In 2017, sisters Tochi and Ebele ­Anueyiagu, shared a single image on their new Instagram account: a still of Nigerian film and beauty darling ­Genevieve Nnaji from Sharon Stone in Abuja, a 2003 Nollywood classic. In the grainy frame, Nnaji exudes effortless femme fatale, dressed in a lace-up denim catsuit with her perfectly coiffed fringe peeking from beneath a scarf. Skinny hoop earrings dangle from her ears, and a delicate watch gleams on her wrist. The caption? Simple yet iconic: #nollybabes.

The profile @nolly.babes started as a personal archive of bold fashion and beauty moments from Nigeria’s prolific film industry’s heyday—but with more than 69,000 followers, it has sparked a movement celebrating the era’s distinctive style and influence. Across social media platforms, the Anueyiagu siblings spotlight unapologetic characters, reintroducing this golden age to millennials while captivating a new generation of Black women and tastemakers worldwide. For the sisters, who own an archive of more than 300 physical copies of Nollywood movies, what began as casual exchanges of favorite scenes and epic face cards has turned into a passion for documenting and curating their unique take on Y2K Nollywood.

“As much as we brought it to attention, it is the lens with which we viewed it that really mattered,” states Tochi, the elder sibling. “Specifically, the beauty of the women and the men, the style of the people in the film. That was what captivated us and what we wanted to share organically.”

Nollywood’s Take on Y2k Glam

Like most cultural trends, notions of beauty are cyclical, and the Y2K revival is no exception. After years of supermodel aesthetics and 1990s-inspired looks dominating the early 2010s, the late 2010s and post-pandemic world have embraced the flash and drama of the early aughts. For Black women, who are often overlooked in mainstream Western beauty narratives, Nollywood offers a dense visual repository that centers Black beauty.

Moving from Lagos to Atlanta in their teenage years, the Anueyiagu sisters clung to Nollywood as a reminder that the women they found beautiful looked like them. The accessibility and diversity of women portrayed in old Nollywood is a stark contrast to the monolithic approach of Western media. “You saw Black women across the gamut,” Tochi recalls. “We had plus-size and dark-skinned women. Women in the village looking beautiful and sophisticated women in Lagos cashing out. There was beauty across all socioeconomic backgrounds.”

The Nolly Babes archive has reintroduced looks like pencil-thin brows and metallic lipsticks into mainstream beauty conversations. Beauty expert Whitney Madueke, the creative director behind an eponymous fashion brand, explains: “Nolly Babes brought a great deal of appreciation to what was once less appreciated.” Referring to the Y2K Nollywood trends on ­TikTok, she continues, “It’s the perfect way to stand out. How many people can confidently rock paper-thin brows? Or better yet, draw on thin brows?!”

Certain beauty looks have become synonymous with stars of the era. Eucharia Anunobi’s sharp brows serve editorial chic, while Rita Dominic’s signature Afro puff enhances the quintessential party-girl look. For the sisters, who describe a Nolly Babe as someone who is undeniably self-assured, nailing the distinct beauty aesthetic is about developing a genuine appreciation for the culture and embracing experimentation.

“A lot of people don’t understand the vision,” says Ebele of folks who tap into the trends without actually enjoying the films themselves. Tochi adds, matter-of-factly, “You have to not be afraid to look ugly. Too many people still want to maintain hotness. Know your features, know your face—but you have to be willing to take a chance.”

Freedom in Black Beauty

To Madueke, the resurgence of old Nollywood beauty is about more than aesthetics—it’s about reclaiming individuality. Reflecting on what most inspires her about the women of Nollywood, she remarks, “Their audacity to command any room or anyone that dared to question them! That audacity transcends into looks that embolden—and set our personality apart from the rest. What’s even more exciting is realizing that these looks don’t cater to current beauty standards. They’re simply for the makeup lover or wearer to enjoy.”

On TikTok, a search for #NollywoodY2K pulls up thousands of videos showcasing creative takes on the era’s glam: flipped-out synthetic bobs and luscious Afros, sharp lip liners paired with frosted lipstick, turquoise eye shadow shimmering through clear sunglasses and, of course, those skinny brows. For Black women, who’ve been raised to keep every strand of hair in place, the freedom to have fun and embrace “imperfection” is a welcome reprieve.

According to Tochi and Ebele, who routinely spent their Saturdays at Lagos salons watching those movies when they were growing up, their beauty influences weren’t limited to Nollywood. They also admired Aaliyah, TLC and other Black American artists. Black American culture, particularly through hip-hop, helped to shape the Y2K aesthetic globally, and this impact is evident in Nollywood. Jim Iyke’s bad-boy persona—echoed in today’s new crop of male fashion trendsetters, like singer Rema and media personality/beauty influencer Dénola Grey—can be traced directly to the inspiration provided by American stars like Sisqó and others.

“Many of these fashion and beauty aesthetics were influenced by African-­American street style and beauty standards,” comments Grey, whose bold beauty and fashion choices have earned him both a Fenty Beauty UK cosign and the ire of the conservative Nigerian old guard.

But contrary to what the latest spate of diaspora wars might suggest, old Nollywood and its resurgence demonstrate how communities within the Black diaspora are continuously in conversation, exchanging and influencing each other across borders. “These revived Nollywood trends serve as a bridge between two cultures that have, historically, existed simultaneously but with minimal direct interaction,” Grey says. “They reintroduce key elements of style and identity to a younger, bolder audience that is celebrating them, loudly and collectively.”

Ownership and Influence

On today’s Internet, where some cornrows have been rebranded as “boxer braids” and the line between cultural appreciation and appropriation is blurred, ensuring that Black women maintain ownership of this trend is crucial to the Anueyiagu sisters. Ebele and Tochi, who have two distinct approaches to glam, agree on one thing about the Nolly Babe spirit: She is Black.

At first glance, the Nolly Babes platform falls under the mood board–meets-humor corner of the Internet, but it’s far more than that. “Without social media back then, many of these aesthetics didn’t receive the recognition they deserved,” says Grey. “Nolly Babes not only serves as a repository of entertainment history but highlights an industry that, often unconsciously, created its own subculture.” He emphasizes the role digital media has played in preserving and reviving old Nollywood.

Reflecting on how far their “little Instagram page” has come in centering these trends, which can be seen on today’s stars including singers Tems and Ayra Starr, the sisters are grateful for and amazed by its impact. They hope a sense of agency in beauty is felt by Black women embracing the Nolly Babe spirit. “It’s unfortunate because so much of global beauty standards are dictated by the male gaze, the Western gaze, the White gaze. So much of what we see as beautiful is dictated by something outside of us,” Tochi explains. “In running Nolly Babes, it has been very affirming to lean back and have a sense of confidence in what I decide is beautiful. I get to say what’s beautiful.” (Courtesy of ESSENCE, excluding headline)