Fashion media has developed a lazy habit of treating “viral” and “culturally relevant” as interchangeable terms, when they describe two entirely different relationships between a creative and an audience. Virality is a number, measurable and finite, the kind of thing that appears in a screenshot and gets quoted in a press release. Cultural currency is something closer to a position, the kind of standing that exists whether or not anyone is currently watching. Confusing the two has real consequences for who gets remembered a year later, who gets funded for the next idea, and who gets taken seriously once the initial noise has settled.

In 2022, Heidi Klum hosted her annual Halloween party dressed as a giant worm - a costume so unexpected and elaborately constructed that it dominated fashion and entertainment coverage for weeks. She described it as one of the proudest, strangest creations of her career. Three years on, the costume rarely surfaces in fashion conversation. Nobody studies it as a creative choice or returns to it as a reference point for anything. It achieved enormous visibility, then disappeared from cultural memory at almost the same speed it arrived - a number with nothing built underneath it to hold the weight once attention moved on.

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We’ve got the first drop of 50 tickets to give away for an exciting event with Gabriel Moses at V&A East Museum. Taking place on Thursday 27th August from 7pm - 8.30pm, this will be an evening where the photographer and director sits down with V&A curators to talk through the people, places and relationships that shaped how he sees.

Moses directed his first campaign for Nike at eighteen. By 2022, his editorial shoot with Pa Salieu made him the youngest photographer to shoot a Dazed cover. He’s since photographed Skepta, Dave and Wizkid, shot campaigns for Louis Vuitton, Dior and Vogue, and worked with Jay-Z, Rihanna, Pharrell, Solange and Lauryn Hill. Last year he designed the Brit Award trophy, putting him in a small line of British designers including Vivienne Westwood, Yinka Ilori and Slawn to have shaped it. His frames are instantly recognisable, deep colour and thick texture, built out of his Nigerian heritage and a south London childhood.

If you are interested in becoming a GUAP contributor and telling stories that matter to the culture we want to hear from you. We commission emerging writers, journalists and video creators every month to cover the people, communities and moments our audience needs to discover. Your subject. Your voice. No brief.

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To some this title could be extremely vague or some would simply nod understandably. From the first Billboard Music Awards, The Grammy Awards or charting at Top 40 , a musician’s place in mainstream was always down to one consistent factor. Fangirls. You could also say “groupies”, “entorages” or “stans”. Usually, those terms are used in a manner of downgrade, like if you’re a dedicated fan you’re immediately a wacko. Yes, in some cases that may be correct, but what would Micheal Jackson be without the girls, without your mum?!

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Today is a big day for us.

10 years ago we started GUAP with one idea. Find the stories that weren’t being told. Platform the talent the world hadn’t caught up with yet. Tell it properly. That was it. That was the whole thing. Today we go back to that.

We are bringing back true journalism in culture.

Everyone is chasing clicks, algorithms and the fastest take. We are going the opposite direction. GUAP is becoming the home for real cultural storytelling - long-form, honest and rooted in the communities and creative worlds we cover. Writers and video creators who have something genuinely worth saying, covering the people, the communities and the moments that deserve more than thirty seconds

The New Era

We are proud to announce that GUAP now officially lives on Substack and with this we are introducing a subscription tier that not only pays contributors but gives our subscribers access to exclusive weekly free and paid opportunities, monthly free events, and keeps independent journalism alive.

Here’s what you get as a subscriber:

1. The GUAP Daily - one new article every weekday straight to your inbox. Emerging writers, creators and storytellers covering music, film, fashion, sport, art and culture. Discovery-led, honest and told properly.

2. The Sunday opportunities newsletter (Curated by The Isle Of CC) - every Sunday before the week begins a curated newsletter with jobs, commissions, casting calls and industry openings lands directly in your inbox. Exclusive to members.

3. Free monthly online events (Curated by OURPPLS) - masterclasses, live interviews, feedback sessions and community gatherings every month.

4. Partner perks - discount codes & offers from our long list of cultural partners exclusive to our members.

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How it works

Become a paid subscriber for only £6 a month and get full access to everything - all five daily articles, the Sunday opportunities newsletter and free monthly events.

Your subscription also directly funds the writers and creators behind the journalism, giving emerging storytellers a real platform to grow and thrive. Every piece is co-authored with the contributor and cross-promoted across our channels so when you follow and engage with their work you are helping build their platform too. This is journalism that gives back to the people making it.

We have spent 10 years finding the stories the world hadn’t caught up with yet. This is us making sure those stories have a home for the next 10.

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If you are interested in becoming a GUAP contributor and telling stories that matter to the culture we want to hear from you. We commission emerging writers, journalists and video creators every month to cover the people, communities and moments our audience needs to discover. Your subject. Your voice. No brief.

For more information/submit a story - click here.

When our Uber driver asked us why and how so many Black Londoners like ourselves had organised to be in Paris at the same time, we were so stunned.

Partially because the way he asked it implied that he imagined every Black person in London knew each other and must have had a zoom meeting or a massive Partiful invite coordinating our descent on France, and partially because he asked us this right after he had just ran over one of our friend’s toes in his haste to speed off with the rear passenger door still open.

You Going ‘Fête’?

21st June 2026 was my 22nd birthday and I decided all the way back in February that I would spend it with my friends in Paris at Fête De La Musique.

Everyone in London has been raving about it, and if it’s going to happen on my birthday every single year I might as well go at least once. It’s not like I’m getting any younger, so what better birthday to spend with a bunch of sweaty French people, as well as Londoners, than my 22nd?

As the trip approached, I noticed that the online discourse about Londoners attending and hosting events at Fête De La Musique was getting pretty heated, many French people expressing their distaste towards the incoming hoard of Londoners, and even Londoners questioning why so many people were drawn to the celebration.

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Currently on TikTok, DR Congo is responsible for inspiring an infectious dance craze, as the Afro-francophone song “Pilé” by French-Congolese artist and vocalist in the rap trio Triangle Des Bermudes, Mauvais Djo, becomes a global hit online. With over 52 million streams on Spotify and an additional 17 million for the Gospel version, the song represents a surge in popularity within Francophone African music, as listeners vibe from crowds of over 2 million Fête de la Musique ravers in Paris to a single French rap enthusiast in Vietnam.

@the.livinset

@sauguidefrancophonesapa

The Black diaspora in particular has never been so connected, with modern technology offering personalised access to cultures and sub-cultures from the comfort of a mobile phone. With the virality potential on social media, it strangely makes sense that a decades-old Congolese inside joke has thundered through the internet and keeps the connection between an 80’s Black American megastar and today’s youth alive.

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This Saturday and Sunday, Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park hosts Power & Respect, the second of four weekends inside East Bank’s new Music is Black Festival. It’s free, it’s outdoors, and you don’t need a ticket.

A search for “Black British women in music” turns up the same five or six names, most of them slotted into R&B and soul, like that’s the whole story. It isn’t, and it never was. That’s the gap lead curator Gillian Jackson built this weekend to close.

“Our view of Black British Women in music is outdated and it often centres R&B and soul. If you Google ‘Black British Women in Music’ the result is very outdated from the breadth and depth of what’s out there. We want Power and Respect to show you the spectrum of brilliant women, trans and non binary folk who are smashing it now but also those who have paved the way.”

Gillian Jackson

Power & Respect puts Black women’s role in music front and centre, not just the artists on stage but the people behind the scenes and the systems that let scenes exist at all. The numbers explain why that matters: men still account for around 70% of bookings across the industry, and within that remaining share, Black women are represented at an even smaller fraction. This weekend is a direct answer to that, built by pulling together partners working across legacy and future-facing live music and DJ culture into one programme.

It sits inside a bigger eight month season too. This is East Bank’s second of four themed weekends running through September, inspired by V&A East’s new exhibition on Black British music, with Queer Frequencies and Black to the Future still to come.

What’s on

Jamz Supernova curates Saturday across both main stages, bringing Lava La Rue, Terri Walker, the Cassie Kinoshi Quartet and twenty-five years of Cooly G into the same lineup. Sunday hands the reins to Yazmin Lacey, TYSON and BORN N BREAD, with yeahitsrenee and Sheila Maurice-Grey of Kokoroko on the bill alongside Cleopatra and Polly Chronic, two DJs stepping onto a festival stage for the first time through BORN N BREAD’s own competition.

Over at Sadler’s Wells East, The Dance Floor Is Black runs its own programme all weekend. Saturday opens with a family session before an afternoon panel on the women who built UK reggae, then Jade Hackett closes the night with Let Love Be Your Rock, featuring a live set from Carroll Thompson. Sunday winds the weekend down with L’attise Rhoden and Glade Marie on the decks.

No sign up, no ticket, just turn up. Everything above is free and unticketed, doors open from midday both days.

Full lineup and set times at queenelizabetholympicpark.co.uk/themusicisblackfestival.

After a two year hiatus, GUAP Magazine catches up with Ama to discuss the freedom of being seen, the pressure of a sophomore album, and why AMA felt like the only name this record could have.

The London-raised singer-songwriter returns after a two-year hiatus with a record that feels less like a follow-up and more like a reintroduction. Formerly known as Ama Lou, AMA sees her step into a more exposed and immediate creative space, trading cryptic lyricism and character-building for honesty, restraint and self-revelation. Featuring collaborations with Bryson Tiller and Brent Faiyaz, the album explores confidence, desire and womanhood through minimalist production, layered harmonies and honeyed vocals.

With AMA out now, a support slot on Ella Mai’s North American tour this summer, and her creative world expanding beyond music through ventures like her recent Salomon collaboration, Ama enters this new chapter with plenty ahead of her. GUAP catches up with the singer-songwriter to discuss reinvention, womanhood, vocal restraint and the freedom that comes with finally being seen.

Ama ! The music world has missed you. You’re returning with this beautiful self titled sophomore album, AMA. This album is candid in lyricism, some standout tracks being ‘I’d Do Tt All Again’, and ‘Life’s Better’. Where are you in the world right now ?

I’m in LA !

There’s been a bit of a hiatus. You’ve said the version of yourself that made “I Came Home Late”doesn’t really exist anymore - I’m curious - what changed in you to bring you to AMA?”

I Came Home Late two years ago, I’ve changed a lot. I’ve realised a lot since then and had changes in my career and personal life, so that was a closing of a chapter. I spent the next year not having a lot of pressure on myself,and I wanted to make music fun again - I’ve been writing since I was eleven, so I think I lost my purpose in music a little bit. In 2024 I took the pressure off of things - I wanted to make music for the sake of making music and for it to be fun again, it’s always been my salvation and in any mood I’ve ever been in I can’t help but write.

When I started making this album I felt a writer’s block which was weird because I never had that before and I feel like the only time I’d had it before , and the only thing that relieved it was being 100% honest in the writing and showing up as the most simple version of myself. With I Came Home Late , it was very authentic but I think I used character building as a little bit of a shield, but I definitely wasn’t hiding around cryptic lyrics and intense production this time around.

Everything on the album includes things I would actually say or do - if you ask me about the songs I can tell you an anecdote, or story, or line, that connects to my daily life. That’s why I wanted to change my name, because I’ve always been known as Ama, that’s what the people in my life know about.

There is definitely this talk of the pressure that surrounds sophomore albums. They say your first album is your whole life. How did you deal with that weight at all stepping into this project ?

I felt way more pressure before, especially in the beginning of my career - a lot of my potential was spoken about.This project was about simplifying things and showing up as myself. I feel like a lot of people show up as themselves in the beginning of their career and then change and reinvent themselves as they move along.

How could I put pressure on something I can’t change?

I’m, showing up as myself on this album, so I didn’t feel any external pressure because I feel like a different person to who I was when I made I Came Home Late - I didn’t feel too much pressure this time around

You left London just days after finishing school for NYC, and then came back after releasing your firstfew EPs. I came home late really leaned into those themes of home, and in return - what does home and location mean to you now in this album cycle ?

The concept of home has been important to me and been a very big theme in my life, whether having one or not having one, or feeling suffocated by the things that you used to consider home, expectations and disappointments - I’ve done a lot of work from releasing myself from any physical parameters that create home.

I love LA, when I first came here it felt like coming back here from a past life . It suits my lifestyle, I like to wake up with trees and isolate and be near the sea and the sun everyday, but I think that maybe in this album I have come away from a lot of the external validation, not necessarily to do with people, but this album is centred around me which I haven’t done before. I think the sense of home I relate to is bringing things back to myself and knowing that home is wherever I am, in the least cheesy way possible.

I know ‘Ride or Die’ was inspired by someone not understanding the intensity of how you commit to someone. Creating an album needs commitment. How intense did it get when committing yourself to making this album?

I’m not an intense person, and I wouldn’t call myself possessive. I think I have a depth of caring about things and people quite deeply but live outside of myself. Similarly, when I’m creating a project, it’s never driven by ego.

I always love working with people who understand that when we’re creating music, we do what’s best for the project. Obviously I fight for people to get the flowers and give credit where it’s due, but in terms of the creative process, it’s important everyone puts aside their ego and do what’s best for the project, rather than implementing an opinion just because it’s yours.

Ride Or Die looks at feeling alone in being disappointed throughout life and not being met in the way that you care about the things that you do. I think that people who are like that can feel a little bit alone.

One thing that stands out in this album is a sense of vocal restraint - it sounds like you know your voice and what suits you best vocally. I know voices like Brandy’s are inspirational to you, what drew you to embrace this restraint sonically?

I think that less is more sometimes, with the last album I felt like I had something to prove but that process is very intense. Every single song from that album, you could split up and make an album from it alone. I didn’t feel the need to have a lot of fluff around it, I worked with some amazing producers who I trusted sonically, and I think I wasn’t so controlling, I was happy to take away the adlibs, reduce the stacks, and every time I felt overwhelmed I wasn’t afraid to take things away that could distract from the core reason of the song I had written. I didn’t want to hide anymore.

When involving others into your world in the production side of things, how much of yourself do you have to let them see ?

I work with a lot of people who are pure music lovers, and in the game for the same reasons that I’m in the game - the people I’m working with I trust 100%. It’s like picking friends, the people you surround yourself with should never be accidental. It came together very naturally, at one point two producers that had never worked before but I had known each of them separately started working together, we all just got along really well. I don’t ever feel like the people I’m working with are stepping on my toes, and I do all my own writing - I feel like the producers I work with respect me for that as I respect them for what they do as well. Everyone showed up and was excited to work on the project, it was an easy process.

This project feels like it explores different facets of womanhood closer than your previous work. ‘Need It Bad’ with Brent Faiyaz has been received very well - what made you ready to explore that side of your artistry ?

The last project took twice as long as it should have taken to make, so I’m quite constipated with songs about my evolution and growing as a person and I wanted to show how I speak with my friends. It’s one of the choices I’ve made as an artist, and loving being a woman I wanted to show up in that honest way. Brent approached me with the song and I wanted to match the vibe.

We know his sonic reputation and it was something I’d never done before but it was a great experience, and I went in and matched myself to the scenario and what I would say

Where in the process did you realise this was a self titled album ?

Before I was with the team I have now, when I first started this album it was self-titled. I don’t remember who I told that it would be self-titled but I was told it wasn’t a great idea - I had another name for it for ages and my team approached me with the idea of it being self-titled. I started laughing when they said that because it was self titled when I started writing it, unbeknownst to them. I never told anyone it was originally self titled but it’s meant to be.

‘SO’ is written from the perspective of a man. When it comes to your writing process, do you feel more comfortable to step outside of yourself to tell stories or to tell them as yourself, as AMA ?

I wrote that song for another male artist a couple of years ago. The artist didn’t end up using it so I asked for it back and changed the chorus, realising it was written from a man’s perspective, but authentically. It came from real conversations that I’ve absorbed and put myself in people’s shoes. I realised there was something cool about a woman writing from a man’s perspective but also not being so satirical because it was intended to be sung by a man. I wanted to be a songwriter first, at the age of eleven, and I feel I’ve always had the ability to absorb other people’s lives and regurgitate it into music without any bias.

We’ve talked about how this project feels very detail-led and intimate in its production - how do you take something designed for headphones and reimagine it for a live space?

I realised I can’t sing ‘So’ in the key it’s in but I wouldn’t change it because the song needs depth. I always want to give people the experience that they are craving as a music lover. When you have a song you love so much you want to hear it in that form, or elevated. With my shows I like to build them in a way that I would want to listen to the music. If I was a person that loved this song the way I love other songs, how would I want to hear it after waiting to hear it? What would surprise me? That’s a question I ask myself. I care about the listener’s experience, because when you release music, it’s not yours anymore and it’s interpreted through the people that are ingesting it through their life experience, and you have to honour that. That is part of the process, and the reason you’ve risen to the place that you are. Honoring collective experiences is the beauty of it, and it doesn’t take away from your creation, it only adds to it and makes things complex and fun and adaptable.

The live aspect of being a musician is so interesting to me, I love it. If someone really listens to this album, would you feel like it explains you fully, or would you still feel a little misunderstood if the album was the only thing they knew you by ? I was talking to someone the other day and they told me they were annoyed when I was misunderstood. It’s never bothered me, but you can’t care about being misunderstood unless it’s by the people in your life, that can feel alienating. From my own experience I don’t mind being understood because it gives me the chance to bring something else out that I haven’t brought out before. My life has been pretty complex and I don’t take it as an insult, but understand that not everyone always has the capacity to understand in the moment, and it won’t dissuade me from doing what I do.

In honour of my favourite track - I’ll do it all again’ - would you do it all again to get to this point? All the way from 12 year old Ama with a guitar and piano - to on the cuff of releasing your self titled sophomore?

100%, I have no regrets. I am really grateful for my life, every single day. I like the person that I am and I ‘m proud of the person that I am. If any single thing in my life would be different, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I would do it all again - that song was the first song I wrote after the hiatus after my last album. I lost a lot of faith in the universe and the pursuit of being an artist. A lot of things became heavy and realistic and stoic, which is not typically how I am. The song is a conversation between the universe and I, personified as God so it was easilyunderstood. If you’re still here, you have another day, and you can’t regret things. You can always apologise or say thank you, or revisit a dream or idea. It’s never too late to just try.

Get 30 days free to watch MY FATHER’S SHADOW and more at mubi.com/guapmag

Honestly, this feels like one of those stories everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime. Not because it insists upon its importance, but because it understands something profoundly human - the fragile, beautiful weight of being alive, of loving, of remembering.

Directed by BAFTA-winning filmmaker Akinola Davies Jr., My Father’s Shadow follows a father and his two sons across a single day in Lagos during the political unrest of 1993 Nigeria. What unfolds is a poetic and emotionally layered story about fatherhood, masculinity, memory, absence and the things families often leave unsaid.

What makes the film so powerful is its honesty.

The small moments. The silences. The tension between love and responsibility. The feeling of trying to understand someone whilst slowly realising they are carrying struggles you cannot fully see yet.

Led by an incredible performance from Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù and shot beautifully on 16mm, the film captures Nigeria in a way that feels textured, intimate and alive. Lagos doesn’t just feel like a backdrop, it feels like its own character.

There’s also something deeply special about seeing African stories told with this level of care, softness and cinematic beauty.

At its core, this is a film about connection. About fathers trying their best. About sons trying to understand them. About memory, grief and the complicated ways love can exist inside families. It’s tender without feeling forced. Emotional without becoming dramatic. And visually, it’s one of the most beautiful films we’ve seen in a long time.

Watch My Father’s Shadow now on MUBI.

Get 30 days free at mubi.com/guapmag

GUAP

Your music carries a raw honesty that people deeply connect with. Where did that approach to vulnerability come from in your own life?

It came from Faith, there is a famous quote. Come as you are, to life as it is. My approach stems from realizing that being myself is the most powerful thing I can do. Especially as an artist I’ve found sincerity is the strongest tool I’ve got. The more honest you are in what you’re expressing , the more people feel it. 

Black artistry is at the centre of this new edition of Levi's® In Session films. How do you see your work contributing to that wider narrative, both musically and spiritually?

I'm  honored to be amongst them. For me, I look at my work as a contribution towards showcasing the beauty in life despite the hardships. And themes such as resistance and faith, I believe are deeply tied into my values as a black artist. Also the fact I have walked this path as a child of the diaspora I believe paves the way for others to know it is possible too. Kind of like the 4 minute mile!

So much of your artistry explores identity, home, and emotional truth. How have your early experiences shaped the artist you are today?

Growing up in London and figuring out who I was in all that noise was an intense journey. Never feeling as though I truly fitted in! I was soft hearted but grew up in a rough environment so very early on I knew I needed to know how to stand up for myself. Then in my later teenage years I connected to faith deeply and began studying Islam, this is where I found so much of my core values.  Throughout my life I've experienced such a desire to grow beyond the road map life had set out for me so from 19-20 I began travelling. Visiting countries like Malaysia, and experiencing new cultures blew my mind open.

Your music blends tradition, modern soul, and personal reflection. How do you keep your heritage alive while evolving into new sonic worlds?

The way I keep my heritage alive is through my core values. There is a prophetic saying that the best of mankind are those who benefit mankind. I always ask myself in every song I've ever written and every piece I ever make, is this of a benefit to somebody in some way, form, or shape? And as long as it meets that line of being of benefit, the rest is open for discussion! I still want to be as dynamic as possible as an artist. I'm excited to explore different emotions and find a way to communicate them in a way that can feel helpful to somebody.

Levi’s® celebrates changemakers and those pushing for progress. What moment in your journey made you realise your voice carried weight?

When I released Ysra. That  record came out right in the middle of Covid someone played it to their dying father, others wrote to me  about their own battles with grief... and it clicked. The pieces of music I had made in isolation weren’t  just my own therapy anymore. It was beneficial to others also beyond me, doing its own work. 

When you meet young people who look up to you, what part of your journey do you feel is most important for them to hear?

I feel the part that is most important to hear is the power of having a dream. I was a delusional Somali kid singing his heart out dreaming one day he would get to be on a stage. No one else around me even studied music, but that dream kept me passionate. Then there were the countless  open mic nights and singing in the street just to get over my nerves and just wanting to be heard. These moments shaped the man and musician I am now and I hope young people make sure they enjoy those early moments.

If someone watches your Levi's® In Session film for the first time, what do you hope they walk away understanding about Facesoul not the artist, but the man?

That despite the difficulties I’ve experienced in life ( as we all have) , I’m still truly grateful to be here at this point in time on earth. I feel blessed by the many hands that have shaped my life and have given me the opportunity to be here. and I am a man that wishes to pay it forward!

There’s a calmness to Kofi Stone that makes you lean in.
He speaks softly, almost like he’s thinking aloud, but the meaning lands with weight. Maybe it’s the Ghanaian poetry in his blood. Maybe it’s the years spent learning himself before the world ever caught up. Or maybe it’s the name the one his grandfather gave him the day he survived the complications that almost stopped everything before it started.

Kofi Ekba. Water Stone. A blessing and a prophecy. A reminder that softness and strength aren’t opposites - they’re a balance. He laughs about it now, turning it into something clean enough to sit on a streaming platform: Kofi Stone. But even in that simplicity, you can feel the story underneath

He grew up surrounded by creativity, but not in the Instagram sense: in the real way. Older cousins who seemed larger than life, Nas CDs stacked like holy texts, Nike fits that felt like armour, that one cousin who was just… cold. As a kid, these things matter. They teach you what’s possible. They show you what cool looks like before you can name it.

And then there was Vice City. One random day, one random mission, one random song on the in-game radio and suddenly, he knew. That’s the funny thing about callings: they don’t whisper, they interrupt. At ten years old, he printed out his own face, slid it into a blank CD case and declared his future. His cousins laughed. He still remembers the sting of it. But he also remembers what came after - the quiet decision to keep going anyway. The tiny seed of delusion that every artist needs. The part of you that says I know they don’t see it yet, but I do.

That delusion carried him from Birmingham bedrooms to stages around the world, while still keeping him slightly outside the noise. He’s never chased the industry: not in London, not anywhere. He’s built in Brum, built in London, then stepped back from both just enough to stay focused. It’s given him a strange kind of dual identity: present but not absorbed, visible but not dependent. An underdog who secretly isn’t one.

He talks about wanting acceptance, but not in the desperate way, more in the human way. Every creative knows that feeling: wanting to be part of the conversation without having to distort yourself to fit in. He’s navigated that tension with patience, letting the music speak and letting time do what time does.

And now, he’s arrived at an album (All The Flowers Have Bloomed) that feels like a full stretch. A loosening. A letting in of light. He describes it like a garden, different flowers, different colours, different shapes of him. The depth is still there; that’s Kofi’s DNA. But there’s a new energy too. The kind that makes you move without thinking. The kind that feels like summer evenings where someone opens the windows and suddenly everyone’s smiling. The kind that suggests he might actually dance on stage this time. He talks about risk like it’s a friend. He talks about fun like he’s reintroducing himself to it. He talks about joy like it’s the point of everything. Maybe it is.

The more he speaks, the more it becomes clear that knowing yourself isn’t just part of his artistry - it is the artistry. “If you don’t know yourself, you end up being someone else,” he says. And he’s right, the world already has enough copies. His work leans into the opposite: a refusal to dilute the parts of him that make the music feel lived-in, human, textured.

"All The Flowers Have Bloomed" shows all of that at once. The introspection for the thinkers. The rhythm for the dancers. The heart for the lovers. The risk for the ones who like change. It’s the most open he’s ever sounded, like he’s pushing the door wider for whoever wants to walk in. When you ask what he hopes people take from it, he doesn’t say legacy or numbers or impact. He just says joy. The simple kind. The real kind. The kind that makes you feel hopeful about your own life, even if you’re not exactly sure why.

In a landscape obsessed with blowing overnight, Kofi Stone is a reminder of the beauty in moving slowly, honestly, intentionally. He is a flower that bloomed in its own season not delayed, not early, just right on time. And now that he’s bloomed, he’s not looking back.

Under the theme “Everything Is a Remix,” we brought together the visionaries, creators, and trailblazers who are redefining what creativity looks like in this generation. From the underground to the global stage, each winner represents a different chapter in the story of where culture is headed next.

New Creative Of The Year supported by asos

Winner: GOODVIBESONLY

Kelechi Okafor is a Black-British public speaker, podcaster, activist, and writer; recently releasing her latest book, Edge of Here.

Cultural Hero Of The Year supported by Whatsapp

Winner: Mamadinya

Mamadinya brings real talk and lived experience to the forefront. Her content centres women’s voices in unapologetic ways, mixing insight, humour and heart to shift narratives and make space for authenticity to flourish.

Artist To Watch supported by Tunecore

Winner: DC3

Six years, 20 team members and over 100 parties later, Recess is now the bedrock of Black London’s nightlife scene, operating out of its HQ in Tottenham. Now operating internationally, the Sonubi brothers, who founded Recess, have found success in New York, Paris and beyond.

Visual Artist of the year

Winner: Teoni

Teoni paints emotion into form. Her visual work often raw, figurative and drenched in feeling —has made her one of the standout new artists repping London’s creative scene. She captures the in-between moments: stillness, softness, self-reflection.

Podcast/Online Show of the Year supported by WordOnTheCurb

Winner: 90'S Baby Podcast

The 90s Baby Podcast resurrects nostalgia with muscle. What began as shared recollections has grown into a platform that interrogates, celebrates and re-voices a generation.

Actor of the year

Winner: Josh Tedeku

Josh Tedeku is a screen presence you’ll remember but more importantly, a storytelling voice you’ll feel. From his breakout in Boarders to the upcoming Supacell, he’s moving with range, purpose and the kind of quiet force that marks a new wave of Black British talent.

Content Creator Of The Year

Winner: PAPZ

Papz has become one of TikTok’s funniest rising stars, known for his sharp skits, unforgettable characters, and effortless ability to turn anything: from rap beefs to everyday chaos: into pure comedy. With millions of views and a growing online community, he’s now levelling up from creator to director, bringing that same humour and creativity to the screen in new, bigger ways.

Fashion Brand Of The Year

Winner: CLINTS inc

Clints Inc have kept the heartbeat of streetwear alive while elevating its cultural relevance. Rooted in Manchester but scaling far beyond, they’ve turned drops into moments, fashion into voice, and community into movement.

Dj Of The Year

Winner: DJ AG

DJ AG is the street DJ bringing culture back to the pavement. Known for his viral pop-up sets that have seen surprise moments with Skepta, Ciara, and Craig David, he’s built a movement rooted in community.

Dancer Of The Year

Winner: Zoe Baptiste

Zoe Baptiste is a dancer and creator whose infectious energy has made her one of TikTok’s standout stars. With over 2.8 million followers, she’s built a global community through choreography that blends rhythm, joy, and personality. Every routine feels like a celebration - turning trending sounds into moments that connect people everywhere.

Stylist Of The Year

Winner: Elshy

El-Shaddai Nyagodzi is a UK fashion stylist redefining what modern style looks like. Known for her bold, editorial edge and work with artists like Odeal and on the 2024 film Raye: Genesis, she crafts looks that balance creative vision with individuality. Featured in GUAP and Deeds Magazine, El-Shaddai’s styling doesn’t just dress her subjects, it amplifies who they are.

Best In Glam

Winner: Faith Melody

Faith Melody is a hair sculpture artist inspired by traditional West African hairstyles, blending heritage with modern artistry. Her creations are elegant, powerful, and timeless - transforming hair into living pieces of cultural storytelling.

Director Of The Year

Winner: Lauzza

LAUZZA is a London-based director shaping the look and feel of the UK’s new music era. Known for his cinematic eye and signature Y2K-inspired visuals, he’s worked with artists like PinkPantheress, Jim Legxacy, and YT, creating videos that feel both nostalgic and futuristic. As part of the production company Compulsoryview, Lauzza continues to push visual storytelling forward making every frame feel like a memory in motion.

Fashion Designer Of The Year

Winner: Foday Dumbuya

Foday Dumbuya is the founder and creative director of LABRUM London, a British-Sierra Leonean fashion brand telling untold stories of migration, heritage, and identity through design. Born in Freetown and now based in London, Foday merges classic British tailoring with West African craft and storytelling creating garments that feel both global and deeply personal.

Brand Of The Year

Winner: Topicals

Topicals is a skincare brand founded by Olamide Olowe and Claudia Teng, redefining what “good skin” looks like. Focused on treating chronic skin conditions like hyperpigmentation and eczema, the brand combines science with culture - using bold, inclusive storytelling to celebrate real skin, not perfect skin.

Photographer Of The Year

Winner: Elliot Hensford

Elliot Hensford is a UK-based photographer and creative director capturing the energy of music, fashion, and youth culture. Known for his clean yet soulful aesthetic, his work blends editorial polish with raw cultural storytelling. From shooting campaigns like Nike’s Air Jordan 40 to being named one of New Wave Magazine’s Top 50 Creatives, Elliot continues to shape how modern Britain looks and feels through his lens.

Model Of The Year

Winner: Tanatswa

Tanatswa is a London-based model redefining what modern beauty looks like. Represented by IMM Agency, she’s already caught the industry’s attention with standout work for Mugler and a presence that commands every frame. Effortlessly blending strength and softness, Tanatswa brings intention to everything she does — representing a new wave of models who aren’t just walking runways, but reshaping the culture of fashion itself.

These are the spaces shaping the future and they are being amplified further with the support of NYX Professional Makeup and their Proudly Pro-You platform. The brand is ensuring that these community organisations can continue to create safe spaces and places so that the community can be proud, vibrant, fearless, and unapologetically queer.

West London Queer Project (@westlondonqueerproject)

A non-profit driven by the desire to connect, support, and give voice to LGBTQ+ people in West London. Through advocacy, events, and awareness campaigns, they’re building a welcoming and empowering space where queer people can feel seen, supported, and celebrated. From policy change to parties, West London Queer Project is uplifting the community one connection at a time.

The Connection Party (@theconnectionparty)

One of London’s sexiest queer POC experiences, celebrating culture in a safe and inclusive space for all. More than just a party, it’s a social network and movement where LGBTQI+ people of colour and allies come together to dance, connect, and embrace the beauty of diversity. Expect energy, community and vibes that can’t be replicated.

Jungle Kitty Club (@junglekittyclub)

The definition of freedom on the dance floor. A London-based club night built for Queer People of Colour (QPOC), it’s a vibrant celebration of authenticity and rhythm. With sets spanning Afrobeats, Amapiano, Dancehall, Jersey House, R&B and Reggaeton, Jungle Kitty champions music from Black and Latino cultures, turning every night into a cultural carnival.

The Cocoa Butter Club (@thecocoabutterclub)

An award-winning performance company and unapologetic celebration of performers of colour, The Cocoa Butter Club is where the stage drips in melanin and magic. Founded in 2016, The Cocoa Butter Club gives a voice to Black, Asian and racially othered artists through cabaret, classes and professional showcases. It’s not just entertainment, it’s a creative clap-back to cultural appropriation and a masterclass in representation done right.

Black Queers Connect (@blackqueersconnect)

A UK-based community group cultivating spaces of affirmation, joy, and authenticity for Black LGBTQ+ adults. Whether you come to laugh, learn, breathe or belong, their events are about connection and care. It’s a reminder that community joy is radical and showing up as yourself is enough.

Fluid (@fluid_london)

A London-based urban LGBTQ+ club night making inclusivity the main event. Hosting monthly parties across the city, they spotlight emerging talent alongside celebrity-level performers, creating high-energy nights where everyone can be their true selves. Fluid is more than a name, it’s a mindset.

These are the spaces shaping the future — vibrant, fearless, and unapologetically queer.
Check them out, show love, and pull up to their next event.

Find out more: https://www.nyxcosmetics.co.uk/proudly-pro-you

Powered by NYX Professional Makeup

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When asked which of these new flavours Brits would most like to try, Lemon Myrtle (24%)
and Pepperberry (19%) came out ahead of Matcha (16%) and Black Sesame (14%).
Despite the rising global popularity, over a third (35%) of Brits are yet to try any of the new
wave of Asian inspired ingredients, with just 3% having sampled Shiso and 4% trying
Pandan in the past 12 months.

The nostalgia fuelled ‘halmaenial’ trend, which sees young consumers embracing food from
their grandparents’ generation, is also tipped to help drive flavours like Black Sesame back
into the mainstream.

If coffee culture once revolved around the biggest buzz, 2026 looks set to be about slowing
down. Just over six in ten Brits (61%) 3 have already cut back or considered cutting back on
caffeine, particularly men (62%), with daily impressions for decaf coffee up 90x this year 4 .
When asked what they’d swap coffee out for, Green Tea (34%) and decaf coffee (32%) led
the way, with a third of Gen Z (33%) selecting Matcha as their slow-release caffeine fix.
Hojicha, a roasted green tea with a gentler kick, is also emerging as a contender.

The report also shows a focus on gut health moving firmly into the mainstream, with 84% 5 of
respondents saying it is of importance when making food and drink choices, rising to 93%
amongst 25-34 year olds.

Half of Brits (54%) 6 say TikTok’s ‘fibremaxxing’ trend or the growing focus on fibre has
influenced them, with Millennials the most likely (28%) to be actively increasing their fibre
intake. Articles on fibre and gut health have seen a 95000% increase in page views this year
alone 7 .

The latest findings come from Oatly’s Future of Taste report, a global first from the world’s
original and largest oat drink company that combines the interviews of hundreds of baristas
and drinks experts from across 23 countries, with quantitative trends data compiled by
researchers, CultureLab. The report findings have been backed by data from Censuswide's
poll of 2000 UK Consumers.

Speaking about the report, Rowena Roos, Oatly Global Head of Food and Drinks
Experience, said:“This report paints a vibrant picture of where beverage trends are heading.
People’s daily drink choices, especially younger generations, are being shaped by a world in
flux. We’re seeing drink trends go viral from London to Seoul, and technology is making it
easier to order, customise and share these signature moments.”

She continues, “Health, sustainability trends and global flavours are all blending as a
generation raised online is seeking both identity and connection in every cup. At Oatly, we’re
working with coffee and hospitality partners to turn these global taste trends into incredible
on-menu experiences.”

As part of the launch of its Future of Taste Report, Oatly has published its latest Lookbook
for Autumn/Winter illustrating how to bring some of these flavours and trends to life through
some iconic signature drinks for the future.

Read the full report here: oatly.com/future-of-taste
Enjoy the Lookbook recipes and imagery here: oatly.com/lookbook

The Relentless party package includes an all-in-one DJ controller, two powered professional speakers with subwoofers, all Pioneer DJ. The service is accessible through three Pirate Studios locations: Birmingham, London, and Leeds and will run until mid-December 2025. 

Commenting on the initiative, DJ AG said, "Over the years, I've been fortunate to build an amazing network and have always felt a responsibility to give back. This project is a direct way for me to support. It's about more than just equipment—it's about providing the tools for people to express themselves and build their own scenes, without the financial stress." 

For a chance to grab the gear, hopefuls can visit the Pirate Studios website, fill out an application form with details about their proposed event and preferred dates. Pirate Studios will contact successful applicants to confirm pickup and drop-off times at their chosen Pirate Studios location. 

A limited number of free studio vouchers will also be made available to artists as part of the project. This offers an invaluable opportunity to hone their skills, practice on professional gear, and perfect their sound in Pirate's network of cutting-edge studios. 

This new scheme is part of Relentless' Freeform platform, which was established to support subcultural scenes and champion creative freedom. Following the launch, DJ AG will participate in a one-off mentorship session as part of the Relentless Freeform Forum, offering guidance to aspiring DJs, producers, and MCs. Full details will be announced in October.

For more information and to apply, please visit: https://pirate.com/en/relentless/

Returning to Reggae Land for the second time, Jamaican-born Grammy Award–winning artist Kabaka Pyramid marked the festival’s fifth anniversary with an immaculate performance that set the stage ablaze.

The man they call the Lyrics Deity and Mystik Man delivered each verse with grit and conviction, his energy so potent it seemed to shift the weather itself, as rain clouds parted and glaring sunlight broke through, the crowd swayed in rhythm, basking in warmth summoned not just from the sky, but from the very essence of the performance. Fan favourites such as Red, Gold and Green, Believe, and Mi Alright stirred the crowd into a single, ancestral voice, a collective ceremony of sound and spirit. His sound is a deft fusion of roots reggae, dancehall, and hip hop, carrying the lyrical vigour of rap and his adopted Pan-African philosophy, rooted in Garveyism and Rastafari teachings. Though influenced by Sizzla, Peter Tosh and Wu-Tang Clan, his cadences remain unmistakably his own.

As an indigenous community, Rastafari have long endured international scrutiny, leaving many of Kabaka Pyramid’s predecessors alienated or blacklisted for standing firm in their beliefs. Kabaka, however, has managed to hold fast to Rastafari principles while remaining deeply measured, establishing himself as one of the most vital voices in contemporary reggae.

His music illuminates the realities of Jamaica’s inner-city communities, offering a counternarrative to the nihilism, violence, substance abuse and hypersexualisation so often crudely projected onto dancehall and, by extension, Caribbean culture. Alongside Chronixx, Protoje and Jah9, he became a cornerstone of the reggae revival — a movement that signalled a return to roots, Rastafari spirituality and conscious lyrical expression.

Kabaka’s message, steeped in Pan-Africanism, social justice and spiritual upliftment, resonate far beyond Jamaica. They trace an ancestral arc: from Africa’s cultural hearth, through the forced voyages of enslaved Africans, into the crucible of the Caribbean, and onwards to their descendants in Europe. For many Black Britons, reggae has long served as a groundation ^[1], a space to engage anti-colonial and decolonial ideas in practice. This has particular significance for men of Caribbean heritage, whose lived experiences echo those Kabaka narrates, including unemployment, systemic exclusion, disparities in education, disproportionate imprisonment and mental health detention.

Here, reggae remains more than music; it is a cultural anchor, shaping language, style, dance and the sound system traditions that continue to pulse through Britain’s carnivals and community life. Against this backdrop, Kabaka’s voice does not merely recall Jamaica’s turbulent and contested her/history, it affirms a shared struggle for dignity, healing and justice that stretches across continents.

Fresh from pouring every ounce of energy into the stage, Kabaka Pyramid welcomed the chance to speak. In our conversation, he spoke with humility yet conviction about his music, message and mission. He reflected on the guiding principles of Rastafari livity, and his deep commitment to holistic health and wellbeing. 

How does it feel to be performing on Reggae Land’s mainstage at Europe’s second largest reggae festival? 

Kabaka Pyramid: Nah, it’s joy. I feel like, from you see Reggae Land step out it’s like the best names in Reggae and I’m glad to be a part of it and associated with a great culture around reggae music. Caribbean culture, Jamaican culture, African –  yuh nah mean. Everybody inna one […] that unified spirit.

And we know you go by the lyrics deity, yuh nuh mean. How important is the message in the music and artist’s overstanding of the culture and the conditions of the people?

Kabaka Pyramid: Very important because music changed my life. Music really set me pon Rastafari path, you know. Through - mainly through really Sizzla and his music. He did that for me, he was a big inspiration. So I always feel like if I go-do music, I want to have that effect on other people. So it’s really the motivation behind the message and the lyrics. Mi is a lyrical man because me couldn’t sing – mi never could sing so me just go lyrics. And then I just work my voice – develop my voice over the years, and we do what we do professionally – it’s a joy. 

Definitely, definitely. I know [the song] Black, Woman and Child [by Sizzla] had a big impact on you, as well as Marcus Garvey’s Opinions and Philosophies which I hear in songs like ‘Believe’ and ‘Natural Woman’. 

Kabaka Pyramid: Definitely. Yeah. 100 percent. 

I’m a holistic man and I know you’re a yoga Practitioner; I know you’re an ital man ^[1]; and I see yuh deh pon Instagram doing pull ups. So, tell me what does livity mean to you and how important is it for one’s and one’s to hold fast to livity?

Kabaka Pyramid: It’s how you live your life, yuh nuh mean. Not just because we talk about it in the music but we affi really live it. You know we see if you live a certain way, you come out with diseases and all them summin’ there. We know that as you say, livity […] we see certain things and the only thing is to sustain life, and that’s really what it’s about. It’s how people live, sustain what we have and do things properly. We see certain things even as Black people [including the development of] diabetes, […] hypertension so we try to do the best we can do to preserve life.

With Reggae Land 2025 celebrating icons like Capleton, Chronixx, Mavado, and Dexta Daps, the festival continues to showcase reggae’s global sound and influence, shaping culture both at home and abroad. Reggae music is more than entertainment—it is an enterprise that transforms lives, creating opportunities for artists to rise and thrive while offering listeners a soundtrack that inspires, heals, and connects. If this year’s lineup is anything to go by, Reggae Land 2026 will be unmissable. Secure your place now: Reggae Land

^[1] Groundation generally refers to the state of being grounded or connected to one's roots, particularly within the context of Rastafarian culture. 

^[2] The esoteric knowledge of the Rastafari Livity includes the consumption of ital foods, often know by the slogan – “ital is vital”. This Afro-Caribbean practice would traditionally include strict adherence to naturally grown organic plant sourced produce, herbal remedies, and avoidance of excessive oils, salt, refined sugars or anything considered artificial. 

In today’s fast-paced digital culture, the way we consume music has drastically changed. Albums, which were once considered cohesive bodies of work and artistic statements, are increasingly being replaced by single track listening, playlists and algorithm driven discovery. Listeners rarely seem to sit with an album from start to finish and music is often experienced in fragments through TikTok snippets and trending Reels sounds.

This fragmented approach extends beyond how we listen, it’s seeped into how we experience live music too. Concerts and events centering music, which used to be more about emotional connection or genuine musical appreciation, now often feel driven by FOMO. If you’re even mildly online, you’ve probably seen the discourse among young people in London, around how people are going to certain events only to get content, a photo, and the right to say “I was there”.

Of course there are exceptions, take the recent Kaytranada concert for example. Amid a flood of negative video reviews claiming no one was enjoying themselves, there were still people there purely for the music and to actually enjoy the night. And honestly? If you love the artist, shouldn’t that be the point? Barring legit complaints like overpriced drinks or bad sound systems, when did we stop going to events for the music?

Talking to my parents, aunts and uncles, it’s clear that older generations approached nightlife with a sense of presence that feels a little more rare now. They were living every moment and the dance floor was about freedom, community, and losing yourself in the music. Just them, the DJ, and the crowd. There was a different kind of engagement - more intentional. For me, this notable change in the way we consume art has gone beyond a mild annoyance.

This shift feels like a cultural blind spot too. After attending Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter tour last month, I feel compelled to say something. The album isn’t just a genre switch or a sonic experiment; it’s a reclamation of black roots in country music and it’s a necessary cultural statement. From interpolations of traditional country to collaborations with newer black country artists, the album is doing the work of rewriting narratives and confronting erasure - and no, you don’t need to be a die-hard Beyoncé fan to understand or appreciate the intention, craft, and cultural weight behind what Cowboy Carter is doing.

Coming from a Black British Caribbean household, I was excited to hear that the next genre of her three part act would be country. Growing up, my parents had spoken to me many times about the connection between the Windrush generation, the British Caribbean community, and country music. It is rooted in shared themes of migration, struggle and storytelling. In the mid - 20th century, American country music by artists like Jim Reeves and Patsy Cline was widely listened to across the Caribbean, resonating with working class communities through its emotional lyrics and spiritual undertones. When many Caribbean families migrated to the UK, they brought this love of country with them, quietly weaving it into the musical fabric of British Caribbean life.

Unfortunately, messages like these get lost when we only engage with the surface. If your interaction with an album begins and ends with a viral soundbite, you’re likely missing the intention and nuance woven throughout. The art becomes aestheticised rather than understood. I saw a TikTok comment that said, “Babe why are you singing the national anthem, read the room.” After someone responded explaining the context, the original poster replied, “I don’t care what it means, I came to hear Single Ladies.” 

I’m not saying everyone needs to be a historian when they press play. Music can absolutely be just a vibe. But when people start dismissing or minimising the meaning behind certain songs because they don’t get it, I think that’s where we as a society are slipping.

Of course we should listen to music however we want, but I’d love to challenge you to pause and reconsider how you choose to consume music, art and live experiences this year. Have we become lazy listeners? Passive audiences? I think Cowboy Carter might have exposed that in all of us to varying degrees. So, I’ll leave you with this: the next time an artist releases something that demands your attention and the music’s doing something meaningful, try and meet it halfway.

Discover more from our music section here.

The event, marking the brand’s latest Metal Vent Tech campaign, had more to it than product drops and photo ops. Hamilton, who officially joined lululemon as an ambassador earlier this year, introduced a guided Slow Down Practice—an immersive moment of breathwork and reflection—before settling into a conversation with Dark. Together, they explored what it really means to “slow down to speed up.”

“There’s real energy being back in London this week,” Hamilton said. “To be here with lululemon, celebrating a collection that’s become such a core part of my routine feels really exciting.”

This wasn’t surface-level wellness chat. The duo touched on the rituals that anchor Hamilton through high-pressure moments—mental resets, physical discipline, and creative self-care. The conversation, candid and grounding, mapped out a shared ethos around intentional living and movement as medicine. It’s the kind of dialogue that feels overdue in performance spaces so often dominated by grind culture.

Hamilton's current campaign with lululemon—No Holding Back—spotlights the rigour behind the wins, giving face to a collection engineered for real-world training and recovery. Think: anti-stink, no-chafe, sweat-wicking gear that actually moves with you. At the event, he wore the Ripstop Relaxed-Fit Cargo Pant and Coaches Jacket in Army Green, paired with BeyondFeel trainers—technical but unfussy, a look that feels just as suited to a studio as it does post-session stillness.

But Hamilton made it clear: this isn’t about product alone. “I’ve always been intentional with what I wear and who I work with,” he said. “lululemon didn’t just turn up with product—they came with purpose, and that’s something I really connected with.”

As brands scramble to align with athlete-influencers, this partnership lands differently. It’s not just about athletic prowess or off-duty style. It’s about vision—how we train, how we breathe, and how we move through the world with meaning.

Hamilton is a man constantly in motion. But here, in the quiet of Covent Garden’s brutalist landmark, the power was in the pause.

What happens when tailoring meets storytelling, and fabric becomes the canvas? For Florent Tabaro, design is about more than clothes. It’s a blueprint for identity.

Florent’s journey didn’t begin at school or in a studio, but at home beside his mother. Learning how to sew so he could taper his jeans to make them skinny like everybody else. That small act of wanting to belong lit a fire that never left.

Soon, he was tailoring for friends - making trousers slimmer, hems shorter and silhouettes more personal. But being the go-to tailor came with limits. People only came to him for adjustments. It put him in a box. And Florence never did well in boxes, so he pivoted.

From altering clothes to altering perceptions, he dropped his first collection. But before that, heasked questions, reaching out to other creatives about what they wanted to see. The answers shaped his vision. The result? Pieces that weren’t just wearable, but necessary. People didn’t know they needed these pieces until he made them.

His design process is sporadic. Never forced. It could start from staring at the top of a building, the corner of a room, or the way a shadow folds on fabric. He doesn’t chase inspiration - he lets it happen. “The best ideas come when I’m not looking.”

That instinct is central to his work. Florent creates as the ideas flow. He doesn’t rush the process, because rushed ideas never hit the same. His tailoring background gives him an edge; he understands proportions, studies how fabric falls on the body, and obsesses over structure. Pockets aren’t just practical, they’re poetic.

He’s drawn to heavier fabrics with rich textures and weights. He looks for longevity and builds with intention. “I know the struggle of wanting long-lasting pieces,” he says. And every detail counts. Even when something is imperfect, he’ll add just enough to make it feel whole. That’s the true beauty of his work.

Florent’s style is unpredictable, it shifts as he does. “What I liked then, I might not like now. I’m always expanding my knowledge.” That constant evolution defines his creations - each one being a reflection of his state of mind at that moment.

One of his proudest pieces is the Homagè bag. A one of one rework crafted from black leather, inspired by a thrifted Burberry design. At first, Florent didn’t understand the love it received, but the emotion in it was felt more than seen and the bag even ended up in the hands of Lil Uzi Vert.

From the sold-out LYFE vest to a silver-detailed denim jacket, every item carries its own story.

He’s not trying to fit into trends - he’s building his own lane. Creating a demand rather thanchasing one. And through CreatedFlo - his collaborative studio, he’s extending that ethos. Born from a gap in the market for pieces he wished existed, CreatedFlo is where Florent explores new ideas, works with other creatives, and keeps emotion at the core. “I’m still learning how to form that emotional connection in the work,” he says. “But it has to feel like me.”

With each collection, Florent moves closer to his vision. He’s not catering to a demographic - he’s creating one. And once he gets there, there’s no telling how far he’ll go.

Discover more from our Fashion section here

In October 1982, the French Minister of Culture appointed Maurice Fleuret as Director of Music and Dance. Fleuret's vision sought a “call to arms” for musicians, aiming to bring music out of the concert halls and onto the streets. The result was the birth of la Fête de la Musique - a celebration and union of music without hierarchy of genre or origin. Each year on June 21st, spontaneous music performances transform the streets of Paris to mark the beginning of summer. 

Designed to blur the lines between amateur and professional, Fleuret's ideology for la Fête de la Musique was a festival of sonic  liberation; it remained open to everyone, regardless of social or economic status. And in today’s hyperconnected world, the spirit of inclusivity spreads fast. Social media has accelerated our exposure to cultural traditions, turning Fête into a beacon for music lovers and a prime target for commercial exploitation - fueling a new wave of brands and organised events ready to chase the same grassroots magic. 

As Fête de la Musique's online coverage spreads to gain international recognition, the debate over authenticity grows, but can France gatekeep a national festival which was built on democratisation of performance? Traditionalists argue that the festival’s essence is being diluted from its original purpose. Commercial partnerships, ticketed events and Anglicised branding have led to mass tourism within the city. Terms like “DJ set” and “live session” are increasingly replacing their French counterparts, sparking resistance from French nationals, with posts on social media telling tourists not to invade this national space.

Paradoxically, it’s exactly this international character which draws so many outsiders in. For foreign artists and audiences, Fête offers not just a stage, but a rare platform where music speaks louder than passports or pedigree. The cross between music and social freedom is not just a celebration, it’s the place to be for anyone seeking the raw, unfiltered energy of culture-in-motion, where street corners become the hubs of cultural expression. 

Though originating in France, Fête shares its ideology with many European counterparts, each with their own rhythm, purpose and politics. 

Karneval der Kulturen (KDK), Berlin: Born in 1996, KDK celebrates the city’s multicultural identity with parades, open-air concerts and a loud rejection of far-right nationalist narratives. Like FDLM, it’s chaotic, political and free.

King’s Day, Netherlands: Every April 27th, Dutch cities turn orange and go wild. While technically a royal celebration, King’s Day has evolved into a country-wide street party. Music is everywhere, spontaneous sets are welcome and over a million visitors come to the city to haggle and drink beer.

Notting Hill Carnival, London: While primarily a celebration of Caribbean heritage, Notting Hill Carnival is known for its colourful costumes, steel pan bands and traditional food. From calypso to grime, the UK’s largest street festival (and Europe's biggest Carnival) shares FDLM’s spirit of public performance.These festivals, much like la Fête de la Musique, are born from a desire to dissolve barriers between genres, classes and cultures. While each has its own unique DNA, they are all a reminder that music thrives when it’s shared, unscripted and in the hands of the people. They promote artistic expression, shape trends, foster cultural diversity and serve as platforms. In a time of curated feeds and ticketed experiences, Fête reclaims public space and sound. As its influence spreads from Parisian boulevards to Berlin’s carnival routes and Amsterdam’s canals, it continues to challenge how we define ownership, artistry and access.

Discover more from our Arts & Culture section here.