Finding bargains are sometimes the best pastime a person can have.
Not too long ago, I bought a brightly colored Indian gown at a music festival that was a steal! At $5, it was glittery, long and glamorous and ideal for wearing on nights that demanded something special. But unfortunately, once I pulled up the zipper, I realized that I either had to start losing weight, or pass the dress down the chute of the nearest charity bin. Was there a solution?
My friend suggested I visit a local tailor to add an extra inch to the dress. The first person I saw was the local seamstress based out of a local laundromat. She gave me an icy stare and asked me how much I was willing to pay her. I mentioned a price and she gave me a silent look that told me the price would be closer to three figures. I walked out.
My friend heard my sad news and referred me to an elderly woman seamstress named "Esther." On a bright and sunny day, I walked into a shop and didn't see this woman extraordinaire. There was a lady but she looked at my request with a look of disdain and I was forced to skunk away, dejected. My friend heard my news and I learned to my surprise that I had gone to the wrong location. "Esther" was located at a different site.
Months passed and yesterday I happened to remember my gown that was sitting in the back seat of my car. Yesterday, I drove up to a shop that was clearly marked "Esther" on the window. I looked in and saw an elderly woman sitting in a chair. Her eyes were closed and it looked as though she was dozing.
The store front was accessed by a metal latch. After several tries, the latch opened and I was surprised to be finally face-to-face with this powerful "Esther". My friend had told me that Esther is an elderly Chinese woman in her eighties who charged very low for her sewing skills. And I mean "very low.' However, Esther spoke only Chinese which was curious, since she had a radio station playing out Canadian pop tunes. She gestured that she could do the job, I think. I am not sure, but after a few tries articulating, I gave up.
There was just one last option. Hussein. My friend offered that I could always try another tailor across the street from Esther's. His name was Hussein.
Opening the door to his small work/office area, I saw several old sewing machines and a door sign indicating to try back in 35 minutes. I looked out back and heard someone call out to Hussein that a customer was waiting.
Hussein greeted me warmly and looked at the dress and asked me what price I would be wiling to pay. I offered something in the neighbourhood of $15. He did not look discouraged. He agreed to do the whole thing for $20.
In a few hours, I arrived home with a gown and a newfound love for tailors, especially a miracle man called Hussein.
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