top of page

Fashion Designer | Nompumelelo Nhlapo

  • Oct 22, 2025
  • 9 min read

In this interview, we talked about creativity, identity, and the ways we see ourselves. We discussed how criticism can either hold you back or fuel your growth, the small acts of rebellion that become bold statements, and the journey of showing up unapologetically in a space that doesn’t always make room for you. It’s honest, reflective, and full of moments that make you rethink what it means to create and belong.


Photograph by Retang Sebeka. Courtesy of Nompumelelo Nhlapo
Photograph by Retang Sebeka. Courtesy of Nompumelelo Nhlapo

It’s a warm afternoon, and over a WhatsApp call, Nompumelelo’s energy hums with

certainty and focus. Within minutes, it’s clear that Gadat, the brand she founded, isn’t just

about fashion. It’s a declaration. A way of saying: Vaal is luxury.

Words by Khaya Mnisi


“I wouldn’t even say I was nervous,” she tells me when I ask what was running through her mind before the screening of Amalahle: A Vaal Story, the fashion film she recently debuted. “I think I was just feeling excited, if I’m being honest. Like, it got to a point where me and the crew decided we were just going to use the night to celebrate. So even when it started raining, we didn’t stress. We were like, you know what, we’re celebrating tonight. And yeah, that’s what we did.”



There’s an ease in her voice — a confidence that comes not from being untouchable, but

from having already fought for her own definition of success. Curious about whether she worried about criticism toward the film, she pauses briefly. “Not really, because we were proud of it. You know what I mean? And like, criticism is invited. People are allowed to have their opinions.”


“It’s also very important for the artist to like what they’ve made.”


She says it simply, but behind the words is the story of someone who had to teach herself

what it means to trust her own taste — someone who built her vision from nothing. “I said this in my speech, but I didn’t have a chance to expand on it,” she continues. “I don’t come from money, so it’s kind of hard to build a luxury brand when you’ve never bought luxury yourself. It’s such a big task to take on. I feel like sometimes it’s easier if you come from money, because the first couple of years, you’re not really making money — you’re making a name. You’re making the art so people know what you’re about. So the process was very difficult, especially when it came down to the money side. And, geographically, I was in Vaal, which is far from where everything’s happening — from where the stylists and journalists are. I literally had to start from nothing. I made my first piece from fabric I found under my grandma’s bed. Then I took pictures with my friends, and they collaborated with me. It’s been a step-by-step process, doing things slowly and intentionally.”


Don't miss another headline from PAVED. Subscribe to our newsletter and stay tuned.



When she talks about “intention,” her tone sharpens — not in defensiveness, but in clarity.

I presumed that’s what Gadat stands for: intention as luxury. “I was frustrated that there was a certain demographic of people who felt like they owned luxury, that they had the right to exclude others from it. Luxury is an experience. Yes, there’s branding, but the whole point, in my opinion, is that it’s supposed to be thoughtful — to think so intentionally about the consumer, the audience, the person involved. That’s what makes luxury. It started becoming a race conversation or a class conversation, and that frustrated me. So I was like, you know what? I’m going to create a luxury brand. Because no one can take that away from me. If I’m being intentional about the storytelling and the experience, then I have a luxury brand. The question then became: how do I build it in a way that’s scalable, sustainable — like a business — but also not alienate people, especially people from Vaal?”



Her relationship with Vaal is layered and tender. It’s where she began, but also the place

she had to step away from to make the dream real. “I think sometimes it feels like I’m

showing off,” she says, “but also, I do feel like everyone is proud. Maybe it’s the realization that they can be a part of it too. Because what the West does so well is convince Africa that we are less than, and then in the same breath, it takes from us — our resources, our stories, our culture. I think what the brand has done for Vaal is remind us that we already have the stories, the culture, and we have the ability. We shouldn’t be waiting for the West to say, ‘It’s Africa’s turn.’ Why are we waiting for permission?”



That defiance — that refusal to wait — runs through everything she makes. Even the film

was born from years of waiting and re-trying. “I wouldn’t say it was smooth,” she tells me.

“It was a project that took years to come together. By the time we actually did it, we were confident about what we were doing and why. Hlogi, who directed it, and I are friends. We’d been talking about it since I was 20, and we shot it when I was 26. That’s six years of just talking with a friend about something. So when it was time to share the film, we didn’t want to just post it online. It didn’t feel right. All this time, all this effort, all these conversations — it deserved a stage. We wanted people to feel what we had felt leading up to it.”


She mentions the biggest challenge wasn’t creative vision — it was timing. “We’d make

plans, and then they’d fizzle. We’d try again. Timing was the hardest part.”


Her creative process is intuitive, anchored in trust — trust in her own vision and in her team’s ability to see what she sees. “It was more Yuri and David, specifically,” she says. “They understood what I was trying to say. You can tell someone an idea and they’ll interpret it differently, but when I spoke to them, they saw it the same way. Alyssa, who helped with the set design and art direction — I’ve been friends with her for years. She’s reliable, resourceful, and whenever I need something, like a sounding board, she’s there. But the main thing was, I was taking people back home. I love my family, and I want them to feel safe. So I didn’t want to bring outsiders who would make them feel less than. I wanted people who grew up in a township or understood it — who had heart. Because sometimes when you take a creative team to the township and they’re not from there, their perspective can be problematic. They look down instead of being inspired.”



I ask her to describe the visual identity of the film, she answers without hesitation. “It’s more of a statement: Vaal is luxury. But you can interpret it how you want. If you’re from Soweto, you can say, Soweto is luxury. It’s about formulating our voice and expressing it.” It’s a statement that sits at the centre of her vision — not just a slogan, but a reclamation.


When she talks about where she finds inspiration, her tone stays measured — direct.

“My creative process is very…me.” she says. “I don’t always get inspiration from other designers . Everything always kind of links with each other. Yes, there’ll be inspiration from, like, maybe I see someone walking down the street and think, ‘Oh, I like those colors,’ or I see flowers and like how they work together So I'm more inspired by costumes. I watch a lot of movies, and then that tends to inspire my interest in what I'm going to design,


Film is central to her inspiration. She explains which directors speak to her most: “I really like Christopher Nolan. The reason I like him is what he talks about — time, memory, science. Memory is unreliable and time is fleeting, and that reminds you to be present. His movies remind you of that, especially Interstellar, when Joseph Cooper comes back and his kids are already old.”


She pauses, then adds, “Even when I watch fashion shows, I like to watch them after I’ve finished my collection or my sketches. Because it’s easy to fall in love with something and then copy it. I don’t want to be influenced too much. They do such great things — it’s easy to say, ‘I’ll do something similar.’ But if I’m not constantly looking at them, I can find a way to be original.”



I wonder whether the film had been shown in Vaal, and she explains how it unfolded: “No, I haven’t, but this is the start of it,” she says. “The plan was to get a sponsor and so forth, and it’s really hard when you’re starting out. People don’t want to give you their money. So I thought, let me just show what we have and do what’s possible now. But we’re not done. This was just an introduction. I have big dreams of getting a full Vaal crew. We had assistance from people involved, but I brought a lot of people from my side. I want to be able to help Vaal creatives, because there are so many of them — help them network in the space, because I know how difficult it was for me.”


I’m curious how people in Vaal, where resources are limited, receive a luxury brand like hers. She reflects: “There’s a reason I had to leave Vaal for it to materialise,” she says. "People in the township have a complicated view of themselves, and it's not their fault. They're told a specific thing again and again until they believe it. So when I say Vaal is luxury, it's not about selling - it's an affirmation. It's a challenge to how people in the township see themselves. I don’t want people to feel like Gucci is the only luxury brand. You don’t have to be in Paris. You can do it where you are. It’ll take time, but that’s fine.”


I note the film’s locations. She explains: “They were mostly happy accidents,” she says. “We’d get to a place and decide there how we’d shoot. Usually, you scout first, but Hlogi was brilliant in how he connected the garments to the space. He saw the cross shorts and said, ‘There’s a church here, let’s connect them.’ The library connects to my love for writing. It informs the brand’s identity — it’s like a written work.”



When I ask what she’d say to young creatives from Vaal who’ll see the film and be inspired, she doesn’t pause. “Lean into your culture,” she says. “That’s where your gold is. Your own story is what will make you stand out. Vaal has so much culture — I’ve only tapped one percent of it. There’s a whole world in it. Creatives should acknowledge their story, embrace it, and not always look outward asking, ‘What are they doing?’”


I ask her what the most prominent form of creative expression in Vaal is, and she turns to fashion as an answer:“I would say fashion because fashion is accessible. Yes, it’s expensive, but it’s accessible in the sense that you could always steal a blazer from your mom’s closet.”


She grows serious again as she speaks about the bigger picture. “But I genuinely want to see a world where Vaal has unprecedented access to resources. There are so many amazing creatives, photographers, videographers, painters — but these things require tools. You can’t just be a photographer without a camera, and cameras aren’t cheap. I hope this project becomes a catalyst to build a creative industry where people can learn skills and tell their stories.”

When I ask about her plans for the future, she smiles again — you can hear it in her voice.

“I’ve learned to just say things,” she says. “Because no one can take them away from me. Some people say don’t speak until it’s done, but I trust that if it’s meant to be, it will be.”


Next year, she hopes to host Gadat’s first fashion show. “We’ve never had one. The goal is to make it open — anyone interested in fashion can come. That’s what we did with the film: half RSVP, half open sign-ups. I want to keep that energy for the show. And a studio would be great too. So yeah, next year: a show and a studio.”



She doesn’t hesitate when I ask if she’d ever step beyond fashion. “I’m actually really happy in fashion,” she says. “I’m a visual storyteller. I never say I’m a fashion designer — I say I’m a visual artist. Maybe one day I’ll direct my own film.”


Before we end the call, I ask one last question — about the possible rise of fashion films in South Africa and whether she worries it might become just another trend. “I get what you’re saying,” she says. “I think fashion needs more ways to tell stories, and film just makes sense. I just hope it doesn’t turn into a trend — it must stick. Fashion brands need platforms to tell fully realized stories. Not everyone can afford a fashion show, and platforms like SA Fashion Week aren’t being funded enough. They don’t speak for every artist. It’s hard, because when you build a brand, there’s so much behind it — the research, the story, the world building. People don’t always get that just by looking at the clothes. Film is the best way to tell that story, and for the audience to get the message.”


Photograph by  David Blaq
Photograph by David Blaq

Comments


bottom of page