One Night, One Stain, One Forgiveness – My Favorite Client Story Yet

Two nights ago, I was scrolling through my feed late, still buzzing from a long day at the studio, when my phone lit up with a DM from an old client.

“Aunty Kate, emergency! Can you come to my place now? I need a full glow-up before tomorrow’s event. It’s a disaster.”

I laughed out loud in my quiet living room. After over ten years doing fashion and beauty in Lagos—styling shoots, fixing bridal parties, turning walk-in clients into red-carpet ready—I’ve learned one thing: “emergency” usually means someone’s outfit or face doesn’t match the fantasy they sold on Instagram.

I grabbed my kit—the big black case packed with clean beauty essentials, sustainable fashion pieces I’ve collected over the years, and my holy-grail tools—and drove to her apartment in Lekki Phase 1. The traffic was merciful for once, just the soft hum of Davido playing low.

When Ada opened the door, she looked like she’d been crying into a tub of ice cream. Mascara streaks, hair in a messy bun, wearing an oversized hoodie that swallowed her tiny frame.

“Thank God you came,” she said, pulling me inside. “Look at this dress.”

She pointed to a stunning powder pink mini dress hanging on the wardrobe door—silk, halter neck, the kind of piece that screams 2025 trending fashion. But the fabric had a huge red wine stain right across the chest, like someone had thrown a glass in slow motion.

I sighed, the kind of sigh you only develop after seeing too many fashion fails. “Ada, how? This is designer sustainable fashion silk. You can’t just bleach it.”

“I know! It was an accident—my ex showed up uninvited, we argued, glass flew… long story. I need to wear this tomorrow for the clean beauty brand launch. They’re paying me to show up looking flawless in minimal makeup and this dress. If I don’t, the contract is gone.”

I set my kit down and started assessing damage like a detective. “Okay, first things first. Strip. We’re fixing this.”

While she changed into a robe, I pulled out my portable steamer and a bottle of my secret weapon—homemade eco-friendly stain remover made with vinegar, dish soap, and a touch of baking soda. After a decade of spills on set, I stopped trusting commercial stuff; sustainable beauty taught me to go back to basics.

As I dabbed gently, she paced. “I also hate how my skin looks lately. Dull. Tired. I’ve been using all these viral skincare products, but nothing works. I want that glass skin everyone’s posting about.”

I looked up, smiling. “Girl, glass skin isn’t about a thousand steps. It’s hydration, sunscreen every single day—even when you’re indoors—and eating like you love yourself. I learned that the hard way after burning out my barrier in 2018 with too many acids. My face peeled for weeks. Never again.”

We talked while I worked. I blended a custom clean beauty foundation shade to match her undertone perfectly—no ashiness, just radiant. Then came the eyes: soft mocha mousse shadow (the shade that’s been blowing up searches this year), a touch of butter yellow highlighter on the inner corners for that awake look, and individual lashes because she hates falsies that look fake.

“You always make it look so easy,” she said, watching me in the mirror.

“It’s not easy,” I replied honestly. “I’ve ruined so many looks. Once, I over-contoured a bride so badly she looked like a 2D cartoon. She cried. I cried. Her mom threatened to report me. That mistake taught me to always do one side first, step back, ask for feedback. Human nuance, babe. Machines can’t do that.”

Two hours later, the dress was salvaged—stain gone, steamed to perfection, paired with strappy heels and a tiny sustainable fashion clutch made from recycled leather. She looked breathtaking.

“I feel like a new person,” she whispered, twirling. “You’re a miracle worker.”

I packed up, feeling that warm glow you get when a client leaves happier than they came. “Just promise me one thing—next time, no exes near wine glasses.”

She laughed. “Deal. And I’m tagging you in every story tomorrow. Fashion and beauty tips from the best.”

I drove home smiling, windows down, night air cool. But the real twist came the next evening.

My phone buzzed with a video from Ada at the event. She was glowing—glass skin, powder pink dress pristine, posing with influencers. Then the camera panned.

Standing beside her, arm around her waist, was the ex. The same guy who’d caused the wine disaster. They were laughing, posing like nothing happened. Caption: “Sometimes second chances look this good. Grateful for forgiveness and second chances #CleanBeautyLaunch #SustainableFashion”

I stared at the screen, mouth open.

She’d gotten back with him. After all the drama, the stain, the tears—she chose to forgive.

I texted her: “You’re kidding me.”

Her reply came fast: “I know, I know! But he apologized properly. And honestly? The dress looks better with him in the picture. Life’s too short for grudges. Thanks for saving the night… and maybe the relationship”

I shook my head, laughing to myself in the dark room.

After ten-plus years in fashion and beauty, I’ve styled heartbreak recoveries, revenge looks, and everything in between. But this? This was new.

Turns out the biggest glow-up isn’t always the makeup or the outfit.

Sometimes it’s the heart quietly deciding to try again.

And just like that, another Lagos night proved: in fashion, beauty, and love—nothing stays ruined forever.