Welcome to Life, with Receipts — a series on the Rank Blog where real people open their wallets and tell us exactly what happened. First up: bridal trains.
Being on a bridal train in Nigeria is an honour. It is also, depending on the bride and groom, a situational loan you never agreed to take. The asoebi. The hair. The shoes. The bag. The bridal shower contribution. The hotel. The transport. The spraying money. The gifts. And somehow, at the end of all of it, you’re expected to be glowing in photos, grateful for the experience, and ready to do it again in three months for the next friend.
We spoke to four Nigerians — two women, two men — about what being on a bridal train actually cost them. In their own words.
Ebun, 25 – ₦347,000
Content Lead at Rank Capital, Lagos
My boyfriend’s friend was getting married and his best man bailed on him. So my boyfriend assumed the role. His bride to be also made me a bridesmaid due to the relationship
Now lets talk billing. Asoebi was ₦150,000. When she told me I was in shock. I even thought she was joking. But she was not. For three yards of lace, one sego gele, four yards of bridesmaid fabric, and one ankara skirt for content, I honestly didn’t think it was a good deal. Lace sewing was 35k. Sewing for bridesmaid dress and ankara skirt was ₦22,000
The bride wanted everyone to wear uniform ponytails with a frontal, so I bought that for ₦30,000 and installed it for ₦25,000. Thankfully the wedding was in the same state so I didn’t have to travel down and our hotel was covered. Makeup and gele was ₦40,000 and my nails were ₦20,000
I wore my old shoes and bag from before to save cost. But I had to get a gold bag and gold jewelry for the church look since the bride wanted us to match. That cost ₦25,000. The total was ₦347,000
For someone I’m not close to, it was a lot. My boyfriend paid ₦150,000 for the fabric but I had to pay the rest. Honestly, I would not do bridesmaids for anyone I’m not close to. I would rather attend your wedding as a guest and give you a gift instead.
Adaeze, 28 – ₦620,000
HR Generalist, Lagos
When Chisom called me and said “Ada, I want you to be my chief bridesmaid,” I screamed. Full loud scream. I said yes before she finished the sentence. I want to go back in time and put my hand over my own mouth.
The wedding was in Enugu. I’m in Lagos. That should have been my first sign to at least pause and ask some questions. But love makes you irrational, and Chisom has been my person since secondary school, so I just packed my excitement and started planning. Then the details started arriving. The wedding wasn’t a day. It wasn’t even two days. It was four days, from Thursday to Sunday. Introduction, traditional wedding, white wedding, and a “small family brunch” on Sunday that had a full caterer and a DJ. There is nothing small about a brunch with a DJ.
The asoebi for the traditional came first; ₦55,000 for the fabric. Fine, okay. Then the white wedding dress code came with its own separate fabric, another ₦40,000. Chisom had a tailor she wanted all of us to use. This tailor was talented and had the pricing to match. Sewing both outfits cost me ₦70,000. Hair was ₦85,000. I did two different makeups for the two main events which was ₦60,000 combined. Flights, return, ₦140,000. Hotel for four nights, ₦90,000.
Then we planned the bridal shower. Six bridesmaids, supposedly splitting costs equally. Two of those girls went completely silent when money was being discussed. Not unavailable. Silent. So four of us shared a ₦250,000 bill. My share was ₦62,500.
I bought her a separate gift (₦25,000) because I’m not signing my name to a group card when I’m already the chief bridesmaid. And the spraying money at the reception? I don’t even want to say the number.Total: around ₦620,000.
The worst part isn’t the amount. The worst part is that I didn’t see it coming, even though all the signs were there. Each expense arrived separately, each one sounding reasonable on its own. ₦55k for asoebi? Fine. ₦85k for hair? Okay, it’s a big event. Hotel? Well, I can’t sleep on the floor. But no one ever showed me the full number at the beginning. By the time I could see the whole picture, I was already deep in it.
Chisom is happy. The wedding was beautiful. I don’t regret being there. But if I could go back, I’d sit down in January, write out every single expected cost, total it up, and then decide with full information, how to make it work. Not scramble. Decide.
Emeka, 31 – ₦430,000
Software Developer, Abuja
The groomsmen were expected to coordinate. That meant buying a specific fabric from a specific person. This cost ₦38,000. Then sewing a full agbada with styling (₦65,000) because the groom wanted a particular look and we were going to deliver it. Shoes were ₦45,000 because the ones I had “didn’t match the aesthetic.” I flew down and back — ₦160,000, because I booked slightly late and the prices had moved. The groom’s family had accommodation covered for close relatives, but groomsmen were quietly told to sort themselves out. Hotel for two nights: ₦55,000. Feeding and transport around Port Harcourt across three days: ₦27,000.
Then the bachelor’s eve. The best man sent a breakdown. A full itemised breakdown, like a budget proposal. There were seven of us. My share was ₦45,000, and the best man mentioned, almost proudly, that he had already negotiated things down, so this was the discounted rate. I stared at my phone for a long time. I also bought a separate gift. ₦75,000.
Total: approximately ₦390,000.
Tunde is happily married. I’ve cried about the money twice — once when I checked my account after the wedding and once while writing my budget for the following month. I’m complaining. I’m complaining loudly and on record.
If I could do it again, I would have called Tunde back the same day and asked every uncomfortable question. Which events? What’s the dress code for each one? Is accommodation sorted for groomsmen or do we sort ourselves? What’s the bachelor’s eve situation and roughly what are we looking at? These are not disrespectful questions. These are adult questions that would have let me make a real plan instead of discovering the full cost ₦40,000 at a time.
Ask your questions. Ask them early. Your friendship can survive the questions. Your savings account might not survive the silence.
Kayode, 27 – ₦185,000
Accountant, Lagos
I’ll be upfront: I’m an accountant. Spreadsheets are basically my love language. So when my brother Dayo got engaged and asked me to be a groomsman, I did what felt completely natural to me, I opened Excel.
This was January. The wedding was in June. I had five months, and I intended to use them.
I called Dayo and asked him every question I could think of. How many events? What were groomsmen expected to wear to each? Was accommodation being provided or were we on our own? What was the bachelor’s eve situation? Was there a group gift expectation? What was the fabric, and did I have to buy it from a specific vendor?
He was slightly surprised by the level of interrogation. But he answered everything. And from his answers, I built a rough estimate: around ₦200,000. I budgeted ₦250,000 to account for surprises, because there are always surprises. I ended up spending ₦185,000.
One event got cancelled late, this saved me one outfit and the attached costs. I found out early enough about the fabric that I called the vendor directly and bought it at a slightly better rate than the others. I asked where the wedding was holding and found a good tailor there so I didn’t have to pay my Lagos tailor to do the work. That alone saved me about ₦20,000. I bought a gift for ₦50,000 because I’d already budgeted for it and wasn’t scrambling.
Dayo called me after the wedding and said I was the most solid groomsman he had. Showed up for everything, no drama, no last-minute “I don’t have it” panic. And I spent the least out of all of us. I’m not telling this story to be smug — okay, maybe a little. But mostly I’m telling it because I’ve watched friends go through financial stress from weddings that could have been avoided. The problem isn’t that they didn’t care enough to plan. It’s that the culture around weddings doesn’t encourage you to ask the practical questions early. You say yes to the role, then the details come in slowly, and by the time you know the real number you’re already too invested to back out.
The fix is almost embarrassingly simple: find out the full picture before you commit. Not after. Before. If the number works for you, great, now you can plan properly. If it doesn’t, you can have an honest conversation with your friend or your brother or your cousin about what you can actually do. Maybe you attend fewer events. Maybe you contribute differently. Maybe you’re a guest who shows up with a beautiful gift and genuine love.
None of those options are available to you if you say yes first and ask questions never.
Life, with Receipts is published on the Rank Blog. If you have a money story — a big purchase, a financial lesson, something that cost you more than you expected, financial lessons you learnt late that you want other people to hear — we want to hear it. Get in touch here.
