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Iamlolagold

@lolydia_couture

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A piece of shit by @lolydia_couture
Some people come into your life and become family without sharing a drop of blood with you. My brother by love, my rock, my protector, my confidant, and one of the greatest blessings life has given me. Almost 20 years. Can you imagine? Almost two decades of having someone who has consistently shown up for me, through different seasons of my life. Someone who has watched me grow, guided me when I needed direction, held my hand when life got confusing, supported me when I needed help, and given me a shoulder to cry on without ever making me feel like a burden. As a teenager, you shielded me from the world in ways I probably didn’t even fully understand at the time. You protected me like your own blood sister. You made me feel that no matter what happened, I would never have to face everything alone. And through all these years, you have remained that person. Yesterday, I reached out to you, and even though you had already fallen asleep, you called me back this morning. You are that person I can tell almost anything in this world without the fear of being judged. The one person I can be completely vulnerable with, knowing that I will be met with love, understanding, honesty, and a heart that genuinely wants the best for me. And do you know what makes this even more beautiful? I still have a message you sent me in 2008. A promise you made to me nearly two decades ago. You said: “I will always love you and put those smiles I love and cherish so much on your face. You always have my shoulders to lean on, and I will always be there for you.” Reading those words today hits differently. Because you didn’t just say those things, you have lived them. You have shown up, again and again. Through the years, through life’s uncertainties, through my tears, my questions, my worries, my struggles, and my victories, you have continued to be there. People talk about having a support system, but I have been blessed with a person. A person who has been my family, my brother, my guide, my protector, my encourager, and my safe haven. A person whose love has never required us to share the same surname or the same bloodline. I love you so much❤️❤️ by @lolydia_couture
A quick show of styling the detachable peplum in different ways and style. The inspiration came from God, He made me think outside the box and came up with this idea. Naming my creative style #LydiaMultifunky #WearAfricaPrint #WearAnkara #WearNigeria #WearllLydia_Couture #AllGloryToGod#coolest9ja #olayodejuliana #stylegoestochurch #ankarazone #churchyandfly #dynamixmag #bellanaijaonline #funkejenifaakindele #hitmanuzy47 #classyyafricans #ms_asoebi #dynamixmag #falzthebahdguy #afrimag #classyyafricans #selectastyle #officialarole #mercyaigbegentry #alibabagcfr #drayotunde by @lolydia_couture
I STUDIED THEIR SILENCE WHILE CARRYING MY OWN. Sometimes, life makes you revisit the very things you once studied, not as a researcher, but as someone who has personally lived through them. In my final year as a Mass Communication student, my project topic was Reportage of Violence and Crime Stories Against Women and the Girl Child in Nigerian Newspapers: A Case Study of Daily Trust and The Nation Newspapers. I conducted a content analysis, going through newspaper publications, page after page, documenting reported cases of violence against women and girls. I examined the victim’s experiences, the identities and relationships of their perpetrators, and how close these perpetrators were to the people they hurt. One recurring pattern was particularly disturbing, many of the perpetrators were not strangers. They were people the victims knew, trusted, respected and, in some cases, people who were supposed to protect them. I paid particular attention to the reasons many victims struggled to speak. Shame, humiliation, fear of being stereotyped, societal judgement, intimidation and the possibility of being blamed for what happened to them often robbed them of their voices. But there is something that makes this research particularly personal to me. I was already a victim myself. What happened to me occurred in 2012/2013 when I was in my 300 level. By the time I began working on my final year project, I wasn’t simply reading about the experiences of violated women. I was reading stories that resonated with my own experience. Imagine the emotions I must have carried while conducting that research. Imagine reading those newspaper reports, identifying patterns of abuse, examining the relationships between victims and perpetrators, and trying to understand why women remained silent, while privately carrying a story of my own. I wasn’t approaching the subject from a place of complete detachment. I knew, personally, that abuse doesn’t always come from strangers. I understood that sometimes the people who hurt you are the very people you least expect to hurt you. I understood the silence. I understood the shame. I understood the difficulty of speaking. Yet, I had to put th by @lolydia_couture
I look at these beauties and sometimes wonder how much pain a beautiful face can hide. How much a woman can endure and still find the strength to smile as though life has always been kind to her. I remember the day my father drove himself to my university. Unannounced. Straight to my department. My father had never believed in me. He never wanted me in that school. It was my mother who paid my tuition, and perhaps he thought I wasn’t even given admission but simply collecting money for a dream he never believed would last. And there, in my department, he met you. Mr Corsy. You confirmed that I was indeed a student in the department. And my father asked you to keep an eye on me. What a strange twist of life. A man who doubted his own daughter unknowingly asked another man to watch over her, not knowing that the very person he was speaking to would become one of the greatest source of her trauma. But let me go back a little. There was a course called Media Comparison. We were to study the media landscapes of four countries: Nigeria, Cotonou, Togo and Ghana. There was a compulsory trip to Ghana during Christmas. The cost was ₦60,000. I went home and told my parents. My mother, who was already responsible for putting me through university, couldn’t afford it. I understood. There was no argument. No entitlement. Just the reality of a family that couldn’t afford another expense. I told you. And you said it was compulsory. That if I didn’t go, I would carry the course. I was simply a student trying to explain a financial limitation. But somehow, my honesty became an invitation for your disgusting advances. You began telling me you wanted to sleep with me. You questioned what was so special about me. You asked why I couldn’t sleep with you when, according to your filthy assumptions, I was already sleeping with other men. Your words were vile. Your entitlement was frightening. I came to you with an academic concern, and you turned it into a conversation about my body. I was asking for understanding, not negotiating my dignity. I was your student, not your sexual entitlement. And perhaps you thought that because I needed my education, because my family ha by @lolydia_couture
Life has a way of teaching you that strength isn’t always loud, growth isn’t always visible, and progress doesn’t always look the way you imagined. Sometimes, the greatest achievement is simply arriving at a place where you can look at your life, appreciate how far you’ve come and still remain excited about how far you can go. by @lolydia_couture
A girl helped by God😍😍😍😍 by @lolydia_couture
Dressed in my Sunday best😍 Went into my Father’s house with a heart full of gratitude. There is no greater privilege than to be in His presence. Thank you Lord Happy New Month❤️❤️❤️ #SundayBest #SundayStyle #ChurchOutfit #SundayFashion #FashionGirl Stylelnspiration ClassyAndElegant EffortlessStyle PersonalStyle FashionDiaries OOTD StyleOfTheDay FashionInspo ElegantStyle BlackGirlFashion MelaninStyle LuxuryStyle StyleWithClass ChristianLifestyle by @lolydia_couture
September 2015. My first sewing machine. ₦21,500. Sewing training: ₦15,000. And a decision that would eventually change my life. My mum bought me this machine after my sewing instructor, who happened to be her tailor, advised that I needed one at home to practise whenever I wasn’t at her shop. And that was how it all started, right in the living room of my parents’ house. But those early days were far from easy. My father never believed in what I was trying to do. He had never believed in me even before then. In fact, he made that period of my life incredibly miserable. The most hurtful words I have ever heard in my life came from him. He called me horrible names and told me nothing good would ever come out of my life. Those words hurt deeply, especially coming from him I call father, someone whose encouragement would have meant strength. I was frustrated, discouraged and made to feel like I was wasting my time and life. But somehow, I kept going. A big thank you to Professor Osagbemi, met him in 2017, he gave me all the encouragement and support I needed later in my journey. I remember reaching out to my favourite person in this world, my brother Charles❤️ because I needed fabrics to practise with. Rather than spend money buying a new wardrobe after university, I wanted to buy fabrics and sew my own clothes. He gave me ₦30,000. This was 2015, when chiffon was about ₦200–₦250 per yard, crepe ₦300 and printed shirt materials around ₦300–₦400 even scuba was so cheap. I went to the market and returned with a Ghana Must Go bag full of fabrics😁 I practised relentlessly. I made mistakes, learnt from them and kept improving. And every Sunday, I showed up at church in a brand new outfit. 😂 Unknowingly, those Sunday outfits were becoming my first form of advertising. I would wear a style to church and leave with three, four, five, sometimes eight or ten people asking me to recreate the same outfit for them. That was how the business gradually began to grow. I wasn’t perfect. I was still a learner but people trusted me. They patronised me, encouraged me, recommended me and kept coming back. I will never forget those who supported me when I was still finding my feet. by @lolydia_couture
I got wiser on my own🥹🧵🌊 Betrayed by the very people I went all out for. Locked down, knocked down, and pushed into battles I never prepared for. I have known pain, disappointment, and moments when I had to pick up the pieces of myself in silence. But somewhere along the way, I learned. I grew. I became stronger. I discovered that even when the people you love let you down, you must never abandon yourself. Today, here I am, with my sewing machine, my dreams, and a heart that refuses to give up. Still creating. Still learning. Still becoming. I may have lost people, time, and pieces of myself along the way, but I found something even more valuable , ME. I got wiser on my own, and now I’m moving forward on my own terms. Not because the journey has been easy, but because my story is not ending where they tried to break me. Against all odds, I rise. And this time, I’m building a life that belongs to me. 🧵🌊 by @lolydia_couture
God can be trusted 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌 by @lolydia_couture
Apparently size10 trouser is falling off my waist and size8 is tight for my hip 41😁 Forever size 8😊😊😊 Going back to my proteins😍😍 by @lolydia_couture

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