Noyo Closet Opens To African Fashion

Creative directors and friends, Nontando Mposo and Yolanda Matyolo are proud African women who not only love fashion, but who execute style in their daily work and play lives.

Seeing a gap in the market for functional, classic, on trend pieces in traditional African prints, journalist Nontando and town planner, Yolanda, found that the natural progression was for them to fill this gap in cultural aesthetics, and embark on this journey which has now manifested as Noyo Closet.

Sourcing fabric all over Africa, the prints Noyo Closet use include kente, ankara, shweshwe and kanga. Clients are encouraged to select the fabric of their choice and submit which design they would like the garment to be styled in, and Noyo Closet will take exact measurements, and spin their magic.

With a successful launch held in May, a notable presence in the media and at fashion events in Cape Town, most recently the Mercedes-Benz Bokeh Fashion Film Festival(where the team were given Style Africa’s Best Dressed nod!); Noyo Closet are set to take Cape Town, South Africa and eventually Africa by storm with their distinctly ethnic print style spun with a modern, edgy, functional twist.

To order your custom made garments contact

For updates on new fabrics, events, sales etc, follow them on @NoyoCloset and Like their Noyo Closet Facebook page.10277594_10152128583753697_1407237412992786419_n














Cape Town Sub Culture: Fuck Fashion, get a real job.

A micro look at a slice of Cape Town street culture expressed via style, as seen through my eyes.

Shot by Tunde Olowabi of Studio MO, Lagos

Items available at Strato Africa and Sub Culture on Long Street & Obey Clothing at Unknown Union. Men’s stainless steel rings & dog tag pendants from Dan Fuller pop-up store, both on Kloof Street, Cape Town. 9also available at Old Biscuit Mill)

Styled by Melissa-Joy aka @Melfunktion

just a native.

Pulsating heat, alluring me with matriarch warmth;

This city, these people;

From Signal Hill to St. Georgie’s steeple;

Table top smiles and the sounds of hajis trading breyani recipes;

Sambals and cymbals, mother tongue precipitates;

Don’t mind me, I’m just a native.

Cobble stoned ambition;

Frown lines and Cape Flats intuition;

Spill over into this valley of lime and concrete;

Of hope and stealth and glory;

Spiritually quenched by distorted history;

Enveloped by art, irrigated with ancient drum beats;

Perfected through tribal sacrament;

Don’t mind me, I’m just a native.

Verbal symphonies, age old tales, slave ships and fish & chips;

 Snake oil identities, ‘five rand a bag’;

Colonially defined by a fictional tag;

Beauty and pain;

Equal parts of the parcel;

Haunted by screams, lost ghosts chained to a castle;

Fortress of good dope around my heart;

This place which birthed my dreams;

Augmented a near reality;

Downtown minstrel, uptown liberal;

Kaleidoscope souls of Obs hippie and Kloof creative;

Princeton pongs, craft beer throngs, gatsby superlatives;

Don’t mind me, I’m just a native.