Oladapo Olamide 
In a city where noise and colour collide daily, alagbo women herbal medicine sellers still manage to stand out. On the sun-drenched sidewalks of Ogba, the meandering roads of IjuIshaga, and many other places across Nigeria’s most populous city, they weave through the crowd with bottles clinking in basins delicately balanced on their heads, wrappers swaying with each step, and faces painted in the kind of makeup that often attract people.
They may not be performers in the actual sense of the word, but in a way, they act the part. These women are entrepreneurs of tradition, using everything from bold lipstick to eccentric dressing to call attention to their goods. For them, appearance isn’t an afterthought; it’s an essential tool of their trade – their own mobile branding and advertising. For Florence Dairo, fondly known as ‘Iya Alagbo’, dressing the part is nonnegotiable.
Her brightly coloured wrapper, neatly tied scarf, and confident gait aren’t just personal style — they communicate experience, authenticity, and connection to tradition. “It depicts our tradition, culture, and everything,” she said, seated beside a basin of herbs in a quiet corner of Ogba.
“When people see me like this, they know I am serious. I am not pretending.” The alagbo profession is one that relies on trust — and in communities where customers may be sceptical of impostors or diluted mixtures; dressing traditionally becomes a signal of credibility. This idea is echoed by Mummy Michael, who plies her trade in nearby Agege.
Speaking in Yoruba, she explained: “Mo maa n wọ aṣọ ibile nitori bi mi ko ba ṣe bẹ, won a ro pe agbo mi na iro ni.” (Translation: “I dress in a traditional way because if I don’t, they’ll think my herbs are fake.”) Her view reflects the common belief that local dressing, particularly the use of wrappers, ankara, and natural hair coverings, lends legitimacy to the herbalist’s work.
Visibility
But tradition isn’t the only reason these women dress the way they do. For many, fashion is also a key strategy in enhancing their very competitive business. In Iju-Ishaga, a busy junction of roadside traders, bus stops, and small shops, Mrs. Adenike Olaore, described how she balanced practicality with presentation. “I used to sell agbo and Chelsea boots at the same time,” she recalls. “I didn’t dress too locally because I needed to look good for the guys buying shoes too.But the waist bag?
That is a must. That’s where I kept my money and some of the herbs that are not in bottles.” Her story illustrates how modern agbo sellers have adapted to changing markets. While some stick strictly to traditional looks, others blend old and new, using elements of both to appeal to different types of customers. One element that remains sacrosanct, however, is the waist bag. More than a purse, it’s a working tool, one that holds herbs, cash, charms, and sometimes even small sample bottles of agbo. It allows these women to stay mobile, ready to make a sale at any moment.
Power of made up faces In Ogba Market, one of Lagos’s busiest local trading hubs, Mama Adeola knows the value of standing out — and she uses makeup to do it. “Bó ṣe wù kí n ṣe make-up mi, ló ṣe máa jẹ́ kí mo ta ọja mi,” she said in Yoruba, meaning: “The way I do my makeup determines how well I sell. My weird look advertises my business.” For her, unusual makeup is not vanity — it’s a form of street branding.
Bright colours, exaggerated eyeliner, and clashing lipstick shades draw attention in a sea of vendors. “I want people to notice me,” she added. “Even if they don’t buy today, they’ll remember me tomorrow. That’s how the market works.” That idea is even more firmly held by Mrs. Abosede Eniola, another Alagbo woman working the streets of Iju-Ishaga. “To me, the funny makeup is the main advert,” she said.
“Any Alagbo without weird makeup is not a typical one. You have to look different, or else people will just walk past you.” These perspectives reveal how visual identity has become a marketing asset. In a competitive, informal economy where customer loyalty is hard-won, attracting attention is the first step in making a sale.
Village-rooted strategy
Even outside Lagos, in rural areas where herbal medicine is often more popular than orthodox medicine, the same principles often apply. Mrs. Ariyo Sukurat, an indigene of Ilaje in Ondo State, also believes her appearance is key to selling. “I make my makeup weird because I sell it in the village,” she said. “I don’t joke with my bag around my waist, and I wear clothes that expose parts of my body. It’s what attracts customers.”
In her case, provocative dressing, paired with bold makeup, works as a psychological tool — drawing curiosity, raising conversations, and eventually leading to purchases. Whether in Lagos, Ilaje, Makurdi or Enugu and many other places these women are united by more than herbs. They are connected by a deep understanding of their market — and the realisation that their bodies are part of the performance. The wrapper is their robe. The makeup is their banner. The waist bag is their briefcase. They may lack formal marketing plans or digital promotions, but their strategy is no less effective. They dress to survive, to persuade, and to remain visible in an economy that often overlooks informal workers — especially women.
Social media
A few years ago a video of an agbo seller went viral after she was seen sharing banters with one of her customers who after buying one of her herbs to enhance his sexual prowess jokingly asked how would he know the efficacy of what she sold to him; to which she also jokingly responded in pidgin: “Come try am for my body now!” And in another longer version the same lady admitted that she has at times agreed to sleep with her customers to prove to them that she does not sell ‘fake’ herbs. Although clearly not well educated she was still able to adduce that there was nothing like the power of word of mouth to enhance her business when she told the person recording: “Person wey try me go tell others say my medicine dey work because its original, na so I dey get more customers!”
Conclusion
The alagbo women of Agege, Ogba, Iju-Ishaga and other areas have created a business culture where appearance matters just as much as the herbs they sell. In their world, style is substance — a carefully constructed image that reflects both cultural heritage and market adaptability. Their makeup may be odd, their wrappers may clash, but nothing is accidental. Every detail is part of a larger strategy — one that has sustained their trade across generations and continues to evolve. In a city like Lagos, where everyone is hustling for attention and survival, Alagbo women remind us that sometimes, the loudest and best advertisement is not a signboard: “It’s a face in the crowd, painted with purpose!”
