There was once a time, not too long ago, when a Nigerian wedding was a sacred tapestry of two families weaving their lives together. It was the rhythmic thumping of yams in a mortar, the scent of firewood-smoke Jollof drifting through a family compound or a rented hall, and the quiet, tearful blessings of aged relatives. It was intimate, it was community-owned, and above all, it was about a union. A bride, a groom, a circle of people who knew them—who had watched their love grow in quiet, unphotographed ways. The food might have been simple. The decor, modest. But the joy? Unfiltered.
Fast forward to today, somewhere between the rise of Instagram and the cultural weight of “soft life,” weddings have become something else entirely: a performance. Intimate weddings have been replaced by a high-stakes, multi-million naira theatre production. The quiet blessings have been drowned out by the roar of smoke machines, and the intimate gathering has been swapped for a star-studded cast and invite-only spectators.
For many couples today, the goal is no longer just to get married—it’s to be seen getting married. Preferably in high definition, with drone shots, coordinated bridal trains, and a reception entrance dramatic enough to trend.
Weddings as Content
The evolution of the Nigerian wedding from a rite of passage to a theatrical performance can largely be traced to the mid-2000s, where wedding blogs transformed private joy into public aspiration. Suddenly, your wedding wasn’t successful unless it was curated for instagram.
Today, a couple doesn’t just hire a photographer, they hire a content creation team. The goal is no longer to capture memories, but to produce a trailer that will go viral on the internet. The wedding has stopped being a ceremony and has become a couple’s brand launch.
The Designer Worship
Perhaps one of the most jarring parts of this theatrical shift is the cult of the top-tier designer. In the quest for the perfect wedding look, brides have become obsessed with a handful of labels whose names carry more weight than the vows themselves.
The irony is bitter: many of these designers are infamous for treating their non-celebrity customers like dirt. We’ve heard the horror stories—brides paying millions for a gown, only to be spoken to condescendingly during fittings, finding out their custom design isn’t custom at all or not even getting the dress that was paid for. Some designers reportedly treat these brides like lucky fans who should be grateful to wear their label. If a bride is prioritizing a designer who treats her poorly over her own peace of mind, the wedding has officially moved from a celebration of self-love to a performance of status.
The Hustle for Wedding Invites
In modern day Nigerian weddings, we now see the rise of the “exclusive invites,” where people hustle, lobby, and even pay for access into what should be a private or at least intimate family moment. The Aso-Ebi has become a high-priced ticket to the show. If you can’t afford the 150,000 naira lace, you are effectively un-invited from the inner circle. This gatekeeping is usually about creating a hierarchy. It’s about ensuring that the “right” people (the influencers, the politicians, the celebrities) are seen in the room, while the people who actually know the couple’s middle names are relegated to the back.
The Cost of Modern Day Weddings
Beyond aesthetics, there’s a deeper issue: financial pressure, emotional pressure and social pressure. People are going into debt to fund a one-day experience. Families are stretched. Couples are exhausted before the marriage even begins.
And for what? A highlight reel with 10,000 likes?
A Return to the Intimate
It’s time to pull back the curtain on this theatre production. Let’s bring back the wedding that belongs to the family, not the fans. Let’s celebrate the soulmate, not the spectacle. After the cameras are packed away and the designer gown is folded into a box, all that remains is the person standing next to you. And that, more than any amount of Social Media likes, is what truly matters.
