In the beginning

Fashion has always been in my blood. I was always that 8-year-old girl that was caught red-handed with her feet in my mum’s heels and a handbag bigger than my own head.

I LOVE fashion. I always have and always will. Of course, growing up in Africa nurtured a particular warm weather friendly fashion bug in me. I mean, it is not hard to dress well in warm weather even for those with the worst of fashion senses. Sundresses, sandals and sun hats have always been second nature to me. In warm weather, all you have to do is throw on a pair of shorts, a multicolored Chiffon blouse, a solid colored pair of sandal shoes with a matching color bag of choice, accessories as desired, style hair appropriately and you are good to go.

Things changed when I move to Europe. Suddenly, I found myself more obsessed with being warm than smart. For the first year of living here, all I cared about when dressing up was being warm. I piled the layers on top of each other before I finally played the final brick of my fashion grave with a thick coat that was sure to keep me nice and toasty, just how I liked it. I shudder to think how far gone I was.

In addition to wanting to be warm, I had no clue how to style myself in the world of black, grey, black, cream and the occasional red clothes. How could I have known which cardigans matched with which top or coat? For goodness sake, I didn’t even know the difference between a cardigan, a sweater, and jumper or the difference between a coat and a jacket. I didn’t know what materials were warm and which ones weren’t, so I would buy loads of clothes that weren’t warm and ended up having to layer up even more.
You laugh now! But I am sure I am not the only warm climate immigrant to ever face this kind of problems.

So what did I do? I started getting observant. Other women I saw looked gorgeous in their clothing. So gorgeous that they even made the dull winter colors look really attractive. I had to learn how to go from looking like the bird woman in the second Home Alone movie everytime I left my house and to looking like Queen Bey.

This started my Boujee struggle. I had redefined myself with a mission to be a stylish curvy black woman in a street somewhere here in Europe.

Till next time!


Published by

Kel Eya

The word 'boujee' comes from a French word bourgeoisie which mean the upper class. If you remember your high school French history, you will know that the boujoisie class rose from the working/middle class. Not high enough to be nobility and not low enough to be middle class. This class is JUST RIGHT. This blog is all about my life as a struggling boujee. Life as a boujee raised African girl in the mean streets of Europe does not come cheap or easy. Two years in and I have managed to hack that #Boujeelife. Life as a boujee raised African girl in the mean streets of Europe does not come cheap or easy. Two years in and I have managed to hack that #Boujeelife.

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