A Bespoke Tailor Dishes on Blacked-Out Clients, Fittings at Nude Parties and Lining Jackets With Hermès Scarves

Anonymous
·5 min read

I’ve seen so many things in this job that the unusual has become so common as to be unremarkable. I’ve lost count of the number of lovers—of both sexes—I’ve seen. But there are still things that occur that are shocking enough I doubt I’ll ever forget them.

During the holidays much earlier in my career, one gentleman staggered into the store, extremely well oiled, probably after his office party. He managed to slur that he wanted a tuxedo, so my boss began to measure him while I made notes. I noticed that the boss neglected to finish measuring the trousers, which I thought was odd. I would never question him in front of a client, so I kept quiet, but as he stood up, I understood why. The client had pissed himself while having his inseam taken. Without even noticing, I might add.

More from Robb Report

My boss and I assumed we’d never see him again so didn’t bother processing the order, but a month later the man phoned to ask when the first fitting would be. So we thought, “Well, at least he’s remembered—we can cut the cloth and charge the card.” He never mentioned the incident, and neither did we.

Another memorable moment occurred when I was summoned to do a house call for a famous actor. I was excited, as this could have been a game changer for me. My colleague and I arrived and knocked on the door, and we noticed a bunch of naked men and women walking around. I thought, “Oh, man—this is a bad start.” They had no idea who we were, why we were there and certainly no idea why we had clothes on. Then somebody said, “Wait, they’re the tailors. They’re here to see X.” At this point, I can see through the windows that the guy is in the pool, naked, and he’s not alone.

So we wait, and finally he comes in with no clothes on, soaking wet. He’s clearly coked out of his mind. I started measuring him naked, but it doesn’t work. Ironically, it’s easier to see details about someone’s body when they’re dressed—you can’t imagine how the cloth will drape otherwise. And, of course, my measuring tape could not go places where it needed to.

All this time he was saying he could fly me all over the world, introduce me to his friends, make millions of dollars, blah blah. Obnoxious. I took his details, got back in the car and tore the order up. But he had no idea who we were at that point, so it made no difference.

You witness all aspects of human behavior. I had a lovely client, a businessman who was just as wealthy as that other guy but the complete opposite: very sweet and humble. I got a call from him, which was unusual, as normally his team would make the arrangements. He said, “I’m so sorry to ask, but would you mind coming to the office, as I’m a little unwell? Nothing contagious, but I can’t really travel.”

I went over. He said, “I’m very sick, and my body is going to change a lot. You’re going to need to remeasure me quite often.” I’d go and see him every few weeks, alter his pattern as his condition worsened, and he’d order a bunch of shirts. The last time I saw him, he was on a ventilator in a wheelchair attended by two nurses. He ordered six tuxedo shirts, and I thought, “Where the hell is he going to wear these?” He passed away soon after, and those shirts just sat in my shop, paid for, $700 apiece. That stack of shirts was just the saddest thing.

I’ve heard from other tailors of similar experiences—clients who are terminally ill, ordering hundreds of thousands of dollars of clothes while renovating a house or whatever. They do it up to the moment they die. As tailors, we play a part in shielding these people from accepting that they’re coming to the end, as we all do, no matter how rich. They’re so powerful, having lived a life of invincibility on Wall Street or elsewhere, they think, “How is this the end for me? It can’t be.”

But our bodies change no matter what we do. I had a 95-year-old who was impossible to make clothes for. Not because there was anything wrong, but because he was so old he couldn’t stand up straight anymore. First fitting was fine. Second fitting, he’s leaning forward. Third fitting, more forward, and now he’s complaining about the fit. I had to say, “Your head is an inch farther forward than it was a few months ago. You’re a moving target.” They always blame it on me. I’d love to know if they have the same conversations with their doctors.

But I’m lucky. I’ve had some wonderful people as clients, and still do. The day after we were locked down during Covid, one of my best customers called up saying, “You know those six suits we were talking about for next season? Let’s put them into production right now—that should cover your rent for the rest of the year.”

And on the last day of my most recent trunk show, a phenomenal customer who has ordered many things over the years asked how it had been for me. I said I didn’t think it had gone that great. So he said, “Hold on,” and called three people who all came over to my suite within a few minutes. I did $50,000 of business in half an hour.

Speaking of big spenders, I once had a guy who would drop a quarter million a season. Everything cashmere or vicuña. Even if he had to buy the same six gray and navy suits every winter in cashmere flannel, because the previous ones might have worn down a little, he didn’t care. He wanted everything lined in Hermès scarves, too. That was just who he was. And you know what? Along with all the other types of client, you need a few like him.

The anonymous tailor has been making clothes for all types of people for many decades. He hopes someone reads this and thinks, “Wow, maybe my tailor is worthy of a bit more respect.” 

Best of Robb Report

Sign up for Robb Report's Newsletter. For the latest news, follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Click here to read the full article.