holes in shirts

The other day, I managed to rip a giant hole into a brand new dress shirt of mine. I was pretty upset, but figured that any descent tailor could fix it. This morning I ventured out to bring my shirt to the tailor and was informed that it couldn’t be fixed. It was a small Asian guy who just simply was too proud to work on my shirt. I am not sure what he thinks is a respectable project? A suit, pants or a dress? If he really is too pride of a tailor to work on my shirt, maybe he should switch professions. Stop shortening girl’s pants by quarters of inches and go be famous. Yet, if you are going to operate a small tiny little tailor shop downtown Seattle (called Adam Tailor), then please don’t get upset when I bring you a shirt to work on.

I of course was rather upset when returning to the office. As I am telling the story of the proud tailor to Natilee, I manage to rip a hole into the next shirt.
Same corner, different shirt. I am an idiot.