Did you know what I missed most this Easter and Lockdown?
It’s that I didn’t see clown (horrible) attires that trigger unending laughter any time I remember the design, courtesy of the tailors and seamstresses who are supposed to clothe us in fitting attires for events.
Thinking about that now, you also missed that especially when you are not the person in the attire. We have all had a fair share of that, at least once.
To usher you into the moment we decided relive a few moments. Grab a drink because it’s INTELLECTS and chill time!
I was to go for Kay’s wedding, then I decided to sew a style I had admired for a long time. I relocated temporarily to Anambra state from Cross River, so I needed a new seamstress. I found a particular shop attractive and it seemed to be worth the try. After a little chat, I showed her the style and she assured me it was a done deal, I gave her my material and paid. Confidently, she called me to pick my dress. What I saw was like the case of ‘what you ordered versus what they delivered’. I wore it that way.
Last December, I was only interested in having something to wear for my parents Chieftaincy Installation. I trusted this seamstress with the only attire I needed for the season. The day we were to travel to the village, I went to pick my dress. The woman had not even cut the materials (perhaps she was planning to help me resell). I just wore a jean and top in low spirits. Till this day, even the shoe I bought for the attire is lying untouched.
I fell in love with a fabric I found in the market, so I bought and thought to add a new dress to my wardrobe. I went to my seamstress and gave her a style as usual. The day I went to fit and pick my dress, we exchanged pleasantries as usual and she asked if I came visiting since I had no material. I laughed it off, meanwhile at the entrance was the same material I gave her but a different style and size. To cut the long story short, my seamstress used my material for another client. What manner of act is that?!
My birthday was on a Saturday last year, and same day was a friend’s wedding, and I was in the league of his groom’s men. I looked forward to the day in high spirit. I decided to gift myself a customized suit which I will be wearing to the wedding. My tailor gave me an assurance that all is well. For some reasons we agreed I will pick it the early that morning; I wish I could see the future because that was a real wrong decision. So, on Saturday morning, while the boys were teasing our friend in church, and the wedding was going on, I was dressed in a casual wear, sitting in the tailor’s shop and waiting for him to finish my suit because going home was going to get me stuck in traffic.
I belonged to the girls’ guild and we were preparing for a march past to celebrate the girls’ week in the church. Marching was an activity I enjoyed and I was very good at it, so I joined the girls’ and was behind the flag bearers but I needed a uniform. The uniform was a white shirt tucked in a green skirt, a cap and a tie. Every member had one, I had one but my white shirt was old; so I got a material and took the shirt as a sample to a seamstress that always beckoned on me to patronize her. A day to the march past, I went to pick my shirt, it looked beautiful but the collar was nothing to be a seamstress for. My friend encouraged me to try it on with the tie. I almost choked that day, looking like a ram being dragged to church for a child dedication. The group provided with a shirt I could use that evening.
It happened sometime last year. I had a function to attend and needed to be nicely and stylishly dressed for the occasion. Nigerian stylists and their usual disappointments, I wasn’t going to take chances so I got the fabrics and gave them to my seamstress ahead of time. I made sure to call from time to time to supervise the making of my outfit and for each call, my seamstress gave me an assurance that all was going well. The due date for collection was here, I was in her house by 9:30pm to meet the highlight of the day; she had just finished cutting my fabric! And was yet to sew it!! I felt my world crumble because I had no alternative wear and I had to leave for the neighboring town very early the next day for the occasion. I left my seamstress’ place after much arguments but of course without my clothes.
A certain seamstress convinced my mum to convince her and my material was the first trial. First, she missed the style, but my sisters said it wasn’t so bad, so I wore it to granny’s house we had a little family event. After the meal, the dirty plates were quite much so we had to wash them outside; my cousins (peers) and I. As soon as I bent to wash the plates, I heard a cracking sound, it was my dress. I stood up to see the part that covered my stomach was torn. I would have been better off wearing a crop top than that dress. I told mum patronizing that woman was going to be an error and it did happen.
We draw the curtain here!
Make sure your fashion stylist is an assurance not an insurance except you want to make it to The Intellects’ Magazine screen in the next episode.