Look, therapy is expensive. But Lagos parties? Basically, free personality tests. From your outfit to the event theme and your Instagram stories, you’re telling on yourself—and we’re listening.. So, we did what your therapist (and your group chat) won’t- psychoanalysed your weekend behaviour, and we found a few familiar personality types. Don’t be too surprised if it’s accurate, and if this feels like a sub, then yes, it’s about you! Let’s get into it.
The Afrobeats Brunch Babe
“You’re probably a Rehash Regular.”
You believe life is better with bottomless mimosas and a DJ spinning Burna Boy at 2:00 pm with your skin glistening under the sun. You’re the type who is always “soft launching” someone on your IG stories. You’re also fashionable, and that may be why you prefer to be outside during the day so everyone can see your is brunch-chic fit, and how would you get the perfect picture if it’s not bright? You invest in your looks and are bubbly when you’re surrounded by the right crowd/energy.
Diagnosis: Delulu, but make it aesthetic. You romanticize Lagos chaos with scented candles and thrifted sunglasses.
Treatment: Go on. Book that staycation. You deserve the illusion of peace.
The Beach Party Warrior
Tarkwa Bay? Ilashe? You’ve done them all, sometimes barefoot, sometimes in platforms. Your idea of self-care is dancing to music on the huge speakers with sand in places where sand shouldn’t be. You’re very spontaneous, and probably didn’t have any plans of going to the beach, but the city gets on your nerves, a boat ride and sunset under a cabana is your go-to.
Diagnosis: Escapist with commitment issues. You can vibe for 8 hours straight, but can’t reply to texts.
Treatment: Hydrate. And maybe unpack why you only cry during sunsets and DJ sets.
The Rave Spirit
You’re not like other Lagosians—you’re worse. You wear black in 35°C heat and claim you “only feel alive” under strobe lights and heavy Techno sounds. You believe everybody should be who they want to be, but low-key judge people who don’t like your taste. Your friends think you’re mysterious; your Uber driver thinks you’re possessed.
Diagnosis: Existential crisis with a rave addiction.
Treatment: Touch grass. And maybe let a little amapiano into your heart.
The House Party Hopper
You’re not paying 1M for Azul when you branch Ebeano and get something strong and classy for 200k and feed everyone you see at the House Party. You know how to get the best out of every situation and where to get the best of the vices Lagos has to offer. You love to party but hate the clubs, too much protocol, and you’re an adrenaline addict who likes dangerous and “we’re all adults here” situations. A wild night out without the crazy Lagos bill? You’re the expert!
Diagnosis: Resourceful. Dangerously so.
Treatment: Sit at home on one Friday. Just once. Prove you’re not afraid of silence.
The Nightlife Influencer
You came to this event for one reason: content. You haven’t danced once, but you’ve taken 37 videos and 2 slow-mo struts. People on your social media think you’re an “outside baby” and were invited to the venue, but IRL, you were just lucky to see your friend who got you into the venue after the bouncer embarrassed you. You’re always phone first, body follows, capturing every moment of the night. Also, your feet think you need rest.
Diagnosis: Aesthetic over everything. You speak fluent “soft life,” even if your bank account says otherwise.
Treatment: Balance, babe. Take one photo, then actually enjoy the moment (crazy, I know).
The Open Mic Philosopher
You were at a poetry slam on Friday at Ouida, a soul session on Friday at an exclusive social house in Ikoyi, and you’re probably starting your own collective next week. Your clothes are hardly ironed and your buttons hate to be held together (too cool for social constructs and rules). You say things like “energy exchange” and “blame the patriarchy and capitalism”, you also think Fela is whispering in your ear— oshey, freedom fighter!
Diagnosis: Terminal main character syndrome.Woke but lost.
Treatment: Keep vibing, but remember: your art doesn’t exempt you from brushing your hair.
Final Notes:
Whatever party you end up at, Lagos will always reflect who you are—loudly, shamelessly, and sometimes with small chops. So don’t take this too personally… unless it hurts. Then maybe do.
