Mao collars, welt pockets, sleeves adorned with pearls or sophisticated embroidery… In Kinshasa, tailors and lovers of elegance are giving new life to the “abacost”, the emblematic suit of the Democratic Republic of Congo.
A contraction of "down with the suit," the abacost is a closed jacket, usually with a Mao collar, designed as an alternative to the Western suit and tie, which is poorly suited to the equatorial climate. Popularized under the regime of President Mobutu Sese Seko (1965-1997), who mandated its wearing for civil servants, it embodied a desire to assert identity in the face of dress codes inherited from the West.
After the fall of Mobutu and the opening to multiparty politics, the abacost, associated with the old political elite, had gradually lost its prestige. But today, it is making a strong comeback.
That's the trend," says Serge Okasol, a renowned tailor from Kinshasa, who sees both young clients and representatives of older generations passing through his workshop.
Discreetly located behind a downtown gas station, the Okasol workshop has become a benchmark of Kinshasa elegance. Trained in Paris before returning to the country with his brother Auguy to take over the family business, Serge perpetuates a know-how passed down by their father.
Ministers, senior officials, diplomats, generals, and businessmen are among their loyal clientele. Some do not hesitate to order up to fifteen suits at a time, for a price that can reach a thousand dollars per item.
The abacost as an expression of his identity
What is most appealing today is the ability of clothing to reflect a strong cultural identity. The most popular designs incorporate African fabrics such as wax print or Congolese kuba, combined with intricate embroidery that contrasts with the simplicity of Western suits.
"We appropriate the classical style to create a language of our own," summarizes Serge Okasol.
For Percy Loso, a client of the workshop, these creations primarily allow him to assert his cultural identity through elegance.
The influence of social media and the cult of detail
Social media plays an important role in this revival. Many customers arrive with designs they've seen online, inspired by Congolese artists or influencers who have helped to rehabilitate the abacost among younger generations.
In the fitting room, everything is personalized: collar type, cut, fabrics, embroidery. The wealthiest opt for models adorned with floral motifs, pearls or even their initials, sometimes with their own portrait embroidered on the chest, intended for weddings and grand evenings of Kinshasa's high society.
One rule prevails: assert your uniqueness.
Just a few meters from the shop, in a vast workshop staffed by some thirty specialized seamstresses, machines imported from Germany and Japan run tirelessly. Here, every detail counts.
"People pay close attention to the finishing touches. When you look at a suit, that's where everything is decided," explains Serge Okasol.
In other parts of Kinshasa, the market also offers more affordable abacosts, often imported from Asia, sold for around $50. But these models compete fiercely with local artisans, who complain about the poor quality of some fabrics, often blended with polyester.
For Auguy Okasol, the difference is fundamental: "The fabric is the secret of the suit. There are fakes and real ones. Fakes retain heat. With real ones, you breathe."
Clothing as social armor
Beyond fashion, the abacost remains a powerful symbol in Congolese society. Whether they belong to the bourgeoisie of the city center or the working classes of the periphery, many Kinshasa residents see elegance as a social necessity.
“For a Kinshasa resident, dressing properly is like wearing armor. It’s a matter of self-esteem and credibility,” concludes Serge Okasol.
In a Democratic Republic of Congo marked by deep inequalities, the abacost is no longer just a political legacy: it has become a marker of pride, identity and ambition.
