The art of rest: Idia Aisien’s revolutionary vision for ambitious women

By the time Idia Aisien sits for our interview on a bustling December morning, she has already navigated a schedule that would leave most people depleted. Between the preceding Saturday and our call, she has attended ten events. “There were three today, four on Sunday, two yesterday. It’s been back-to-back,” she explains, her voice warm and remarkably steady despite the velocity of her life. “Last week I supplied drinks to a festival, a shopping party, and a store. It just goes on and on, and there’s really nothing you can do about it because you’re making a living.”

 

This is the central paradox of the modern woman, particularly the Black woman: the expectation to be a “superhero” while maintaining the poise of a portrait. Aisien is the founder of Rich Sleep, Nigeria’s newest luxury sleepwear brand, and  she is also an actor and champagne heiress. She is intimately acquainted with the grind, yet she is building an empire based on its antithesis.

 

“We are conditioned to believe the hustle is mandatory,” she observes. “Gender roles are changing. Honestly, sometimes you need to save yourself right now. It’s amazing to wait for Prince Charming, but if you want certain things, you have to be your own superhero. But imagine being able to do that in a way that you can still achieve your softness? Where the softness isn’t forced — it’s part of your lifestyle.”

The genesis of a sanctuary

This philosophy wasn’t born in a boardroom; it was forged in the quiet, hollow spaces of profound personal loss. In 2019, when Aisien lost her father, the simple biological necessity of sleep became an elusive luxury for her entire family. “None of us could sleep — me, my siblings, all of us,” she recalls, her voice softening. “We had a hard time resting, and of course, in Nigeria, you’re running to your village, going back and forth for the rites. We were buying sleep sprays for each other, and it was just a moment where I realised that there are all these things that can help a person feel relaxed, even when  your body is denying you the ability to calm down.”

 

This realisation — that rest often requires an external infrastructure — planted the seeds for what would become Rich Sleep. The concept was further distilled during the forced introspection of the COVID-19 pandemic. As the world shuttered, Aisien noticed a telling divide in how people handled the confinement.

 

“You could see the divide,” she says. “The people with comfortable spaces kept right on filming, but everyone else just went quiet. It was this sudden moment of reckoning where it finally hit people — ‘Oh my god, I actually have to live in this house now’”. COVID-19 was the ultimate stress test for the domestic sanctuary. When the “fancy clothes” were rendered useless, many realised they were uncomfortable in their own skin. “I realised that if you’re stuck indoors, your wardrobe suddenly has a different job to do. We couldn’t wear our fancy clothes; we were forced into loungewear. I’ve always loved pyjamas — I’m that person who would walk through Harrods and just linger in the home section, dreaming about creating products that felt that special.”

 

For Aisien, the brand’s slogan, “Heaven on Earth,” is far more than marketing speak; it is a survival strategy. “My home has always been like the heaven I can go to when the world feels like hell,” she explains. “I wanted those products to be able to help people deal with everything out there when they get home.”

Scepticism and the “Naked” myth

For nearly two years, Aisien refined her concept for Rich Sleep. Moving away from an initial plan to focus on sleep medicine, sprays and orthopaedic aids, she found her place within the world of aesthetic luxury. She benchmarked her prototypes against brands like The White Company, obsessed with bringing that international calibre to a Nigerian market.

 

Even within her own family, she encountered the scepticism common to any disruptor. One of her sisters was initially dismissive. “She said, ‘I don’t understand. You want to make nightwear? People sleep naked.’” Aisien laughs at the memory. “And I said, ‘Okay,’ and made sure I didn’t market anything to her.”

 

She relied on the product’s integrity to do the convincing. The turning point came through the unfiltered honesty of her nieces. “Their children came over — three of my nieces were in my house — and one of them said, ‘Auntie Idia, my mum said your sleepwear is the softest fabric she has ever felt in her life.’ And that other sister heard our niece say that.” The “naked” argument was forgotten instantly. “Now, that family has ordered for their entire extended family, her husband’s side — they’ve ordered a bunch of pyjamas for Christmas,” Aisen giggles.

 

This pattern repeated itself at a party for Polo Avenue, where Aisien met a prominent Nigerian banker. When she introduced herself as the creator of the “best pyjamas in the world,” he was predictably dismissive. “He said, ‘How can you say you make the best? Me, I will just sleep in shirts and whatever.’”

 

Aisien didn’t flinch. “I said, ‘Sir, I can see that you work very hard. Can I interest you in something that could help you relax?’” After she showed him the website and mentioned that Rich Sleep was already supplying luxury resorts and major corporations within its first week, his scepticism vanished. He bought a set for his wife, then one for himself. “Now he’s already ordered another set for himself and other sets for his wife. I love a repeat buy.”

The “Strong Black Woman” trap

Beyond the textiles, Aisien is tackling a complex sociological barrier: the “Strong Black Woman” trope. In a culture that glorifies the “grind,” rest is often positioned as a weakness or a luxury that hasn’t been “earned.”

 

“A woman has to be a superhero, a mother, a maid,” she says, referencing the Paris Paloma song “Labour” that often plays in her workspace. “You also now want her to be a breadwinner. It’s a lot. We’re not even really fully allowed to be women anymore. And then sometimes they’ll say, ‘Oh, but I thought you said you wanted to be a feminist.’ And that’s not what feminism is about. But it’s okay. We’re capable. We’re more than capable. But if you can make money while creating softness for people, why not?”

 

She is particularly focused on women reclaiming their feminine power guilt-free. She believes we are moving into an era where women are returning to their feminine sides, and she wants Rich Sleep to be the uniform for that transition. “You deserve to rest. You deserve that balance. If you’re working harder, you deserve to rest more.”

 

This understanding of self-worth is why she chose to manufacture locally in Nigeria, despite the ease of importing ready-made goods from China. “Is it really unique if I just ship a bunch of pieces from China? What’s special about it? How is the essence of the community or society I’m trying to create? They say you create the society you want, right?”

 

While she acknowledges China’s capabilities, she insists on the “Hermès model” of handcrafted intimacy for Rich Sleep. “I wanted to be heavily involved in the process of choosing each fabric, each trimming, each detail, each design. I don’t think it’s special if a truckload of 5,000 just comes in; if there’s a problem with stitching, you can’t check everything.”

 

This decision brings more work, but for Aisien, it brings more dignity. She grows animated, describing her team. “If you saw the work my tailors do, you’d understand. Sometimes I’m the one saying, ‘We need to go to bed,’ and they’ll insist, ‘No ma, we’ll sleep when we’re finished.’ There is this pervasive myth that Nigerians are lazy, but it’s completely wrong. People aren’t lazy; they just need something to be passionate about and the opportunity to prove it. My team is just as obsessed with this brand as I am.”

Breaking the intergenerational jungle

Perhaps the most radical aspect of Rich Sleep is its inclusion of pieces for babies and children. For Aisien, this is about breaking intergenerational cycles of survival-mode living.

 

“We are moving past the era where a child is treated as little more than an extension of a maid — expected to spend their days sweeping, cleaning, and performing ‘Cinderella duties.’ Those days are over. There is a new realisation that children, like adults, are far more productive when they have the space to rest and refill,” she says. She draws a sharp line between childhood environments and adult outcomes. “There is a fundamental clash between those raised in love and those raised in survival. It creates a world where people look at someone happy and ask, ‘What is wrong with this one? Why are you always smiling?’ They aren’t used to seeing joy as a baseline, so to them, a smile feels like a performance — it seems fake.”

 

She believes that nurturing softness from a young age changes the biological trajectory of a person. “When you nurture children to embrace softness and relaxation from a young age, they perform better. They are more productive, and they think with greater clarity. This isn’t about encouraging laziness; it’s about recognising that after a rigorous day of play or school, children need a stress-reducing lifestyle integrated into their routine to truly thrive.”

 

When the conversation shifts to the trauma often associated with the phrase “loving parents” on social media, Aisien is sympathetic to the “wild west” of family dynamics that many navigate. “Rest is something that is truly very intimate. So if you’re able to rest with a person, then that’s a lot of love, that’s a lot of intimacy. There’s a lot of connection there.”

The sensory ritual of the return

Aisien doesn’t just sell the lifestyle; she lives it with a granular attention to detail. During our call, she literally gets up to show me her sanctuary — a bathroom and closet that house her nightly rituals.

 

The air is filled with the scent of Giglio di Firenze by Dr. Vranjes Firenze. Her collection of Tree Hut body scrubs is kept in alphabetical order — Dragon Fruit, Lotus Water, Lychee Kiss, Strawberry. She points out the ‘Lychee Kiss’ specifically: “This one has glitter in it. So literally when you come out after the scrub, your body is glowing.”

 

Her routine is a meticulously curated mix of “fun” products like Sundae Whipped Shower Foam and Native vanilla-coconut deodorant, and high-end medical precision. “I’m religious about using my retinol and other products prescribed by my dermatologist. That’s really important.” She recently added Chanel’s Le Lift Pro set to her arsenal. But her most prized possession is a discontinued Hawaiian body butter from The Body Shop. “I bought so many. There’s nothing like it.”

 

This dedication to sensory excellence is balanced by a disciplined morning routine of meditation and positive self-talk. She attributes her own physical health — specifically the rapid growth of her natural hair — to her mental state. “I tell myself: you are heavily supported, you are spiritually guided, the universe is on your side. I speak positively to myself, and I think it really shows; it resonates.”

The radical act of shutting down

As the brand nears its second week of existence, having already supplied major resorts and seen overwhelming sales, Aisien is planning her most daring move yet: she is disappearing.

 

“I’m shutting down,” she says. “I’ve done all this work, and I’m shutting down to go to a retreat abroad where, for the next couple of weeks into the new year, it will just be meditation, yoga, and a new vision board. I’m preparing for 2026.”

 

It is a move that defies the traditional laws of a startup launch, but for Aisien, it is the only way to sustain the vision. She understands that rest isn’t just about recovery; it’s about creating the mental space for what’s next.

 

Ultimately, she is challenging a cultural habit of self-neglect that she sees too often in Nigeria — the tendency for people to just tie their wrappers with their ‘adieu papa’ shirts, and just stay in the house. She believes that how we treat ourselves in private is our truest measure of self-worth.

 

“There’s no reward for suffering,” she says flatly. “I don’t know why people want to suffer.”

 

Her final message to ambitious women everywhere is a letter of permission. “Be kinder to yourself. Dream big, do not limit yourself, but also know that it’s okay to take breaks.” In Aisien’s world, the hustle doesn’t have to hurt, and ambition doesn’t require the sacrifice of one’s soul. When her team finally perfects a product, they celebrate with a collective sigh.

 

It is that sigh — of accomplishment, of safety, and of finally being able to let go — that Rich Sleep is trying to give back to women everywhere.