Nigerians are fashionable people, impressively so. Like anywhere, in Nigeria, fashion is a performance – of taste, but also of gender, class and other identities. Among elites, these performances are often ostentatious and they are meant to be. In Fashioning Postfeminism, Simidele Dosekun examines the spectacular feminine fashions of eighteen super-elite young women in Lagos, Nigeria's commercial capital. The women Dosekun interviewed and observed represent an extreme end of the spectrum with regard to both wealth and their indulgence in fashion. They spend many thousands of dollars a month on clothes, shoes and bags, not to mention makeup and hair. They invest hours each day preparing for their fashionable performances, whether that be a night out at a club, a party, a date, or simply going to work.

While the descriptions and interviews with these fashion-obsessed women made for engrossing – if also sometimes disturbing – ethnography, Dosekun's most ambitious agendas are theoretical and political. Theoretically, the book interrogates the phenomenon of post-feminism, using the author's interlocutors’ lives as evidence. Dosekun is a careful thinker, well versed in a wide range of relevant literature, which she deploys expertly to build her analysis. The main argument and foremost conclusion of the book is that ‘postfeminism is and tells a lie’ (p. 143). The promise that women can be happy and empowered, transcending gender inequalities simply through flamboyant consumption and the performance of hyper-fashion, is shown to be hollow, even for the book's ultra-privileged protagonists. The primary political takeaway is that ‘postfeminism is not postpatriarchal’ (p. 53). Dosekun concludes that, in Nigeria – and, by implication, everywhere – post-feminism leaves patriarchy in place by pretending to transcend structural realities through politically vacuous individualism.

Although ultimately critical of post-feminism, early in the book, when Dosekun makes the case for applying the term to the women she studied in Lagos, she reveals and effectively criticizes the Western-centric (and implicitly white supremacist) presumption that post-feminism is possible only in ‘advanced’ countries. The denial of a post-feminist possibility in Africa is grounded in two fallacies. One is that women on the continent are too poor to afford the agentic and extravagant consumption associated with post-feminist empowerment. The second is that African women have never been feminist enough to evolve to post-feminism. The first fallacy is laid to rest in the descriptions of her interlocutors’ consumption, which is lavish by any global standard. The second fallacy is debunked by a brief review of the extensive literature on Nigerian feminism, which shows a rich history of women's empowerment and demonstrates the culpability of colonialism in promoting patriarchy. It is ironic that, after arguing that African women can be post-feminist, Dosekun then levels such a devastating and compelling critique.

In the spirit of ‘debate’, I point to three interrelated issues that the book left me wondering about. First, given how empowered these women seemed to be (not only were they rich and beautiful, but they constantly asserted their confidence and happiness), I thought the author treated them, relatively speaking, with kid gloves. Of course, she found chinks in their armour – acknowledgement of pain, signs of unhappiness, exhaustion with performing – but why, I often asked myself, didn't she ask them harder, more direct questions about patriarchy, inequality and the ethics of their life choices?

Second, I want to suggest that the author's conclusion about the persistence of patriarchy omits, and even obscures, an equally worrisome reality. In short, as a man who has written about masculinity in Nigeria, including the ostentatious performances of elite men, I could not help but think that the spectre and consequences of class inequality deserved more attention. These fashionable women appeared impervious to any moral considerations related to their privilege. Perhaps worse, they not only celebrated their excessive consumption but also used it to ‘oppress’ others (to employ a Nigerian colloquialism) – a phenomenon the author alludes to but doesn't fully explore (p. 35). In this, at least, they have much in common with powerful men. That these problems may be as bad, or worse, in the West does not soften their consequences in Nigeria.

Finally, I am curious what the author observed and has to say about the way in which more ordinary Nigerians perceived these women and others like them. In my experience, elites in Nigeria benefit from popular ambivalence about the performance of wealth and power. Although regular people criticize and sometimes resent the rich and powerful, they also expect them to perform their status, and they envy and reward them accordingly. Might not the performance of class and the maintenance of inequality be central consequences of ‘post-feminist’ fashion in Lagos, along with protecting patriarchy?

In closing, let me reiterate what a fine book this is. While I have tried to provoke some constructive debate with my questions and comments, overall Fashioning Postfeminism is insightful, erudite, and a pleasure to read.