I arrived just after noon, persistent rain, water calm, the crowd already curated. It wasn’t the usual chaos — no one pushing, no endless waiting, no confusion about access. Everyone looked like they’d been invited to something meant for them.
The first thing that struck me wasn’t the boats — it was the silence. Electric engines, smooth and controlled, gliding across the lagoon. Lagosians didn’t know what to do with that kind of quiet. You could see it on people’s faces — the confusion, the curiosity, and then, slowly, the admiration.
I ran into a few familiar faces — someone from fashion, someone from tech, a prince, a friend who insists on wearing white linen even when it rains. We stood by the railing, a drink in hand, pretending we understood the rules of E1 boat racing. None of us did. But we understood aesthetics — and that’s what this was.
E1 wasn’t thrilling like Formula 1. It was cleaner, slower, more restrained. It felt… grown up. Lagos, but with manners.
By late afternoon, the rain softened, the light turned gold, and conversations got warmer. People stopped performing and started enjoying. There was something soothing about it — a luxury event that didn’t feel like it was trying too hard.
As I left, I thought — maybe this is what evolution looks like.
Lagos can still be bold, loud, magnetic — but we’re learning the beauty of restraint.
And if you ask me, that’s real sophistication:
knowing when to make noise,
and when to simply let presence speak.