At the recent burial of Mummy Glee’s father, Mercy Aigbe stood out not by spectacle, but by presence. Draped in olive asoebi, her look carried depth — the colour of calm, rooted in earth, neither bright nor bold but certain. In a moment that held sorrow and remembrance, her attire spoke in the soft language of respect, unity, and cultural belonging.
There’s a subtle difference between being seen and being felt. Mercy’s choice wasn’t about fashion headlines; it was about conveying solidarity without loudness — a reminder that style at life’s most tender moments isn’t ornamentation, it’s communication. In a culture where attire often announces personality, wearing olive on a day of farewell felt like an offering: grace without gloss, restraint with resonance.
At funerals, we’re reminded that life’s rhythms include both joy and grief, laughter and quiet, presence and absence. Mercy Aigbe’s look didn’t distract from those rhythms; it harmonised with them. And perhaps that’s the subtle question this moment leaves with us:
when we choose what to wear in times of transition, are we dressing for attention, or for humanity?
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