A sapeur poses for a photo while a crowd waits in line for a concert organized by KVV Mouzieto, an important sapeur who lives in Paris, to promote his first music album. The ministry of communication and many sapeurs were invited for the event.
Severin Mouyengo, who has been a sapeur since the 1970s, poses in the entrance of his family house in the Bacongo neighborhood. Sandals on the ground are from his family members.
A sapeur named Lamame leaves his home, which has remained in poor condition since the last civil war (1997-2001), to show off in his neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon.
Lamame cleans his shoes with a tissue; his pipe lies on a blue plastic table of a cafe-bar in Avenue Matsoua. Peanut shells cover the ground; they are a popular snack in Congo.
Willy Covari, one of the most admired sapeurs of the Bacongo neighborhood, walks with his two children in his plot.
Bienvenu Mouzieto poses in front of his house in the Bacongo neighborhood.
A sapeur named Allureux decides to put on his maroon socks because they match with his elbow tie. The rule of the three colors — one should not match more than three colors at a time — is one of the principles of the Societe des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Elegantes.
At left, Covary poses in front of his house after taking a bath. On the right side, he is ready to show off in the city.
Andre Nkolo is a sapeur who has lived in France for 15 years. Shoes are his passion, and he has more than 30 pairs. This is his crocodile collection: a pair of "double boucle" Weston, a pair of "one boucle" Weston, sandals by Dolce Gabbana and another very exclusive one.
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In a poor city in a poor country on a poor continent, there is a group of people with a singular purpose: to look rich.
Or, rather, to look good — and to fully embody the suave, elegant style that a wardrobe of three-piece suits, silk socks, fedoras and canes might suggest.
They are called sapeurs or members of the Societe des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Elegantes (the Society of Tastemakers and Elegant People). And when they go out, they turn the streets of Brazzaville, the capital of the Republic of the Congo, into a fashion runway.
The sapeur style began as one of emulation.
"At the beginning of the 20th century, when the French arrived in Congo, the myth of the Parisian elegance was born among the youth of the Bakongo ethnic group," says Spanish photographer Hector Mediavilla, who began documenting the SAPE in 2003 and whose work is on view at the Newspace Center for Photography in Portland, Ore., until June 2.
Congolese men who worked for the French colonizers, or who spent time in France, began adopting that country's sartorial elegance and aristocratic affect.
Fast forward to present-day Brazzaville, where today's sapeurs drop big money on slick garb — a pair of crocodile shoes can cost between 1,000 euros ($1,300) and 3,000 euros ($3,900) according to Mediavilla — and cultivate an air of refined gentility amid their war-torn country's severe poverty.
According to the World Bank, 46.5 percent of Congolese live at or below the national poverty line. The country's per capita gross national income is $3,240, according to the World Health Organization — enough for one pair of crocodile shoes.
"For some [sapeurs] it is an obsession," says Mediavilla, who says the men he met work as electricians, in small shops or as marketing agents for fashion boutiques — hardly professions that support haute couture. "But they can also get [things] secondhand or buy from a friend, because not everyone is ready to spend such an amount of money on their clothes."
But it's not all about the conspicuous consumerism.
"Creativity is very important," says Mediavilla. "It's not only about spending a lot of money on the clothes, but also the way they speak, the way they move. ... It's a way of presenting their lives and being somebody in a society that doesn't give you many opportunities. ... It's about [being] confident in oneself despite the circumstances."
Sapeurs are also pacifists, says Mediavilla: "You have to be respectful to others. You cannot be aggressive."
Still, it's tempting to see the sapeurs' aspirational style as part of a legacy of cultural imperialism, a post-colonial legacy.
But Mediavilla invokes a phrase common among sapeurs — and one that is attributed to Papa Wemba, a rumba musician from Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) who popularized the culture in the late 1970s and early 1980s: "White people invented the clothes, but we make an art of it."