SISI OLOGE SISTERS
Growing up in the heart of Lagos Island, Alase and Abiola couldn’t be more different. Abiola, the older sister, always wore her emotions on her sleeve—each thought and feeling plastered right across her face like the headlines of a newspaper. Whenever claimed to be unable to read her, she’d claim to be an open book, with everything written from her face down to her shoulders. Indeed, her top was a design with patchwork of newspaper prints, with hairstyles that made statements before she did. It was her way of expressing herself, as she also did through spoken words.
Alase, on the other hand, was quiet, observing the world to hold on to knowledge. She loved the family’s hair business, where women flocked from all over Lagos to get their hair braided, twisted, and styled. She understood people through their hair. In the salon, Alase was a storyteller. Yet, unlike Abiola, she expressed herself solely through the hair her hands designed.
Together, they balanced each other making the Miracle Hands Salon everyone’s favorite place to be. Abiola was the main source of entertainment at the salon, drawing customers in with her sweet mouth and fine face, while Alase worked behind the scenes, making sure everyone left feeling beautiful.
In a city that never sleeps, where hustle and noise were the order of the day, the sisters thrived, styling their stories into every head of hair they touched.

But even in their differences, the bond between Alase and Abiola was unbreakable. The salon was their studio and the hair, their art, a place where their personalities intertwined, just like the strands of hair they braided. While Abiola’s loud laughter and lively conversation made the customers feel at home, it was Alase's blessed hands that turned every visit into an unforgettable experience. Together, they created a language spoken through the act of making hair.
As they grew older, the sisters began to influence each other. Abiola, who was once loud and free-spirited, found solace in braiding alongside Alase, learning to listen more, speaking only when necessary. Alase, on the other hand, began to loosen the tight grip on her emotions. Abiola’s open heart was contagious, and soon, Alase found herself laughing more, sharing stories with clients that had once been hidden away.
The Miracle Hands Salon became more than just a place for hair—it became a sanctuary for women in Lagos. They came not just for a new style but for the warmth, the community, and the sense of belonging the sisters offered as they let them style their hair as the sisters deemed suitable to their personality and head shape. A woman would call on to her friend saying ‘Tele mi lo si Miracle hands, mo fe di sisi ologe’. (Follow me to Miracle Hands, I want to feel beautiful) Alase and Abiola, had created something intimate—a space for every woman to find a reflection of herself.
As the years passed, the sisters continued to grow, not just in their craft but in their connection with each other. Together, they would carry on the legacy of the Miracle Hands Salon, opening the doors for people to experience love and beauty to take on the city