As I sit sweating in the airport lounge at Kinshasa airport, my fingers are frantically tapping out messages on my cell phone. I glance at my chipped index finger nail, and sigh.

Text messages are mobilizing my peeps… Appointments are being re-shuffled, plans concocted and supplies ordered.

I happen to glance up at the amazing coiffure of the woman sitting in front of me, and that of her little “mini-me”. About 2 I’d say. Not a day older.  My eyes run down the colourful wax print fabric that has been draped stylishly around her tiny body,  down to the amazing shoes. How do you walk on those things, and at that age?

A message peeps on my phone, “are you sure?, it’s going to be expensive” My curt response, YES.

Somebody taps me on the shoulder…“Monsieur, ooh, je suis désolée… Madame.”

My ego has taken a severe knock, and this, this is the final straw.

I mentally go through the checklist: manicure, pedicure, facial, wax, hairdresser. Hmm, that should do it.

I wonder if Salomons makes a high-heeled hiking boot?

Not quite 2, but better dressed than me already.

Bright beads decorate the hair of this little girl in N'djili Quartier 13, Kinshasa, DRC.

Another potential style icon in the making, with the attitude to match.

Sunday mornings' church services are a major event in the style calendar of the Kinois. Babies are dressed up and shown off.

A wedding in Kinshasa

I wonder what was being said?

Even the boys start young