PULL UP, Broke’s Annual Car Boot Tour Is Underway

It’s that time again; Broke’s beloved annual Car Boot Tour is hitting the road, with six stops across the country. 

This is your chance to connect with SA’s most enigmatic collective as they roadtrip to meet their national Broke family. From vintage gems to community favourites, this is where you’ll find the very best of Broke, straight from their hands to yours.

Each stop promises music, beautiful people, unexpected link-ups, and afterparties that nourish the spirit in the depths of winter. 

Imagery courtesy of BROKE

THE TOUR STOPS

PRETORIA — 25 July

DRAMA PTA (Basement)
113 Burnett Street, Hatfield
3PM – 8PM
AFTER PARTY: PABLO, 440 Hilda Street, Hatfield

JOHANNESBURG — 26 July

Outside SWANK Workshop
70 Juta Street, Braamfontein
3PM – 8PM
AFTER PARTY: HOUSE OF YMZ – RSVP via @ymz.world

VAAL — 27 July

Amber Shisanyama
Zone 14, Sebokeng
3PM – 8PM
Street vibes only – no official afterparty

DURBAN — 2 August

Location TBA
3PM – 8PM

GQEBERHA — 9 August

Location TBA
3PM – 8PM

CAPE TOWN — 30 August

Location TBA
3PM – 8PM

Keep an eye out for more information via Broke’s IG

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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Divine Alignment and the Art of Becoming: Inside The Creative Realm of LUUKHANYO

Lately, I’ve been pondering the value of artefacts as we progress into an increasingly rented digital time. The fact that CDs, Vinyls, Blu-Ray DVDs and old laptops with CD trays are now collectors items (reminiscent of Y2K) is a daunting thought. 

I say this because the first time I heard LUUKHANYO, was through the aux-cable of my father’s analogue DVD sound system and the sonic experience of his hit singles “Hii Roller” and “Open Casket” had an unbridled flair of nostalgia that I wouldn’t have otherwise experienced on today’s “perfect” sounding Bluetooth speakers.

Known for his potent ability to blend contemporary R&B, Hip-Hop, Funk and Jazz, LUUKHANYO, with the utmost precision, is defining himself to be one of the most sought-after, free-spirited entities in the alternative music scene. His lauded songwriting results from an observant ear, sovereign craftsmanship and uncharted passion for capturing stories that ignite his imagination, which is evident in the creative direction of his music videos for his lead singles from his forthcoming album.

It was an interesting revelation when LUUKHANYO shared how “Hii Roller” and “Open Casket” were significant turning points in the album. He reflects: So if you listen to ‘Hii Roller,’ it’s me arriving at this place where someone has broken up with me due to my own flaws, and instead of fixing my flaws, I’m leaning on the things that I think are going to correct it for me without me having to do all the hard work. ‘Open Casket’ is me achieving all these things that I think will fix this problem for me, and realising these things are not the answer—therefore I still need to go back to where I work on myself.”

 

Imagery courtesy of LUUKHANYO

That is the journey of alignment that has brought this album, scheduled for release later this year, to life. From his band “The Hii Rollers” shaping his musicality, to out-of-body experiences in Eastern Europe where non-believers could feel God in the room, to signing with an artist-centric London-based record label that prioritised the process that brings the art into being, community is at the heart of his evolutionary innovation. 

Honoured to share in his journey of becoming, I conversed with LUUKHANYO about who he is, the exploration of his creative mediums, the role of experimentation in his creative process and future plans. 

For our readers who may not know who you are, please introduce yourself and share your realm of creative expression. How was life growing up leading to your journey with music? 

LUUKHANYO: “You know, I’m trying to figure out who I am and what I do, and the answer changes occasionally. But as of late, the best way I can sum it up is I’m someone who finds a way to make ideas materialise.

Usually, I describe myself as an aspiring rapper, singer, or director, but if I take a closer look, I don’t think I do any of those things particularly well. I just sit in those rooms and work with people who help me shape the ideas in my head. Music has always been the gateway to that because I discovered my love and passion for art through music. As I grow and dive into it, I realise my passion is storytelling. I explore all the different avenues to tell stories without relying on music as the one medium.

Growing up, that inspired my desire to tell stories—I used to be very introverted. My mom is in the army, so I frequently moved between provinces as she transferred between bases. I struggled to connect because I arrived in environments I wasn’t familiar with, where people spoke a different language, and the culture was different. I found myself losing my voice and becoming introverted.

I found myself being an observer. I paid attention to people and always tried to find myself in a space before interacting with anyone. In doing so, I collected these stories without knowing it, shaping my desire to tell them. I’d see things from a broader perspective everywhere I went because I’d be exposed to much more. That, in essence, shaped my desire for storytelling.”

The music video for “Open Casket”, which you co-directed with Ruben Barkhuizen, is an astute example of cinematic mastery. How is the LUUKHANYO who writes the song different from the one who writes the script and develops visuals? How did Ruben’s contribution to the visuals enhance the visual story?

LUUKHANYO: “I don’t think I separate the two LUUKHANYOs—they’re the same person. It goes back to what I said earlier: I see myself as someone who makes way for these ideas to materialise, and I’m fortunate enough to work with people as talented as Rubin.

Rubin can walk into a location and just see the shot. He’ll know where to set up and the angle from which the lights will come. And while I see the final creative expression in my head, I don’t see the technical aspects. But he has the expertise—he’ll know when ideas clash and how best to compromise. That’s how he came in crucial when it comes to directing.

I co-wrote the script with my friend Orie, and once we had the story, I had an idea of what it would look like in my head. We encountered hurdles and obstacles every time we came into the room to bring these ideas to life. Rubin became clutch in those moments because he could problem-solve in real time. That’s why I credited him as a Co-Director—some of those shots wouldn’t have turned out like they did without his influence.

I’m just this one person who tries to not stand in the way of the idea. So I arrive with the overall vision, but I always entrust the people that I work with to help run with it.”

Is being able to experiment and delve into your creative freedom in its potent form what assisted you in shaping this album?

LUUKHANYO: “Yes. When I started creating this album, I knew what I was making. But as I was trying to make what I thought I wanted to make, the album turned out to be what I needed to make. That’s why I say I don’t know what I’m doing—I’m co-creating with something much bigger than me. I just learned not to let my ego stand in the way of that.

When something comes out very vulnerable, telling, and naked, I’m like, ‘Oh, I’m so scared. People are going to see me in this light and I’m going to look like a loser.’ But there’s a loser and a winner in all of us. We are not linear.

It was just a conversation with myself, assuring myself that being myself in all aspects is okay. It’s okay for me to put that out there and understand that I’m not only doing it for myself, but for the person who would have never gained the courage to do so if they hadn’t heard the music I put out. I want to give them the feeling that they are not alone in the vulnerability, fear, cringe, anger, sadness, and all the complex emotions we feel as humans.

In making the album, it was more about me learning about myself. The music was always there—it was really a portal to learning who I am and that it’s okay for me to be myself on these songs, unfiltered and unapologetically.”

Thank you for joining us for this interview. Before you go, let us know what the future holds for you. What’s next for LUUKHANYO?

LUUKHANYO: “I’m going to be rolling out another single within a month or so, then another single after that, and then the album comes. I don’t want to drop any dates if things change, but the album will release this year. I have many more visuals in store, and it’s also an adventure for me.

As I journey this path with the people joining me, I don’t know what to expect and don’t want them to feel like they know what to expect either. We’ll explore this thing together as we go. I just take it as it comes.

I’ve had numerous near-death experiences, and I understand that life isn’t promised, so while I’m here, I want to do things that matter to me. I want to do impactful things that can bring a lot of good and light into the world because we have so many things that do the opposite.

I look forward to seeing what the future holds. I’m just as clueless as everyone else, but I’m excited!”

Imagery courtesy of LUUKHANYO

Connect With LUUKHANYO

Instagram: @luukhanyoisart  

Facebook: @luukhanyo.luukhanyo

Tik Tok: @luukhanyoisart

YouTube: @luukhanyoisart

 

 

Written by Cedric Dladla

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FROM LAGOS TO THE WORLD: VOGUE BOYS KNOW HOW TO THROW A PARTY

There’s nothing quite like the unity of African spirit — a rhythm, a joy, and a defiance that has the power to move people, literally and figuratively. In a time when global culture can feel fragmented, dance and nightlife has become one of the most powerful tools of connection. Enter VOGUE BOYS: a party, a movement, and a cultural force born out of Lagos, with a mission to bring people together through immersive and Afro-centric experiential events. 

Founded by creative brothers Ebuka and Chisom Nwobu, who are also the minds behind the media house Ladder, Lex & Booker, VOGUE BOYS was sparked spontaneously and now exists at the intersection of ancestral spirit and global nightlife. With their signature events bridging continents, most recently with a takeover in Paris, they’re channeling the essence of Nigerian celebratory culture into spaces that have long been overdue for its presence. In this conversation with CEC, Ebuka shares his take on authenticity, the power of movement, and why the world can’t stop shaking their nyash to African beats.

Imagery courtesy of VOGUE BOYS

CEC: Tell us a bit about yourselves, the founders and creators behind Vogue Boys. Why did you start this initiative and movement?

Ebuka: Vogue Boys started out as something of a happy accident. I [Ebuka Nwobu] and my brother, Chisom Nwobu are multi-hyphenate creatives who run a film and media production company called LADDER, LEX & BOOKER out of Lagos, Nigeria. In January 2020 we decided to throw an all expense paid new year beach party to celebrate the creatives and clients that had worked with us in 2019. The party jumped so hard everyone kept asking “when is the next party”. This made us realize that the events sector needed us badly and we’ve been feeding the streets since. Another happy accident, the name ‘Vogue Boys’ stuck after someone said it while congratulating us for producing a fashion film in 2019. The ‘Vogue Boys’ brand then became the vehicle through which we explored more wayward creative opportunities.

CEC: You call your signature event series “Dirty, Sexy Rave” — how else would you define the feeling of or describe a Vogue Boys night? 

Ebuka: We actually have two signature event series. One is a day to nighttime outdoor waterpark festival experience called SUMMER COOKOUT and the second is a nighttime indoor warehouse rave experience called DIRTY, SEXY RAVE. Both of these and every other event we host are similar in the sense that they’re designed to be unforgettable. The unique feeling people recall from a Vogue Boys party is the freedom to dance and express yourself without fear of judgment or harassment in an environment where every single element is designed to reimagine a contemporary Nigerian party by evoking themes and elements from ancient Nigerian culture.

CEC: From Lagos to Milan to Paris Fashion Week, what does it mean to you to export Nigerian party energy to cities that are likely not familiar with this coveted African culture and experience?

Ebuka: It means that we’re living out our purpose and doing our bit to put Africa on the world map of youth culture. Standing on that stage at the Triennale Milano and watching this huge crowd of Italians matching my energy, shaking their nyash [ass] to Rema’s ‘Booty Bounce’ and stomping their feet to DJ YK Mule’s ‘Oble’ reaffirmed that our brand of African lifestyle, culture and experience has just as much of a global appeal as our music and arts. We’re now even more committed to going harder to the point where we can command the kind of numbers our siblings in music are pulling in arenas around the world with our culture as the headliner.

Imagery courtesy of VOGUE BOYS

CEC: The masquerade dancer is part performance, part ancestral presence. Where do tradition and nightlife meet for you?

Ebuka: For me tradition and nightlife are one and the same because parties and celebrations are a core part of who we are as Nigerians. In Nigeria, every milestone is marked by some sort of party or celebration. As civilization has evolved and the locations of our various celebrations have changed, the spirit still remains the same. This is the idea behind incorporating the masquerade dancers in our raves. In my traditional Igbo culture, masquerades are representations of spirits that can be found in every major festival. For me they perfectly embody the spirit of our identity and our propensity for spectacular performance.

CEC: What goes into building a unique experience for mounds of people who come from diverse backgrounds and different parts of the world?

Ebuka: The most important thing is to trust your sauce/source. I have found that authenticity always wins. Only someone who’s tapped in and at peace with their identity can create a unique experience. Our goal has always been to design authentically African experiences and execute them to global standards, when we do this successfully nobody can resist us.

CEC: There’s an element of defiance in how you center Africa without compromise — please share more with us about this defiant energy and has global recognition changed your mission, or just made it clearer? 

Ebuka: There’s something about Nigerians, we think we’re the best in the world and nobody can convince us otherwise. How we look, how we dress, how we talk, how we dance? What’s not to love about us? I think this is where the apparent defiance comes from, I just love who I am too much to be anyone else. Anything else would be a downgrade and we don’t do that over here. 

The more global recognition we get, the more obvious it is that what we have is truly valuable and the more determined we are to find more efficient ways to tell our stories and represent our culture on the world stage.

If you’re looking to immerse yourself in the VOGUE BOYS experience, their ‘DIRTY, SEXY RAVE’ (DSR) series returns to the Nigerian cities of Lagos and Port-Harcourt this August, 2025. Then, DSR will return to Lagos monthly until December when they’ll climax with a 5 000 capacity festival edition coinciding with ‘Detty December’ festivities in Lagos – a final, euphoric reminder of the power of African unity.

Stay up to date with events and announcements via their channels below.

Connect with VOGUE BOYS on Instagram 

Watch VOGUE BOYS on YouTube 

 

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HONEYMOAN’s Alison Rachel Debuts Solo Project ‘Trillion Petals’ with EP ‘Hill After Pale Hill’

After nearly a decade of writing and performing with beloved indie outfit HONEYMOAN, Alison Rachel is stepping into the spotlight with Trillion Petals—her vulnerable solo debut. The five-track EP, Hill After Pale Hill showcases a new artistic chapter shaped by introspection, raw honesty, and more analogue exploration.

The focus track, Lucky Girl Mantra, is a soaring indie rock anthem that captures the emotional whiplash between god complex and imposter syndrome—an internal conflict familiar to many creatives. Produced by UK-based artist/producer Sfven, the track sets the tone for a release that is as cathartic as it is carefully crafted. This track includes a video made by London based director duo Mika Lapid and Molly Moody.

Written and recorded between London and Hertford, Hill After Pale Hill features collaborations with a select group of producer-artists including Sfven, Nic van Reenen (Ex Olympic), and Radio Trapani—each bringing a distinct texture to Alison’s guitar-led songwriting.

While Lucky Girl Mantra brings punch and energy, the rest of the EP opens a more tender window into Alison’s interior world. Themes range from the quiet ache of watching a loved one suffer without being able to help, to existential questions on human nature, and the inevitability of growing older.

“I wrote all the tracks on guitar first, alone, before bringing them into the studio to be reimagined,” says Alison. “It was important to me that each song had a simplicity that could easily be reproduced for live when needed.”

With Hill After Pale Hill, Alison Rachel introduces Trillion Petals not just as a solo project, but as a statement of artistic expiration and personal reinvention. She is already writing for her next release, slated for recording in autumn 2025.

Listen to ‘Hill After Pale Hill’ here

Press Release courtesy of Trillion Petals 

 

La Deep teams up with Sindiswa Vinqi on ‘Risk It All’

Rising producer La Deep teams up with fellow South African Sindiswa Vinqi on the uplifting vocal house gem ‘Risk It All’. The shimmering original speaks to the infinite possibilities of love and is accompanied by a trio of mixes from Irish deep house legends Fish Go Deep.

‘Risk It All’ marks the first vocal production from La Deep, who began his production career in 2017 at the tender age of sixteen. Now with a half-dozen releases under his belt La Deep introduces the world to the stellar vocal talents of Sindiswa Vinqi, making her recording debut on this collaboration.

 

Irish house icons Fish Go Deep have been releasing music under the moniker since 1997 on a diverse and influential roster of labels including Innervisions, i Records, Chez Music, Large, Local Talk, Brique Rouge, Gourmet, Nordic Trax and their own imprints Go Deep & Ork Recordings. In 2006 they reached number one on both the UK dance and indie charts with ‘The Cure & The Cause’ featuring Tracey K. The original and Dennis Ferrer mixes are firmly enshrined in the canon of house music anthems.

La Deep broke onto the scene when he was only a teenager with the critically-acclaimed Rabbit Teeth EP. The release found widespread support from djs and press alike, including Mixmag, Danny Tenaglia, Joris Voorn, &Me, Rob da Bank and Skream. He has since released a handful of quality projects on top labels including NYC’s infamous Nervous Records, Open Bar, Hotboxed and of course Nordic Trax.

Sfiso Sizwe Khumalo, aka La Deep, hails from Bethal, a small town in the province of Mpumalanga, South Africa. Starting his musical journey from the age of 9 and releasing his first tracks at 16, La Deep has grown to understand music from a different perspective: he is a dj, producer, songwriter and poet who takes inspiration from the environment around him. A unique talent, he cites among his many influences Mount Kimbe, Dj Koze, Jimpster, Osunlade and The Revenge.

Listen to ‘Risk it All’ here

Press Release Courtesy of Only Good Stuff 

Digital Sangoma releases his new Afrohouse track, ‘Don’t Wanna Be Late’

With this new track, Digital Sangoma continues to carve out his unique path in the Afrohouse space, merging heartfelt storytelling with pulsating rhythms. “Don’t Wanna Be Late” is more than just a dance track; it’s an emotional journey that speaks to the quiet struggles we carry and the invisible distance that can grow between two people, even when they’re standing right next to each other.

Written for a very special person in his life, Digital Sangoma shares: “This song is for anyone who’s ever watched someone drift away in sorrow, yet still seen them try their best to stay present. It’s about that delicate moment where you can look into someone’s eyes and see they’re somewhere else — battling pain, fighting demons you can’t see — but they’re still trying to hold on to the connection you share. It’s for the ones who keep giving, even when they feel empty.”

Through soulful, echoing vocals layered over Afrohouse percussion and synth textures, “Don’t Wanna Be Late” captures that tension between presence and absence, love and struggle. It’s both a dance floor confession and a shoulder to cry on, a sonic invitation to feel deeply, move freely, and connect beyond words.

This single marks a deeper dive into Afrohouse for Digital Sangoma, following a series of releases that have showcased his ability to blend raw emotion with infectious grooves. His sound is evolving, driven by a desire to explore new musical colors while staying true to the emotional honesty at the core of his artistry.

As he continues his mission to create music that resonates across both heart and body, “Don’t Wanna Be Late” stands as a testament to the power of vulnerability on the dance floor. It’s a track meant to echo across oceans and connect with anyone who has ever loved someone through their hardest moments.

Listen to “Don’t Wanna Be Late” here

Press release courtesy of En-Touch Music

The Surrealist Magic of Dopamine Dressing With Fashion Brand Emily King Universe

For the last few years, fashion has tended toward ‘quiet luxury’ – The Row-esque form of restraint, demure across silhouette, tailoring and especially, colour. Make it tonal, neutral certainly; but limit the presence of colour in any way. Of course, this speaks to one facet of the trend cycle, but it has played a powerful part in creating a cultural mood defined by minimalism and understatement.

So, when a designer like Emily King founded her brand in Cape Town and sought to pursue her vision precisely as she sees fit — through the kaleidoscopic prism through which she views the world — the result is a defiantly liberated, surrealist smorgasbord of colour, fabric, craft and spirit. The brand is as eccentric and fabulous as Emily herself; employing multiple materials and techniques to evoke garments and accessories that you simply can’t take your eyes off, roving for each detail with awe. As Emily puts it, she’s in the business of “dopamine dressing”: a feel-good approach to style that prioritises joy and self-expression. 

Rooted in the psychological impact of colour and texture, dopamine dressing is about wearing what lifts your mood — vivid hues, exaggerated silhouettes and tactile materials that spark sensory delight. In fashion, we’re always attempting to derive some sort of originality out of what is presented to us, and most of us find ourselves firmly of the view that there are no original ideas left—just iterative adaptations and clever reimaginings of what’s come before. Emily King Universe as a brand is instinctively a bastion of originality, and utterly representative of who she is. Indeed, hers is a universe; made up of the constellations of her lived experience and the nebulae of her creative instincts. For someone who came up in the commercial fashion industry, with a quick ascension at Sissy Boy straight out of fashion school, seeing through the gravitational pull of a vision entirely her own is an act of independent authorship, and it’s utterly divine.  

Emily King Universe photographed by Conrad Kieser

Emily King Universe photographed by Neil Roberts

When I ask Emily about her creative genesis, her answer immediately orbits around the women who raised her. “My gran is definitely the OG,” she laughs. “She’s just unbelievable. She’s a bit of a hermit —she doesn’t leave the house — but she crafts and creates. From a very young age she’s just been making the most unreal things.”

Far from being isolated from style, her grandmother’s quiet life is deeply informed by the high-glamour pages of fashion magazines. “She gets all of her inspiration from runway shows and Vogue magazines. She’s always been heavily influenced by the luxury brands and big designers, which definitely infiltrates into the things she’s made me — like upcycled patchwork denim way before it was trending. She’s quite a pioneer. My gran could’ve been famous, I swear.” Emily muses. 

Emily’s mother shares this same flair, somehow a genetic code among her kin, “she’s also incredibly creative — she’s in interior styling — and just very, very trendy. Very fashionable. My mom is an icon.” Emily says, recalling the contrast between her mother and the small-town setting of her childhood. “I grew up in Pietermaritzburg, so she stood out like a sore thumb. She would fetch me from school in ostrich feathers. She’s just an icon — I don’t know how else to put it.”

Emily King Universe is rooted in a generational lineage of creativity that shaped Emily’s early life — long before she had any idea what form her own expression would take. That legacy now lives on through her ‘Universal Legacy Line,’ a capsule within her broader collections made entirely in collaboration with her mother and grandmother. Few things feel more defiantly countercultural within the mass-consumptive, hyper-expansive system of fashion than paring the design process back to the living room — stitching and scheming alongside the women who raised you, sharing knowledge, stories, and creative intuition. “Growing up with such fashionable, creative women was definitely inspiring. It didn’t make me feel like I was going to go into fashion, though,” she reflects. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I was younger, but I was always surrounded by creativity, colour and art. My house was always being redone — different prints, different textures. My mom is super innovative and makes do with not a lot — so that was my upbringing.”

Before Emily King Universe became the expressive, experimental force it is becoming today, Emily cut her teeth in the high-speed, hyper-commercial engine room of local fashion — most notably at Sissy Boy, one of South Africa’s most recognisable mass-market womenswear brands. Known for its ultra-feminine silhouettes, form-fitting denim, and club-ready separates, Sissy Boy has long occupied a particular corner of aspirational style for the local market: glamorous, but unmistakably commercial.

For Emily, the brand offered an unmatched fashion education. “I went to school on a music scholarship and thought I’d go into something with music, but it was quite limiting. Nothing was really jumping out at me,” she says. “I took a gap year and lived in London, and I was just so inspired by fashion and everyone’s eclectic style. Growing up in Pietermaritzburg, it was just insane — I didn’t know where to look. It was overwhelming. But it became clear that I wanted to study fashion. I moved back and started studying at Fedisa, and then I got my first job at Sissy Boy — and I was there for 10 years.”

What followed was a crash course in the inner workings of South Africa’s fashion industry. “From day one at Sissy Boy, I was thrown in the deep end. I was appointed as a junior designer, but when I arrived, I was actually the main designer for all the fashion commodities — dresses, jumpsuits, shirts. Not denim, but all the fashion pieces. There wasn’t really a handover — it was just full-on: ‘This is your role now.’” The pace was relentless, but indispensable, “I learned as quickly as I could. I got some amazing opportunities early on — I started travelling with the brand, doing buying trips with the best friend I worked with. It was quite a small team, and there was a high staff turnover, so I kept getting promoted. I went from designing to buying, then our design director resigned, and I became head of design and buying. Two years later I was promoted again to design executive.”

It’s a trajectory that reveals the tension between creativity and structure — a duality familiar to many designers who build their practice inside commercial studios. In many ways, Emily was succeeding by all conventional measures, but something in her was beginning to stir. I’m not sure commercial fashion could ever contain the spirited expression that Emily commands, to which she notes that “to be honest, I didn’t think having my own brand was an option. I didn’t know there was anything else out there for me. I thought, ‘this is my life.’ My parents are also quite traditional — you work a 9–5, you get benefits, medical aid. My dad wants me to be looked after. So it was a shock when I started toying with the idea of resigning.”

Emily’s decision to go her own way was not made lightly. After ten years in corporate fashion, she cashed in her entire Provident Fund to launch her brand — a leap of faith driven by creative frustration and a growing discomfort with the wastefulness of large-scale production. “I really loved what I did, but in the last few years of working I felt a bit trapped,” she says. “I wasn’t inspired by any other brands or retailers. It took a lot of strategic thinking, moodboarding, getting advice, to take the leap, and I have no regrets. I just know I’m on the right path.”

Emily King Universe, courtesy of Emily King

Emily and her childhood eccentric outfits courtesy of her Mama

Emily’s years in commercial fashion had exposed her to the machinery of mass production — the volume, the disposability, the environmental blind spots. “I’d go on buying trips and come back with massive suitcases of samples, only to cut through them with scissors before I even left the airport, just to avoid customs duties. It started to feel so wrong.” Emily has seen the factories in China, and knows the exact playbook to drive profit. “I know the recipe to make money,” she admits. “I feel a calling to bring it back to South Africa and to bring the fashion I wanted to create back to more of an art form.”

That calling now shapes every element of her brand — from small-run production to an insistence on care, craft and local connection. “It’s not the most sustainable business model. I’m not growing exponentially or wholesaling large volumes, but I’ve thought a lot about what I want to stand for. You can’t just churn out endless styles, waste materials and be thoughtless about where things come from. There has to be care — about the materials, about the hands making them. I’m very insistent that everything I create has a purpose.”

Emily King Universe may still be in its early phase, but its creative world is deeply considered and intimately constructed. Emily’s approach to building her range is intuitive, personal, and tactile — worlds apart from the fast-paced, trend-chasing cycles of commercial fashion she left behind. “I usually start by thinking about something I wear a lot,” she explains. “Especially for the ready-to-wear clothing, it’s about staple pieces I’d want in my own wardrobe.” Each garment emerges from Emily’s own style instincts, and then gets filtered through a process of careful refinement.

Some of the most distinctive pieces come from what Emily calls a “crazy design week” with her mother and grandmother — a now-annual ritual that birthed the upcycled range, ‘Universal Legacy Line’ (I’m obsessed); “it’s happened three times now. My mom’s collected vintage jewellery and doilies,” she says. “Weirdly, it all circles back to my Fedisa graduate collection, which was made out of doilies — I actually won the Foschini Design Award with it, like 10 or 11 years ago.” Their design process is chaotic in the best way. “We lay everything out — the house looks like a bomb’s gone off. I’ll pin on the mannequin, my gran will machine sew, my mom does the handwork. It’s a full collaboration.” Her grandmother, ever the punk traditionalist in her own way, might insist the edges stay raw. “She’s so ahead of it,” Emily laughs.

While trends like crochet and upcycling are having a resurgence, Emily notes that these practices have been part of her process for years. “I’ve spent so much time trying to find the right hands to make the crochet pieces,” she says. “I literally found people’s aunties, mums, nannies, grannies. I’ve got three phenomenal suppliers right now.” These include a young woman and her sister who crochet together, a woman named Patricia who handles sampling and production, and even “an incredible guy in the Drakensberg mountains who has a vintage loom and makes scarves for me.”

Across each category — whether it’s a raw-edged hoodie influenced by her gran, a tracksuit in locally made fleece, or her screen-printed t-shirts that she refused to cheapen for margin’s sake — the thread running through is uncompromising craft. “I wasn’t willing to compromise,” Emily says simply. While she continues to develop the clothing side, her heart is increasingly pulled toward accessories. “I’m looking into doing a lost wax course to make more silver jewellery, and hopefully cast my own pendants and charms.” Emily makes her jewellery by hand, and I’m currently obsessed with the wild siren-esque glamour of the Ethereal Collection.

At its core, Emily King Universe is about connection — to materials, to makers, to memory. “I’m still figuring out what categories to grow and where to put more energy,” she says. “Building this little network has been such a dream.”

At its heart, Emily King Universe is a vivid antidote against fashion’s greyscale minimalism — a kaleidoscopic world built from emotion and generational synergy. In an industry often obsessed with polish and polish alone, Emily’s pieces are charged with feeling. “What really inspires me is a feeling,” she says. “Like an emotion you get when you put something on. Maybe it makes you feel childlike or cheeky or confident. I’ve always been drawn to items that evoke mood.”

This intuitive, emotive approach sits at the core of Emily’s design philosophy, and her personal wardrobe reflects it completely. “My cupboard looks like a dress-up box — if it’s a t-shirt, it has piercings or something weird on it. I like people doing a double take.” Creating space for that kind of expression in the real world comes with nuance, and I feel that Emily’s mastery is inviting her customers to take risks and play; “sometimes it takes a festival for someone to wear a colourful necklace,” she reflects. “So it’s a dance — figuring out how to stay relevant and commercial in such a niche space.” Personally, I think our world is longing for the fantastical expression of fashion as escapism. In this, Emily couldn’t be better situated. 

Emily’s ultimate vision is fashion as a celebration — of self, of life, of the everyday, and “for fashion to slow down. For people to feel confident and excited to express themselves. I don’t want people to wait for a special occasion to wear something amazing — we should all dress like life’s the party.” This philosophy is a reminder that conscious fashion needn’t be flat or neutral. On dopamine-dressing, Emily muses, “If I’m having a bad day, it’s probably because I’m in a tracksuit,” she laughs. “I always feel better if I’ve got lip gloss on or a cute top. Clothing and accessories are such an amazing way to feel great and to have a colourful, beautiful life.”

In an era of overproduction and overexposure, in which culture appears to be algorithmically flattened, Emily King’s Universe offers a compelling alternative; if fashion is to have a future worth believing in, I reckon it might just look something like this.

Written by Holly Beaton

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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Should we be spending more time alone? The tensions between solitude and socialising

When was the last time you confronted your own feelings, sat with your own thoughts, or just did something purely for yourself? The night before I left for a silent retreat, sitting in an overpriced, ambient wine bar with my partner, I remember saying that something felt off. That I had more to give, and not enough time or space to deliver it. 10 days in meditation would be the thing to fix me. 

5 days later, marinating in obsessive thoughts and squealing under the pressure of a straightened spine, isolation and introspection felt more like a wound than a salve. But by the end of it, I remember giggling at how much my own mind had changed. The space away had confirmed the simplest of things: that if you’re willing to remove yourself from the safety of your friends and family, and the filter they provide, you may find answers to questions you didn’t even know you had. Because even after all this time in a body, you can still surprise yourself with how little you know. 

But when friends began asking how I did it, where I was going next, and how I could not go crazy ‘out there all alone’, I began to question whether my search for myself was overindulgent. In a world where the built environment, our social architecture, economy and technology are increasingly engineered to manufacture isolation and individualism, wasn’t it strange to seek out solitude so determinedly? As a remote worker, living a plane trip away from the city I grew up in and the parents that shaped me, what more space could I need? 

Photography by Alina Rossoshanska via Pexels

Photography by Umutsrln via Pexels

In their essay, On Loneliness for Pioneer Works, Hannah Baer argues that our culture rewards transactional, borderline compulsive behaviour. Social media isn’t very social at all, urban developers prioritise bachelor pads over neighbourhoods, and industry encourages competition. People are warning us that isolation is bad for our mental health, that disconnected communities can endanger an elderly population in need of care, and that too much time alone can disorient us from reality. And they’re not wrong. 

Yet, on the other side of that debate, there’s the recognition that time, more and more, seems to be a scarce resource, and that too much time together can be taxing too. The erratic rush of our schedules always leaves us feeling as though the hours have gotten away. And even when your social and mental battery blinks red, the guilt of not arriving 100% to every event or social interaction feels criminal. When it comes to our social lives and how we face the world, so many of us are fixated with living up to the pressure to be seen, to be perfect, and to perform. 

In such a context, personal embodiment is often last on the list of priorities. And, in some ways, it’s caused by a deep fear of loneliness or even ostracism, spurred on by the discourse surrounding anti-social behaviour and heightened anxiety. But for all my searches and time spent alone, I came back feeling closer to my loved ones, not further away. After chasing productivity and crashing into burnout, being alone forced me to reclaim control over my space, tempo and time, to care for myself so that I could arrive whole for others, rather than relying on them to make me feel that way. There are nuances to these debates, and important distinctions to be made between loneliness and solitude –  the one is a byproduct of disconnect, and the other is the calm at the end of self-reflection. 

But as the world becomes louder and more overstimulating, and the quiet becomes both more desirable and more scarce, aloneness is repackaged and sold to us as a luxury in the form of isolated houses on lonely hills, or VIP sections with capacity controls. In response to our cortisol spikes, the attention economy is rebranding, marketing alone time and absence to those of us who want to unplug from the constant information overload. Ironically, these reconfigurations work in exact opposition to what we have historically understood aloneness to be: the torture of solitary confinement, the terror of being separated from the group, or the epidemic of loneliness that accompanies disasters like COVID-19 lockdowns. These campaigns don’t discern solitude in relation to community; they simply put a price point on silence and digital detox. Perhaps this is why solitude is still, in many ways, perceived as selfishness.

 

Photographed by Drew Haller

Photographed by Adeniuso Gomes via Pexels

Citing Haidt and Fisher-Quann, Baer argues that to resolve the fracturing of society, we must be willing to place ourselves in closer proximity to others, “to be tougher in trying to stay in community and in relation, to hold complexity and move towards difficulty, not away from it.” 

There isn’t always nobility in isolation. At times, it tends towards a systemic individualism that has been at the centre of a malignant collective ego, one which has grown to root out communities, friends and families in favour of ‘self-love before everything’. This same idea is feeding growing tendencies to seek freedom and avoid interdependence in favour of not getting hurt, or admitting to the so-called humiliation of needing others. 

But all of this being said, I still believe that sometimes running towards complexity and difficulty can mean running towards yourself, asking yourself how you can reconcile rest and rediscovery with intentional, caring relationships. In these instances, solitude can be a tool to foster a deepened relational presence with the ones you love most, those who you haven’t always had the capacity for. When your own mind starts to reflect the exterior more than it does yourself, and you begin to rely on others to affirm, soothe or appease that which they cannot understand, and which you cannot easily explain, then it is likely time to look in.

As Rilke says, “For there is only one solitude, and it is large and not easy to bear. It comes almost all the time when you’d gladly exchange it for any togetherness, however banal and cheap… But perhaps that is precisely the time when solitude ripens.” Solitude is difficult and uncomfortable because we do not always practise it like we should. Scrolling in our rooms in the dark is not the same as a long walk on looping trails, savouring a dinner alone with closed eyes, or reading and writing alongside a rock pool on a mountain pass. When practised with intention, its reward is akin to the perspective you gain when summiting a mountain. It reminds you of what you have and why it’s worth returning to. It isn’t an escape from others, it’s how we return more present, more generous and more whole.  Because at the centre of the continuum of solitude, whose extremes are luxury or torture, there is a simple and humble privilege of aloneness as a manner of keeping watch.

 

Written by Drew Haller

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Notes on Creative and Cultural Leadership with Noxolo Mafu

Chances are, you’ve experienced or loved something that Noxolo Mafu has had her hand in. Her career, across journalism, fashion, television, and brand leadership, spans some of our most beloved cultural institutions, and her portfolio is a masterclass in cultural influence. Over the past two decades, she’s moved deftly through the changing landscape of South African media; from breaking stories on the frontlines of journalism to shaping vision of the modern woman’s interior and exterior life as Cosmopolitan’s Deputy Editor, to captivating morning audiences on Expresso, and now, commanding the cultural current as Senior Brand Manager at adidas — Nox is a connector, a creative and an ardent believer that mass culture is where the magic is. 

This reframing that she shares with me, of mass culture as the fruits of our zeitgeist, is a necessary reorientation for our young democracy, where representation and creative ownership are as political as they are personal. South Africa is richer for voices like Nox’s; ones that understand how to express the narrative, and how to move it forward with substance and soul.

That passion for narrative, and for instituting what stories are told and how, has been with Nox since the beginning. “I’ve always been drawn to storytelling, even before I had the language for it,” Nox shares, “initially, I wanted to be a TV presenter, then a documentarian — I was fascinated by what visuals could evoke emotionally. I was especially interested in showing more range in how we express culture. Back then, there wasn’t enough representation of things like street style or township culture in mainstream media, and I really felt compelled to be a voice for that.”

Nox Mafu photographed by Elsa Pallet

Nox Mafu photographed by Gabriel Bambo

Nox’s edification took place at a pivotal cultural moment; #FeesMustFall was the awakening that sharpened her political lens and softened her journalistic approach. The movement — a nationwide student-led protest demanding free, decolonised education — shook institutions to their core and demanded that South Africa reckon with its unfinished liberation. It remains the single biggest youth uprising since 1994, and a defining moment for a generation of young thinkers, creatives, and leaders. As Nox explains, “when I studied journalism at Rhodes, I truly believed I’d become a hard news reporter — eNCA-style. Being on the frontline during FeesMustFall and in political spaces made me realise I was too sensitive to be in those environments long-term. That was when I started gravitating toward lifestyle and still telling important stories, but through a lens that allowed for more emotional connection, more nuance, and more joy.” There are many ways to chart the future, and understanding that one’s activism can express in many ways is the work of many of our generation’s South Africans. 

It’s no secret that our reverence for the nostalgic era of magazine culture heavily informs our work here at CEC — and this golden editorial era was a space that Nox found herself immersed in, as Deputy Editor at Cosmopolitan. My memories of the magazine are cloaked in feminine ritual, paging through as a young teen, reading about womanhood in all its contradictions, curiosities, and complexities. 

Nox reminisces that, “at Cosmopolitan, I found this beautiful meeting point — I could still do meaningful journalism, but centred on women, their voices, and their power. Whether it was around sexuality, politics, or business, it was about liberation, ultimately,” and that, “I started to realise the work I wanted to do didn’t have to live in opposition to commerce — there was a way to make culture-driven content that was also commercially savvy. That’s when I started thinking more strategically, learning how to sustain a magazine, a brand, or a campaign.” The idea that a women’s magazine was unserious, superficial, or apolitical begs the outdated scars of our male-dominated culture, and Nox’s perspective is a reminder that a feminist and nuanced lens can be carried with you wherever you go, and wherever you work. That spaces often dismissed as light or frivolous are, in fact, sites of powerful cultural production and identity formation, are essential — and we can create them almost anywhere we find ourselves.

Today, Nox is the Brand Manager of Originals at adidas South Africa — the local arm of the iconic sports brand that has consistently engaged culture in untold ways through lifestyle and creativity. Through her work, alongside her team and their extended creative agency, Room Studio, Nox has helped shape some of the most inspiring and important cultural output of the last five years. I’d argue, of the last twenty, giving an international brand a truly and deeply local voice and expression. When the opportunity came up for an eighteen-month contract at adidas, I didn’t hesitate — I didn’t even tell my family. I just quit my job and took the risk. I told myself, let me do so well that they’re forced to keep me. Well, they did. That risk completely changed my life. I never imagined myself in sports — I was actually terrible at it in school — but the lifestyle side of adidas was a dream. I get to tell stories through product, through creativity, through people.”

At every point in her journey, Nox has brought not just skill, but a distinct and necessary perspective — one sharpened by the awareness that people like her were rarely in the room, “in every space I’ve worked in, I’ve tried to bring a different perspective — mostly because there just weren’t enough people like me in the room. Whether it was pitching stories in the newsroom or commissioning features, I’ve always looked for the intersection between how people live, what they believe, and how that shapes culture. I remember being so adamant about getting alternative DJs and artists featured in Cosmo — that kind of underground-meets-mainstream crossover is something I’ve always wanted to champion.”

Nox Mafu photographed by Elsa Pallet

Nox Mafu photographed by Jaimi Robin

This ethos — of making culture more porous, more layered, more real — runs through her creative leadership today. Whether she’s directing a campaign or building a team, Nox leads with purpose, and with people at the centre. Nox says that, “for me, leading a team starts with a shared sense of purpose. We all know what the deliverables are — make the campaign, sell the product — but what’s the point of departure? What do we stand for?” and that “I like to co-create that with the people I work with, because when we’re aligned on purpose, everything else flows. Skills can be taught. It’s the soft skills, the care for people, that make the real difference.” 

It’s a rare combination to hold business acumen, deep emotional intelligence and a strategic mind grounded in care. Perhaps it’s no surprise — instinctive to character, but also since Nox cut her teeth early on in journalism, her first love, which trained her, “I’ve learned that no matter how senior you are, being vulnerable and meeting people where they are is your superpower. Journalism taught me this. You’re constantly thrown into unfamiliar places and expected to bring back a story. That builds a muscle of connection. Now, when I need to find new talent or creative collaborators, I don’t hesitate to reach out, even cold. I’ll just say, ‘I love what you’re doing. Can we chat?’ That openness is underrated.”

For Nox, the work at adidas is as much about building infrastructure as it is about shaping culture. She sees her role as one that clears the path; opening doors for others, enabling creativity, and protecting the integrity of vision. “adidas has always stood for culture — it’s baked into the DNA of the brand,” she explains. “In South Africa, we’ve been fortunate to build on a solid foundation laid by the team before us, which gave us the confidence to take creative risks. For us, it’s not about being prescriptive. We put the opportunity in the hands of the creator. Our job is to open doors, remove friction, and help get their vision over the line.”

“I always say my skill is being able to translate creative ideas into corporate language. I know how to speak both dialects — what the artist is trying to do and what the business needs,” Nox says, “we’re not trying to follow a formula. If we stay at our desks for too long, we’ll become prescriptive instead of descriptive. The job is to stay close to the streets, close to the people. We’re constantly asking questions, listening, and watching. That’s the only way to keep things alive.”

Despite the pace and demands of brand life, Nox still holds a soft spot for the slower, more considered rhythms of old-school media. It’s where she began, and where her love for storytelling first took root. “Media has such a deep place in my heart — it’s where I started, and I still miss those slower, more intentional days,” she reflects. “I think of the Mail & Guardian’s Friday paper or long-form lifestyle journalism that really took time to reflect on the moment. Today, we’re stuck in this rapid-fire news cycle that mirrors the lifecycle of influencer marketing: everything’s fast, everything’s formulaic.”

I ask Nox if she holds any nostalgia for tangible print and if that time is something she ever longs to return to, which she muses, “I’m not nostalgic for print per se — I’m nostalgic for thoughtfulness. For the time to reflect, to write slowly, to really look at what’s happening around us. We’re in such a rich cultural moment, but sometimes we miss it because we’re already moving on to the next. I think we need to take more time to give people their flowers while they’re still blooming.”

“The kind of content that holds people — that makes them read until the end — is increasingly difficult to create. There’s so much visual noise, so many audio clips, so much speed. I think the real win is in redefining how we experience culture in real time, how we archive it meaningfully, and platforms like yours have the potential to do that,” Nox shares, “Y-Mag was that for us growing up. It was a platform that reflected back to us who we were — young, black, creative, dreaming. It shaped the culture. If we can make Adidas feel to someone today like Y-Mag felt to us back then, then we’ve done the job, and then some.” Y-Mag was a seminal publication for a generation of South African youth, particularly young black creatives navigating identity and aspiration in the post-apartheid era. It offered a rare, authentic mirror, indicative of a rapidly changing context and possibility for South Africa youth. For Nox and many others, it was a cultural touchstone that has undoubtedly created both personal and collective dreams that inform South African creative culture today. 

In her current role, Nox’s creative process begins with a simple approach: a product acts like a brief, a starting point to tell a story that resonates locally. Nox explains, “You get given a shoe, a capsule, a collection, and your job is to understand the intention and translate that into a story that means something in your local context. Who’s the person this will speak to? How do we build a world around that?” For her, sport and culture are inseparable — the energy on a football field or the unity felt during a rugby match shapes how people gather, and also what they wear and how they dream. “A child’s first cricket bat or their school kit often determines their future brand loyalty. Those emotional anchors influence fashion choices, identity, and community. So for me, culture and sport are absolutely intertwined.” 

I ask Nox where she is at personally and professionally; what her current vision is, and how she hopes the future will unfold. She tells me she’s “in a season of wanting to give back —through putting people on, and through building actual structures of mentorship. I want to show that you don’t have to choose between creative work and a corporate career. You can live in both those worlds, and there’s a lot more of us around that than you think. I want to be a bridge for people like me.”

Nox’s dreams extend far beyond the local landscape. “I’m dreaming about the continent right now. There’s so much happening across Africa. I want to go deeper, to build more, to grow a creative footprint in a way that feels rooted. I also want to do the work at home and create sustainable ways to teach the business of creativity. So often people are DM’ing me looking for collabs, but what we really need is infrastructure and education.” Infrastructural barriers remain our greatest challenge in South Africa, but I have no doubt that Nox — with her purpose and precision — can be part of the solution that breaks down those walls and builds a more inclusive, sustainable creative economy.

Nox tells me about her work at Expresso, and how she was able to connect with people across generations and diverse contexts, and how this will always inform that way she thinks about the world; that, “mass doesn’t mean mediocre. Mass needs curation. And that’s the heartbeat of this country. We need to keep creating in ways that honour that, and that reach everyone without losing the depth.”

As always, and for our community of inspiring creatives, I asked Nox for her words of wisdom; “if you’re reading this article, you’re already in the right place. The best advice I can give is to be open, to say yes more often. So many of the most magical things in my life came from doing things I didn’t plan for. You don’t have to be good at everything, you just have to be willing. That’s where growth happens.” Nox continues, “and don’t wait for the brand to come. They’re usually late anyway. What gives a brand confidence is seeing that you were already doing the work without them. So keep going; your voice matters, and your perspective matters. When the time is right, it will shine.” What more can I say than that? Nox Mafu is a definitional trailblazer, and our culture is intensely richer for it.

Written by Holly Beaton

For more news, visit the Connect Everything Collective homepage www.ceconline.co.za

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Charles Webster, EMAMKAY and Bokang Rematlapeng release ‘Rain’

For the fourth single drop from his forthcoming full length album ‘From The Hill’, Charles Webster taps into a different frequency, teaming up with boundary-pushing producer EMAMKAY, and the addition of the unmistakable voice of Bokang Ramatlapeng for the downtempo jazz-tinged cut titled ‘Rain’.

 

EMAMKAY’s known for his blend of conscious hip-hop, soul, jazz, and leftfield electronica – a sound that’s been described as more spirit than genre. Add Bokang’s vocal soul, and you get a track that drips with feeling yet never loses its edge. ‘Rain’ is meditative, full of space and restraint, but still bold in its execution. Webster keeps it grounded while letting the experiment breathe in a meeting point between SA’s new soul wave and a UK house legend who knows when to step back and let the moment speak.

Listen to ‘Rain’ here

Press release courtesy of Only Good Stuff