china dispatch #7 - tailors
Our first few days in China, when we were staying in the guest bedroom of the truly hospitable Bryan and Cathy, we would look at our pile of bags and exclaim about how much stuff we had. One time, though, Cathy heard us and mentioned that she'd always thought, "Wow, only four bags for six months! Pretty good."
It is actually pretty good. I only packed one pair of pants, a few T-shirts, a few nice-ish shirts, and that's it. Same for Catherine. We did indeed bring four pairs of shoes a piece, because China is not a place for tall Westerners to get lots of great shoes (though there are plenty of tall people this far north. Where do they get their footwear?) But for the most part we didn't bring lots of clothes because we knew we'd be able to replenish our wardrobes inexpensively when we got here.
Each of us has found some nice clothing: blouses and jewelry for Catherine, shirts and ties for me, and, remarkably enough, the occasional pair of shoes. The main thing I've been looking forward to, though, is a suit. You can get a bespoke suit here for a fraction of the price you'd pay at home, and you might as well take advantage, right? Though it's been hard to find a good tailor here, I have gotten one suit made: a nice olive-green English number, double-vented, fitted with casualish bone buttons.
Since I'm now playing every weeknight during the month of June, I'm really beginning to hurt for more suits to wear, but I don't want to go back to the one who made this one. Tomorrow I'm going to strike out early and search for one in the district where a friend tipped me off to look. We'll see!
My theory on tailors is simple: you want a slightly cranky old man. The team of tailors who did this suit, being young women, tended to prove my prejudices correct. I'd express worry about a sleeve length, and they'd say, "Oh no, it's fine the way it is." I'd point out a place where the fabric buckled, and they'd press and press and press till it temporarily smoothed out. (And how many times a day did they expect me to do that?)
What you want is to say to your (old man) tailor, "Well, I could just stand more like...this...," and have him say, "Nononono, we're redoing the darts. Take it off, take it off, take it off, give it here." And then he redoes them and the suit looks perfect without your having to stand like anything.
This is similar to my thoughts on stationery. Before the demise of Nancy Harkins, I'd go there and ask them for advice on note cards or thank-yous or whatever, and their first line of advice was, "Well, really, whatever you like; anything goes these days." Exactly what I don't want to hear. I then would go to the old lady in back and tell her to tell me what to get. When you send a note to someone, you don't want their grandmother to shake her head and say, "Well, I guess anything goes these days." You want her to say, "That Brake boy is so nice."
Nonetheless, through being my own cranky old man, I managed to get this suit done quite nicely. And got a beautiful bespoke shirt in the bargain.
How do I look?
It is actually pretty good. I only packed one pair of pants, a few T-shirts, a few nice-ish shirts, and that's it. Same for Catherine. We did indeed bring four pairs of shoes a piece, because China is not a place for tall Westerners to get lots of great shoes (though there are plenty of tall people this far north. Where do they get their footwear?) But for the most part we didn't bring lots of clothes because we knew we'd be able to replenish our wardrobes inexpensively when we got here.
Each of us has found some nice clothing: blouses and jewelry for Catherine, shirts and ties for me, and, remarkably enough, the occasional pair of shoes. The main thing I've been looking forward to, though, is a suit. You can get a bespoke suit here for a fraction of the price you'd pay at home, and you might as well take advantage, right? Though it's been hard to find a good tailor here, I have gotten one suit made: a nice olive-green English number, double-vented, fitted with casualish bone buttons.
Since I'm now playing every weeknight during the month of June, I'm really beginning to hurt for more suits to wear, but I don't want to go back to the one who made this one. Tomorrow I'm going to strike out early and search for one in the district where a friend tipped me off to look. We'll see!
My theory on tailors is simple: you want a slightly cranky old man. The team of tailors who did this suit, being young women, tended to prove my prejudices correct. I'd express worry about a sleeve length, and they'd say, "Oh no, it's fine the way it is." I'd point out a place where the fabric buckled, and they'd press and press and press till it temporarily smoothed out. (And how many times a day did they expect me to do that?)
What you want is to say to your (old man) tailor, "Well, I could just stand more like...this...," and have him say, "Nononono, we're redoing the darts. Take it off, take it off, take it off, give it here." And then he redoes them and the suit looks perfect without your having to stand like anything.
This is similar to my thoughts on stationery. Before the demise of Nancy Harkins, I'd go there and ask them for advice on note cards or thank-yous or whatever, and their first line of advice was, "Well, really, whatever you like; anything goes these days." Exactly what I don't want to hear. I then would go to the old lady in back and tell her to tell me what to get. When you send a note to someone, you don't want their grandmother to shake her head and say, "Well, I guess anything goes these days." You want her to say, "That Brake boy is so nice."
Nonetheless, through being my own cranky old man, I managed to get this suit done quite nicely. And got a beautiful bespoke shirt in the bargain.
How do I look?
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