inept. But instead of taking it personal, we decided to get even… we re-strategized and turned up for private

shows looking so opulent that we were welcome even without an invitation. There were so many shows going on in the tent and outside that it was impossible to be everywhere all the time. I couldn’t catch up with the team’s stride, so I opted to do a solo and went to some private shows like the Dior cocktail and visited Essencemagazine. I was also invited to the legendary Ashford and Simpson’s Sugar Bar and guess who would walk in? …. Andre Leon Talley, the editor at large of Vogue. Sugar bar was fun as old and new

musicians turned up to perform. The team spent the last but one day of our visit at the New York branch of the Susan Komen foundation for cancer. We were received by Dr. Dara Richardson, a cancer survivor herself. We made our pitch and pleaded with

the foundation to cast an eye on Nigeria, especially as we were told that the association had been to Senegal, Ghana, Egypt (where they decked the pyra- mid in pink) and didn’t even have plans to visit Nigeria. “We will pass your message to the main organisation,she said and congratulated us for the Pink Ball initiative. I think they were all impressed by us especially after we present-

ed them with Genevieve. We later posed for pictures. Now, I thought I was the only one with a pink bathroom until I saw theirs!

And so it was that after 10 days of rocking New York, we returned home - not without a bit of beef and drama but then that’s OK!

This edition is a keepsake, so buy your own copy as well as a copy of Morning Dewthe book. Launch of the book is Dec. Lots of fun and gifts for guests.

SAHEED SULAIMAN TAKES OVER STYLETITUDE DESK

By the way, batons have changed hands at the Styletitudedesk. Saheed Sulaiman, who is vastly knowledge-able about style, fashion and lifestyle, takes over from our former freelance Fashion Editor Ifeoma Williams. Saheed debuts this month as Guest Editor Stylefiles. Let us know what you think.

GRATITUDE

Trip to the Mercedes Benz-IMG NY

Fashion weekwas made possible by Virgin

Atlantic…thank you Chief Adebanjo, the country manager; Nick, Wura

and Kudi (How could I have called you Nkem in the Sept Morning dew?)

Thank you duty manager at MMfor the red carpet treatment. Special gratitude

to Governor

Raji

Fasholawho surprised us with a handsome cheque and

thank you HRH.

Ugoji.

Enjoy and have a feast!

Happenstance

It was the morning of the Pink Ball and there I was sweating the small stuffs! I was restive and needed to shake off a cloud that hung over my head and left me brooding. I was having something akin to bridal jitters. Hmmmmmm!

Then came a text message from my aburo, Aisha. It was full of inspiration like the many that came in earlier, except that it ended with instructions that I should go out and give alms to the poor. Wh-a-a-a-t? On a day like this? I exclaimed under my breath. I dismissed that part of the text and tried to settle down; after all, I couldn’t hold back the hand of time. It was D-day – ready or not. I took time to reflect on my life since the first Pink Ball and all I could think of was, what have I gotten myself into? My heart pined after my quiet life as a dutiful wife and devoted mother. …

The Genevieve Magazine Online JUNE, 2009 (THE PINK BALL EDITION) is now available at http://chicnicityllc.com

The Genevieve Pink Ball event was held to create awareness about breast cancer in Nigeria.
The event included a fashion show by Tiffany Amber (with celebrity models like Funke Akindele(JENIFA), Bellanaija(Bellanaija.com), Ruth Osime(This Day Style) and others.

Subscribe in the month of June, 2009 and receive a FREE 3 MONTH SUBSCRIPTION for a friend or family member, view exclusive pictures of the Genevieve Pink Ball event (only available in the online edition) and be automatically entered in our raffle draw to win some CHIC HOT items.

Benefits of subscribing online include Instant gratification (no more waiting), Instant accessibility to your digital magazine at all times, Secure payment with Paypal, Eco- friendly and much more.

To Subscribe or Read 3 FREE EDITIONS of Genevieve Magazine Olnline, visit: http://chicnicityllc.com

Neglected by mum, abused by an uncle and battered by dad… Kate tells the gruesome story of her childhood in an emotion-laden voice.

My name is Kate (not real name) and I am a student at the University of Lagos. For the sake of anonymity, I’d rather not disclose my department or level, because the story I’m about to tell is so embarrassing that it could get me stigmatised among my peers. Even as I speak, my experiences in life affect me, and have greatly affected my relationship with people, especially men. It is a story of total childhood neglect, for which I would blame my mother; gross child abuse and paedophilia, for which my animalistic uncle takes the blame, and childhood brutality, for which I will blame my father most.

I grew up bearing another man’s name (my mum’s husband’s) until I was about 17, when I was challenged by someone. All along though, I always suspected that things were just not right with me; you know, the usual kids’ feeling of neglect; of not being welcome or treated equally with the other kids; of not being allowed to watch TV like other kids, of not being bought Christmas clothes like the other kids…. My mother, probably because of the way she grew up - she was also a product of a broken home-never really cared about me. The ultimate for her was therefore to protect her husband and marriage, even at my own detriment. It was also clear that she was not comfortable having me around, most probably because I reminded her of her former husband, my father, whom she had come to hate.

There was this uncle of mine; he’s a very popular figure now; it was in his house that I spent most of my free time. At other times, I also stayed at my aunt’s place. Because of my mother’s unwelcome attitude, I was always shuttling between peoples’ houses. Interestingly, my uncle’s place was more like the home I needed, and so we’d go there during vacations; and he was always buying us chocolates - I think I was around five or six then. One afternoon however, I left my aunt’s place (my mum’s younger sister; I think she and my mum had issues) and went to stay at my uncle’s place. Things went well, until suddenly I noticed that he would come back from work and just take out his anger on me, apparently due to some frustrations at work, and because I was usually the only one at home. For no just reason, he would beat me silly, and thereafter strip himself naked and order me to go naked; then he would put his manhood in my mouth and force me to do real disgusting things until he came. It never ended there, as he also forced me to lick up every bit of his semen and swallow all. Any attempt to refuse was met with gruesome beating and this went on for four years. Yeah, that was how long I had to put up with it, because I had nowhere to go. More frustrating was the fact that I had nobody to report to; nobody, because as I said earlier, my mother was never close to me. Even on those occasions when I as much as summoned the courage to say “Mummy, do you know what uncle did?” I was usually met with series of hot slaps and a command to “shut up!!” And my uncle actually capitalised on that situation. He knew I was as good as an orphan.

His driver too

Even my uncle’s driver was not left out in this abuse. Usually he went to drop my uncle’s children, who were much older and in college off at school. Because of what I knew would happen if left alone with my uncle at home, I usually preferred to ride with them and be away from home, even if it was just for a while. On this particular occasion, I slept off in the car as we were coming back, but suddenly woke up to find the driver poking his fingers into my private part. I was so shocked that I tried to raise an alarm by crying out for help; but all I got even as I began to open my mouth was a vicious slap; I still call it the slap of my life; because after that I just shut up and endured the ignominy and cried all through. As usual, there was nobody to report to. Is it the uncle that was doing the same thing to me that I’ll go and tell, or is it the mum, who just wouldn’t listen?

The after-effect

Of course it got to me psychologically and I was always cold, sluggish and withdrawn. I was always crying, always sick and always throwing up – a result of the swallowed semen, but never able to unburden my heart to anyone. I couldn’t even tell my teachers at school because I was living under serious fear. I was like an unwanted child, so nobody ever asked about why I was always sick, let alone take me to the hospital. I finally left my uncle’s house when I was eight to live at my aunt’s. Now she also was hostile in a different way, and the bottom-line was that she didn’t want me around and therefore built a ‘block’ around herself, such that I couldn’t relate to her. She made it clear in her attitude that I was a burden that she just had to put up with. So I endured different levels of abuse and hostility; and became an introvert and also suspicious of people around me.

Nowhere to be found!

My mother for instance never taught me anything about sex. She was so detached from me that she didn’t even know when I started my menstruation, even though I was practically living with her then. I only noticed some blood stains all over my body, and I was still wondering about what was going on when our neighbour, a man, called me and gave me some tissues and money to get the necessary things to clean up. He was a married man who up until then hadn’t made any obscene gesture to me. So, he was purely out to help; knowing fully well that my mom would never bother. But instead of my mum being appreciative of the man’s gesture, she picked a quarrel with him and all hell let loose. All sorts of nonsense!

In fact my first education on sex was on TV via the late MEE Mofe Damijo’s show. I remember how I had to sneak into some neighbour’s room to watch this particular episode which was on sex education. Seeing my enthusiasm and knowing that I would never be allowed to watch it in my own home, the neighbour also promised to allow me watch subsequent editions. You could say all I know about sex I learnt from MEE’s show; and from my own findings. Even as I’m speaking to you now, I still haven’t told my mum of my experiences at the hands of her relative, because there has never been that kind of opportunity.

Lost And Found Dad

I didn’t meet my real father until I was around 17. Interestingly, dad wasn’t much better than mum in the final analysis. I lived in his house for about a month and I was thrown out. My education had been partly financed by my dad’s elder brother and myself, because I started working right after secondary school. Of course there was the initial euphoria of finding his lost daughter, and he showed so much love during that period. But I had this half-brother, who because we were almost within the same age bracket engaged me in the usual childish rivalry and arguments. Expectedly, that set the stage for my problems, because naturally, I was the guilty one. They say it doesn’t rain but it pours; my step-sister was getting married and she accused me of stealing her money, which was not true. I tried to let her see that she couldn’t just zero down on me because this was a time when we had so many people in the house, but she insisted and even took out of my lunch allowance as replacement. So during the engagement, I was the one that helped collect the money people sprayed her, and I simply took back my money. And then she went to report me to my dad that I’d stolen her money. And as hard as I tried to explain to my dad that she was the one that first took my money without my consent, he was not just ready to listen. So I became the thief in the house and they as much as possible tried to stigmatise me as a thief in the neighbourhood. Dad even bought different sizes of canes, specifically to service me and one day, on the basis of some missing items and other lies, I was called out at the assembly at my father’s instance, stripped naked, and publicly flogged. All these at a time when I was in SS1 class!

Things generally became so unbearable for me in my father’s house that I knew it was a matter of time before the bubble burst. And it did burst. We had a disagreement over my intention to go and spend one Xmas at my aunt’s. He objected, whereas I insisted; and before I knew it, there was a face-off. He started chasing me round the house with his horse whip and whipped me until everyone stopped to watch. I was so angry that I didn’t know when I bent low, scooped up some sand and poured them directly into his eyes. Of course that was the end of my stay in his house as he threw my things out. A neighbour took me in for two weeks until my mother – I don’t know how she was able to talk her into it – came and took me away. All through my whole ordeal in my father’s house, she never knew anything because she never asked or checked on me.

After that she tried to be close to me and even tried to atone for her past misdeeds, but I guess it’s too late. We do have a relationship alright, but that closeness can just never be there. Even now, I practically live on campus as I have nowhere I can really call home.

First true friend

Believe me, the first time I ever unburdened my heart to anyone was when I was 23, and it was to my boss at work, whom I also played tennis with. In my attempt to take my mind off the different issues bothering me, I’d taken to tennis. But he noticed that I usually just packed my racket and disappeared as soon as a game was over, so he called me one day and was like “hey, can we talk over suya or drink” Initially my attitude was like what now! But he made it clear he was coming as a friend and nothing more. So we got talking and I told him every bit of the horrible experience I had bottled up and lived with all my life. And he was consoling, promising to be of help as much as possible. For you to know how much of a confidant he has become, I even told him I was coming to give this interview. And though he was against it, I made it clear I was telling the story because I wanted mothers out there to be aware of the dangers out there and maintain a close and cordial relationship with their daughters.

Why is she telling this story?

I was at the UNILAG Campus Genevieve Gathering; I’m an avid reader of Genevieve and I knew that a seminar from its stables, especially on sex education was always going to be very enriching. So I was the first girl in the hall – I even ignored my lecture for that afternoon, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Even at the end of the day, I still think that those girls that really should have been there to learn from the topic of the day were not there. Believe me, I’ve seen things. I’ve seen how girls live on the fast lane and practically murder themselves through wanton sex-capades and quest for money. I remember how a 100 level girl got impregnated and had to be aided by her boyfriend to abort it by inserting a long, curved iron (straightened clothe hanger) into her womb through her vagina to pull out the growing foetus. That was just a week before Genevieve came to the campus. Of course the girl died in the process. And that was not the first time such was happening on that campus. I have seen what lack of adequate parenting and counselling and childhood abuse can do to a person. And that’s why I’m telling this story. I am a living experience of some of these things and that was why it was not easy for me to place myself in the picture of turn-around or turning-point that Mr. Toyin Subair was painting that afternoon. He spoke well, but I just wanted to ask him how he expected an abused child like me to have a turning point. What was that turning point that can erase the memory of all that experience at the hands of my uncle?

Love Life

Absolutely none. I’m 28 but my experiences in life have taught me that marriage really is not the ultimate. I’ve seen so many failed marriages and so many violent and unhappy ones, that I might as well just live my life alone. Honestly I think that marriage is not for me. I can do without all those complications. Even my only attempt at a love affair ended up on a real sad note as the guy turned out to be the kiss and tell type.

Audrey’s remarkable dedication to fashion has engraved her name and face on the minds of many top designers all over the world. According to Donna Karan, ‘everything in this business is irreplaceable…not Audrey…she makes a difference…’ For decades, Audrey has committed herself to making fashion shows as memorable as they should be; training many who have since become icons in the industry and giving her longtime friends an incredible support. ‘ Our key ingredient is love…’ she says with enthusiasm. Making her indelible mark in the industry positioned her in the category of ‘New York’s top six entrepreneurs of 1998’…7One of her favourite things in the world remains a picture of herself sketched by Karl Lagerfield in 1975 and it constantly reminds her of why she so deeply respects his genius. In this fast paced interview with Motunrayo Bello and Kwevi Quale, the vivacious Audrey tells of her climb up the fashion ladder.

Becoming The Ground Crew…

I have lived by one quote through out my business years, ‘There’s only one way to do it…the right way…the Ground Crew way’. For years, there was a void in the fashion industry; many designers with fantastic designs didn’t have the right avenue to showcase their works. I came in to fill that void. The ground crew has been around for 30 years and in the beginning I did not have the opportunity to produce an entire show because the designers I met at the time thought they knew how to produce their shows. But as a former editor of a fashion magazine, I used to travel for shows in Europe and NY and I knew that backstage was total hysteria and I couldn’t imagine why any designer should put up with that. So, I did a little study before I started my own business, just so I could understand how things could be fixed; I came up with the decision that at every show, nothing will be missing (almost impossible, but we got it done) We put order in the business as models and stylists were co-ordinated and organized. Thus, I guarantee the designers that it will pay them to hire the ground crew because not only would we dress the models, we will ensure that the models are on time, in line to go down the runway when they are supposed to, with the right dress, right shoes, just the way the designer wants it and when it’s time to clean up after the show, everything will be in place.

Backstage production…

When we meet with a designer we talk about how many models they’ll be having at their fashion show. Most new designers have no idea what’s needed for backstage, so we put them through our own process. For instance, if you are having a fashion show with fifty models with thirty looks, then each model is going to wear two outfits; plus, we will provide you one supervisor and 7 or 8 ground crew dressers. Some designers want to have a dresser for every model, but if the model is only wearing 2 looks, then it really isn’t necessary. If we have 3, 4 or 5 looks per model or 1 model that’s going to be in 3 to 5 looks, we know how to do make that workright arrangement for them to go out on stage; we figure out what exactly every designer needs and we do about 200 shows a year.

Some designers don’t know that they need a ‘run-off’ show for every fashion event; it’s the order with which you want the clothes to come out. You’d be surprised how some designers get it wrong; they don’t have the racks set right, don’t have the models arranged correctly…we go in there and we turn everything around.

We work with a lot of stylists before the show; some don’t know how long it should take to style a model for a fashion show. For example, a model’s shoes might have like 3 or 4 straps, it could take them forever; timing is very crucial…everything happens in seconds. Some people need to know that a fashion show is different from a fashion shoot, where you have as much time as you need. It takes about 30 seconds to get models out one after the other but that’s it.

Under control…

We make shows easy for every designer that we work with, because they have a lot on their minds. As a designer, you are hoping that you sell these clothes, hoping that the models look great to the buyers enough for the press to give you good reviews, so we are always ready to take this stress off you. You don’t need on your mind the details that we can take care of for you; we make sure that the models and the looks are just the way the designer intends it.

High-profile designers…

I have on my website the new top clients that I am presently working with and those I have worked with these past three years some come and they go but we are currently working with the Black Entertainment Television on the ‘Rip The Runway’, which is totally different from the other shows that we do; I’m the co-ordinating producer in the show. We have been doing this for 4 years and we’ve done 5 shows so far. It’s been an amazing and extremely popular show with over a million viewers.

Ground crew fever…

In the beginning most of my clients were women, the male clients didn’t use us as much as the women did. A woman hired us to do a show for Saks 5th avenue, we did the show and she was simply amazed. After this we did the show for for Donna Karan who liked what we did, then we did Bill Blass… Bill told Oscar de la Renta, Oscar told Caroline Herrera, and that’s how we got our reputation. We do our jobs and do them right whether you are big, small, just starting out. Our supervisors are always half an hour earlier, and we stay longer than we charge you for. We guarantee you nothing will be missing and that everybody you hire will definitely show up. We always hire more people than you expect or pay for, because you know people always come up with different excuses for why they are late or don’t even show up at all.

We love what we do, we have a passion for fashion and most importantly, we just do it with love. We have a prayer before every show…hoping that the show will be the very best show the designer has ever had; we care about our designers and want for them the best. Though we have a lot of competition out there and they are much less expensive than we are, still we keep getting higher and people keep hiring us…we are not millionaires but we are more than millionaires.

Audrey Audrey Audrey…

Every designer has someone they can rely on…as for Donna Karan, she knows I am always there. My presence is always felt, whether she spoke to me or not before any show, she never has to worry. In the 26 years I have been with her, she knows the job was always done just the way she wants it. From London to Milan, I have been with her all the way and she constantly tells everyone how she feels about me and how I get my job done. Now I am not at shows anymore, there are other fantastic ladies I send to work with these designers…so, it’s not just about me anymore. These designers are still rest assured that everything is going to be just great; you see the ground crew and you know you have nothing to worry about. I always tell them when I meet with them, ‘Don’t worry, you have enough on your mind…we’ll take care of everything for you’. We give you more than you anticipate…more than you ever dreamed of…we never do LESS, we do MORE…One guy said we are very spiritual…That’s the difference…our ingredient is LOVE. We keep getting new clients, because someone’s there to say, ‘I worked with Audrey 10 years ago…20 years ago, you should hire the Ground Crew’…so good word does get around.

Memorable moments…

‘Oh, I have many of those…the good, the bad and the ugly…’ Many times models have fallen on the runway, music has stopped, lights have gone out but the show does go on…just keep it moving. At the Isaac Mizrahi show many years ago, the lights went out, but thank God, I was not in charge of the lights…it was another production company that was. The photographers who were there had to turn on the lights to their cameras to work and get great pictures. I also did this show where the music stopped, but still sent the models out without any music…I told those girls, ‘I don’t care what you do…you better hear the music in your head and work that runway like the music is the most fantastic music you ever heard…’ We also have girls whose heels have broken on the runway, shoes come off, and earrings fall off…the show goes on. One time we had this show with Bill Blass, and about 4 models didn’t show up less than an hour before show time, so we had to rearrange the entire show…he couldn’t believe we could pull off that show with four less models, he just couldn’t stop thanking us…the show goes on.

In 1987 right on the Hudson river, in Harlem I had the most amazing show ever; it was outdoor…I had all black designers and designers from Africa and it was incredible. 3,000 people showed up… it was just beautiful. The show was called ‘Harlem On The Hudson’. I have traveled with Mercedes Benz doing fashion shows all over the United States; I also opened up for Ray Charles in 1999; promoting Mercedes Benz cars. We do all kinds of interesting shows… I did a show once in Jamaica where it started to rain…we knew it was going to rain and we tried to rush it, but these models were taking their time on that runway…we walked the runway through the pouring rain and it was one of the most beautiful shows I’d ever seen. ‘The show must go on…what’s a little rain?’ (laughs)

Fashion shows slip-ups…

The commonest mistake that designers make is that they don’t realize that they need to have a ‘run-off’ show; also that they need a photograph of the model along with the clothes that she’ll be wearing so that people will know, they don’t know how to line up a show. They don’t realize that when you use model number 1 you can’t use that same model until at least model number 10, 11 or 12 goes out; you can’t make her model number 6 because there’s just about 3 or 4 models between them, so if you are having a big show you have to do a lot of spacing. And the only way we know how to do things is the right way

The Woman with a view…

While freelancing for Vogue magazine, I wrote a column for Vogue in 1978. Before this time, they didn’t have anything for black women, so I presented a one page proposal called ‘Beauty From A Black Woman’s Point-Of-View’… I’ll never forget this…it was 1984, and I did a whole story on Vanessa Williams, who that year became Ms. America. When the magazine came out in September she was crowned Ms. America that same month, but I had this story way back in July. I just knew that this girl had something special…It was like heaven-sent; I knew she was going to be a star, and I was not wrong. For the story I did on black women, I interviewed different people; Aretha Franklin and we talked about black beauty and much more. I’ve done shows in Ivory Coast in 1995, Cote D’ voire, Ghana the next year, I’ve been to Africa for so many shows and that’s how I met Kwevi Quaye…in Senegal. We met 15 years ago and that’s when he started calling me ‘Madam Poisson…’ Everyone in the industry calls me that now.

Oprah, Halle and Michelle…

These are three amazing women with strong personalities and I would dress them in clothes that reflect their celebrity. Halle Berry would look fantastic in a Ralph Lauren for a day wear. Michelle Obama would be amazing in Tracey Reese for day wear and for night wear, either Carolina Herrera, Oscar De La Renta or Valentino (very upscale and sophisticated) I would put Oprah in a Gucci or Valentino (she loves Valentino) I think Valentino knows how to take a woman and make her look absolutely pretty. Caroline Herrera, Oscar De La Renta knows how to do it… very few designers know how to really do it. Also, Michelle Obama will look good in a sophisticated Donna Karan for evening too. She’s got butt and Donna Karan’s got a big butt too; the trick to knowing designers that can make you clothes to fit you like a glove is to know how the designer herself looks, ‘Does she look like me…If she’s tall, she’ll hook me up with my perfect fit…if she looks nothing like me, I can’t wear her outfit’. But with Karl Lagerfield, he just knows how to dress the world…

Nigerian Designers…

I’d love to come to Nigeria to show the designers (in a week) the total production of a fashion show, fashion shoot, and a fashion video. I never teach any designer how to design; all I do is teach you all that goes into the production of amazing shows that will definitely help you sell your creations. Plus, I can’t wait to be at the Pink Ball this month…fun fun fun.