I was born with a silver spoon; my parents were the crème de la crème of society being that, my mother was the only daughter of the Oba of Lagos, and my father, the chairman of Balon Oil group. Suffice it to say, I was destined for a good life… or not.
I was six years old when mother died. That day was the worst day of my life, it was the day that the stars aligned for evil, and the Universe changed my lot. The day before mother died, she had taken me, her beloved son on a shopping spree because Christmas was in two days. She had been so busy with her fashion house, that I had thought that this year’s Christmas would be my day of mockery as I would not be wearing any new clothes.
We shopped the length and breadth of Balogun market, entering only the exclusive stores with their expensive, state-of-the-art interior décor. In this kind of stores, you must be alighting from a 2019 model of car, and be dressed in new season clothes, for any of the salesperson to attend you. After shopping, the six years old me needed a break; mother took me to a fast food restaurant, where I had lots of ice cream and pop tarts to satisfy my little heart. How would I have known that this would be my last time with mother? It was like the biblical last supper.
I slept like a prince, counting the days to Christmas, when I could show off my new expensive attire to the other rich kids in the estate. I always wore the best even when the other kids had richer parents because, when money meets a fashionista, a novel idea is birthed. Mother was fashion oriented so she had an eye for design and fabric, with this precision; she picked my clothes at the store.
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