The Revival of Ancient Techniques in Fashion

reinventing Yoruba agbada with solo

By Olumide Labulo

Fashion isn’t just about what’s trending anymore. Sometimes, the most exciting ideas aren’t “new” at all. Have you even noticed that baggy trousers are beginning to retake the centre stage? Ok, let me drop a shocker. Across Africa, designers are digging into centuries-old traditions and reviving ancient techniques that are giving the fashion world a glow-up that even fast fashion can’t fake. Some call it retro, but you can think of it as grandma’s closet meets futuristic runway vibes. Does it make sense? And then if you wonder whether it's sustainable and cultural, it's a big yes. In fact, it's a perfect trifecta for Gen Z and millennials who care about heritage but also want their fits to look hot.

Bogolan fabric from Mali

Nigeria’s adire, for example, is a traditional resist-dyeing technique from the Yoruba people, where fabric is treated with paste or tied up in intricate knots before being dyed in rich shades of indigo. For centuries, adire wasn’t just fabric; it was identity, status, and storytelling. Now, designers are remixing it into everything from tailored blazers to bucket hats and even handbags. E shock you? Then there’s aso oke, another Nigerian gem. This handwoven textile used to be reserved for weddings, coronations, and even the rich. You know, it was a proper VIP-only fabric. Fast-forward to today's trend, brands like Ethnik are flipping aso oke into sneakers and handbags, too. Yes, you can now rock Yoruba royalty heritage on your feet while walking into your 9-to-5.

Barkcloth from Uganda

                                                   

Ghana isn’t left out, obviously. Kente cloth, with its bold colours and geometric patterns, was once reserved for chiefs and royalty. Now, it’s a global fashion symbol, proudly worn at graduations, festivals, and red carpets. But what you don't know about real kente is that it is handwoven like aso oke, strip by strip, not mass-produced prints you find everywhere. So supporting authentic kente means supporting Ghanaian weavers who are basically human fashion machines without the carbon emissions. And honestly, if you’re going to spend big on a fit, why not on something that carries actual history, not just a fast-fashion logo thingy. Now, I'm thinking that's why Mr Eazi went retro for his pre-wedding shoots.

Barkcloth from Uganda

East Africa also has its magic. From research, I discovered that Uganda’s barkcloth, made from the inner bark of fig trees, is one of the world’s oldest sustainable fabrics. It’s soft, eco-friendly, and has zero synthetic nonsense. For centuries, barkcloth was worn during rituals and special ceremonies, and now designers are using it in contemporary jackets, dresses, and even home décor. It’s basically the OG eco-fashion flex, biodegradable couture long before sustainability became a deal breaker. In the same manner, Mali brings us Bogolan, or mud cloth. This fabric is dyed using fermented mud and plant extracts, producing earthy patterns that carry deep cultural symbolism. In a world obsessed with neutral tones, Bogolan is the earthy original. The fact that the designs can also tell stories about community, spirituality, and identity makes it way deeper than fast-fashion.

Bogolan fabric from Mali

The revival of these ancient techniques isn’t just about looking good; it’s about pushing back against disposable fashion culture. Gen Z and millennials are already driving demand for sustainable fashion, and traditional African textiles hit all the right notes: low environmental impact, handmade craftsmanship, and cultural storytelling. It’s like slow fashion, but with actual soul. Instead of buying a mass-produced fast-fashion crop top that falls apart after two washes, you could own a piece of wearable art that supports artisans, preserves heritage, and still looks mad (as in good) on you. Another cool part is how today’s African designers are blending tradition with innovation. Nigerian designer, NKWO Onwuka, created a sustainable fabric called Dakala cloth from recycled denim and natural dyes, inspired by ancient techniques. Others are combining digital design tools with hand-dyeing, proving that the past and future don’t just coexist, they collaborate.

aso oke an ankara for bubu

But let’s be real: challenges exist, yes. Handmade textiles aren’t cheap; call it the downside and you're so right. Producing them takes time, skill, and materials that don’t come from massive factories. Some people still pigeonhole African fabrics as “cultural costumes” instead of everyday or luxury wear. And the global market is full of annoying fake knockoff machine-printed “African” fabrics that have nothing to do with the communities that actually create them, like our ankara. The key is supporting designers who authentically work with artisans and pay them fairly, rather than those who jump on the trend for aesthetics alone.

For millennials tired of cheap fast-fashion cycles and Gen Zs (thanks to the Nigerian economy too) who’ve made “sustainable fashion” a lifestyle choice, Africa’s ancient textiles offer something fresh. They’re bold, eco-friendly, culturally rooted, and dripping with history. Wearing them is more than a fashion choice; it’s a statement. It says, “I know where my clothes come from, I know who made them, and I look damn good doing it.” So the next time you’re tempted by a fashion haul, maybe pause and consider investing in a piece of heritage because these revivals are more than just fabrics; they’re the future of fashion, wrapped in the wisdom of the past. And honestly, isn’t that way cooler than another polyester tee?