I love my tailor.
Jan. 19th, 2009 05:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
d_aulnoyI may bitch about living out in the boonies, but all things considered, our house is pretty rad: the geography is convenient to everything a ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
d_aulnoy needs to feel at home.
One of my favorites? My tailor. My tailor has replaced the linings of two perfect coats that I was about to give up for dead because they no longer had any pockets: my beloved shiny peacock-blue princess-line coat, and my black H&M trenchcoat that fits like a dream (the former in cherry-red, the latter in pitch-black: I now sort of wish I'd had both lined in red, but c'est la vie). My tailor is going to put a slit up the back of the glorious, incredibly narrow, black, floor-length velvet Kay Unger skirt that was supposed to go for $250 but that crept down to a startling $15 bucks (I can only assume because every woman who tried it on tried taking a step that spanned more than 6 inches, came up short thanks to the hobbling function, and said "Haaaaaaaaaayll no"). My tailor is going to fix the belt on the vintage silk brocade ice-blue wrap dress from the '50s that I found at the Rose Bowl flea market. My tailor is awesome.
I think that everybody needs a tailor, but sadly, in this day and age, few people seem to have them. It's like, either you know how to sew (which is fabulous if you do, but I was too busy with the blowtorch to pick up the needle ... a state to be rectified should I ever have the time, along with my deplorable lack of cooking skills, and my lamentable inability to belly-dance, blow glass, or do that thing where you clamber gracefully around on a long drapery of silk before winding it around yourself and letting it dramatically unfurl as you plunge 50 feet), or you throw all your clothing away when it wears out, or you walk around like a shlub, tripping all over your hems and watching sadly as your spare change pours out of the holes in your pockets.
Which unsung professions do you applaud? Which ones could you just plain not live without?
d_aulnoy needs to feel at home.One of my favorites? My tailor. My tailor has replaced the linings of two perfect coats that I was about to give up for dead because they no longer had any pockets: my beloved shiny peacock-blue princess-line coat, and my black H&M trenchcoat that fits like a dream (the former in cherry-red, the latter in pitch-black: I now sort of wish I'd had both lined in red, but c'est la vie). My tailor is going to put a slit up the back of the glorious, incredibly narrow, black, floor-length velvet Kay Unger skirt that was supposed to go for $250 but that crept down to a startling $15 bucks (I can only assume because every woman who tried it on tried taking a step that spanned more than 6 inches, came up short thanks to the hobbling function, and said "Haaaaaaaaaayll no"). My tailor is going to fix the belt on the vintage silk brocade ice-blue wrap dress from the '50s that I found at the Rose Bowl flea market. My tailor is awesome.
I think that everybody needs a tailor, but sadly, in this day and age, few people seem to have them. It's like, either you know how to sew (which is fabulous if you do, but I was too busy with the blowtorch to pick up the needle ... a state to be rectified should I ever have the time, along with my deplorable lack of cooking skills, and my lamentable inability to belly-dance, blow glass, or do that thing where you clamber gracefully around on a long drapery of silk before winding it around yourself and letting it dramatically unfurl as you plunge 50 feet), or you throw all your clothing away when it wears out, or you walk around like a shlub, tripping all over your hems and watching sadly as your spare change pours out of the holes in your pockets.
Which unsung professions do you applaud? Which ones could you just plain not live without?