I don’t even…I can’t even…the trauma I’ve experienced under the hands of Nigerian tailors isn’t allowing me to finish some of my sentences.
We all have phrases which make us anxious. One of mine is the following phrase: ‘Hi Ivie, I would like to give you this aso-ebi fabric for XYZ event…’ My anxiety wouldn’t be about attending your event; my anxiety would be from the fact that I would have to seek out yet another tailor to sew the fabric, and pray that it wouldn’t be one who would frustrate me or make me want to pull out my hair in handfuls.
Is it the one that takes your measurements from head to toe, only for the clothes made to be either fit for a Barbie doll, or for a healthy elephant?
Or the one that sews a style that you did not choose, and justifies it by saying that he felt a more modest style would suit you better?
How about the ghost, who disappears on you for weeks and only produces your (badly) sewn clothes after several threats?
Or the ‘business mogul’, who charges you a price so ridiculous that you assume that the finished product should at least be red-carpet worthy…but it ends up being just mediocre at best?
I can’t even…what has been your experience with tailors?
Day 10 #nablopomo