Fashion in Nigeria has always carried weight — culturally, symbolically, and socially. From the resplendent lace and aso-oke of Yoruba celebrations to the clean-cut kaftans of northern royalty, Nigerian style has long served as an extension of identity, heritage, and even class.

But in the last decade, a quiet revolution has emerged: Alte, short for “alternative,” a youth-led movement that has reshaped the conversation around what it means to dress, to express, and to belong.

What started as an underground aesthetic associated with experimental music and DIY fashion has since become a full-fledged cultural shift. The Alte movement is not merely about appearances—it’s about reimagining space, voice, and freedom in a society that often prescribes who you should be. And at the heart of this reimagination is a growing tribe of young Nigerians—musicians, models, stylists, photographers, and students—who are just as likely to be wearing distressed denim and pearls as they are to be in lecture halls or studios plotting the future.

What Is Alte?

Before “Alte” had a name, Denrele Edun was breaking fashion rules in Nigeria. With his platform boots, makeup and flamboyant style, he stood out in the early 2000s as a walking celebration of individuality. While not a part of today’s Alte wave, Denrele embodied its core spirit: fearless, fluid, and individualistic. For many young creatives today, he’s a cultural forerunner — proof that difference has always had a place.

Nevertheless, the word “Alte” was first popularized in Nigerian music circles in the early 2010s, as artists like Odunsi (The Engine), Lady Donli, Santi (now Cruel Santino) and Amaarae broke away from the traditional Afrobeats sound and aesthetic. Their music was experimental, melding neo-soul, R&B, psychedelic pop, and trap, and their visuals equally offbeat: grainy, nostalgic, surreal. Think VHS filters, colored braids, thrifted fashion, and lots of leather. Soon, the sound inspired a visual movement.

The Alte look was distinctly nonconforming: genderless silhouettes, thrifted layering, unapologetic accessories, and an embrace of imperfection. Where mainstream Nigerian fashion had for years leaned toward structure, polish, and status, Alte opted for fluidity, self-expression, and edge. It wasn’t always pretty. But that was the point.

Alte fashion became a coded language; a signal of belonging for those who never quite fit into rigid social templates. And over time, what began as subculture found itself slowly entering the mainstream.

The Aesthetic of Rebellion

Step into certain parts of Lagos or Abuja today, and you’ll likely stumble upon a visual feast: girls in oversized jeans and crochet crop tops browsing art zines, photoshoots on dusty rooftops with styled wigs and pearl chokers; boys with braided hair and platform boots sipping zobo in thrift shops. The Alte aesthetic borrows from everywhere and nowhere. It references early 2000s Nollywood, Japanese streetwear, post-punk rebellion, 90s hip hop and local thrift markets like the popular “Yaba Bend Down Select.” It is intentional but unforced. Bold but soft. A rebellion dressed in satin. For many, it’s also political. To express yourself without fear or filter in a where being different is often seen as a radical act. As stylists and creatives across the scene often emphasize, Alte is more than a vibe—it’s a form of reclamation. A way to choose visibility, softness, or eccentricity in a culture that prizes uniformity.

In a 2019 interview with Teen Vogue, Odunsi (The Engine) reflected on the emotional backbone of the movement:

“It’s a very confusing world. There is so much noise and many voices telling you things… I wasn’t sure who I was and why I was here, which is something that happens to most kids.”

His words echo the emotional intensity that fuels much of Alte style—fashion as both expression and therapy.

A New Generation of Creatives

Today’s Alte scene is rich with multifaceted talent. These are not just fashion influencers, they’re cultural architects, building platforms, aesthetics, and movements of their own.

Mars Ezechukwu, for example, is known for their dreamy editorial photography, capturing Black bodies in soft, ethereal palettes with deeply emotional storytelling. Their work has become a reference point for the gentler, more emotive side of Alte visual culture. Stephanie Aniekwe, a stylist and fashion documentarian, has made a name blending Northern Nigerian dress codes with modern grunge aesthetics. Pelumi Agbaje is a gender-fluid model whose fashion narratives challenge traditional masculinity in deeply poetic ways.

Also rising through the scene is Ochuko Obire, popularly known as Ø (pronounced “Oh”)—a model and visual creative who has worked with brands like Tecno, Crux and Room XIX. Known for his fluid styling, expressive movement, and sculptural looks, Ø’s presence online, particularly through fashion reels and styled shoots, reflects the visual language of Alte at its most intimate.

Notably, Ø doesn’t fit the conventional image of a fashion model and that, in itself, is part of the Alte ethos, eschewing traditional runway proportions with appeal that lies precisely in that difference. His work embodies the shift toward alternative casting, where personality, presence, and creative energy matter more than strict physical standards. He shared in a 2023 interview with ThisDay,

“I describe myself as a non‑conformist or unconventional model, and the industry is beginning to acknowledge such presence. There is a lot more room for unconventionality and individual artistic expression both on and off the runway,”

This mirrors a broader global movement in fashion, where individuality increasingly takes precedence over conformity. Models like Devon Aoki, Paloma Elsesser, and Ugly Worldwide have all challenged long-held norms in the industry, carving space for bodies, faces, and aesthetics that once existed only on the margins. Ø represents that spirit within Nigeria’s emerging fashion scene. He also acknowledges how fashion’s direction is shifting from elite runways to real-world style:

“Today, the fashion industry is increasingly being driven by the street and not the runway as it used to be”

What makes his story even more compelling is the duality: he is also a Law student at Baze University in Abuja. That balance between academic rigour and creative experimentation speaks to a broader truth about many in the Alte scene: they are as intellectually curious as they are stylistically bold. They are not trying to escape structure; they are simply refusing to be limited by it.

More Than a Look

What’s most compelling about the Alte movement isn’t just the way it looks, but the world it imagines. It resists rigid masculinity, reclaims femininity, and holds space for freedom of expression. Many Alte creatives identify as simply uninterested in traditional constructs and the fashion reflects that fluidity.

In a deeply conservative society with limited space for overt self-expression, for many young Nigerians, Alte fashion is a lifeline. A way of saying: “I exist, and I refuse to hide.” To wear pearls or to crop a vintage kaftan and layer it with a punk chain is not just about fashion but also about visibility. The ability to style thrifted pieces into editorial-level looks, to claim fashion as both armour and canvas, has turned the Alte scene into a force that transcends the online world. It’s no longer niche. It’s becoming necessary.

Community and Collaboration

Despite Instagram being a central platform for visibility, the Alte movement remains community-driven. Events like Thrift Fest, Alte Cruise, and art pop-ups in Victoria Island, Lekki, and Abuja are more than shopping spots; they’re safe spaces. Here, the creative economy blooms: stylists meet models, photographers find muses, and friendships are styled into collectives. There’s no dress code, no hierarchy, no pressure to impress. Just vibes, storytelling, and a mutual understanding that in a country where conformity is currency, freedom is gold.

Fashion and the Future

If there’s one thing that defines Nigeria’s Alte creatives, it’s this: they are not waiting for permission. They are studying Law while shooting for fashion labels. They are writing code by day and DJing at night. They are modeling genderless pieces, thrifting with intention, launching slow-fashion brands, and archiving their lives in reels, zines, and photo essays. They are proving that Nigerian youths don’t have to choose between discipline and dream: they can be both. In a society that has long asked young people to fit in, these ones are choosing to stand out. And by doing so, they’re changing the fashion narrative—not just in Lagos and Abuja, but far beyond.

Alte isn’t a moment. It’s not a trend. It’s a movement.

And it’s just getting started.