The Honest Tailor

For the last few years I have been going to Mr Nicola Ricci, the tailor on Rathdowne street.

He is 86 years old and seems to enjoy remarkably good health for a man who smokes incessantly. He often leaves a lit cigarette smouldering on his work bench, but I haven't found any scorch marks on my clothes yet. The only change I have noticed over that past 7 years is that he now wears chemist glasses with the prescription sticker still on the lens.

I first met Mr Ricci after the great Vintage Dress Disaster of 2005. I had bought a beautiful blue party dress with ruched sleeves. I wanted to get rid of the sleeves, to make it more 'summer day dress' and less 'Molly Ringwald goes to a birthday party!'* My housemate Ian was very confident that he knew just what was needed.

I should have known when Ian picked up the kitchen scissors that it would not end well. IT WAS A TEXAS PARTY DRESS MASSACRE.

Enter Mr Ricci, tailor. He was very disappointed with me. Very disappointed indeed.

NR, Tailor: "Why you chop?? Hmmm?? Why you chop?? You, you must never chop! You buy, you bring to me."

LM: murmurs of chastised agreement

NR, Tailor: "But, I can fix."

And fix it he did!! This man knows what he's doing. He used to make costumes for opera and films stars in the 50s. He is friendly and exuberant. I love the fact that he is still working and obviously enjoys his work. I'm pretty sure it will be illegal for me to practise medicine when I am 86.

Mr Ricci always speaks his mind:

On a dress I wanted taken in: "Well, I could do that, but it would make your behind look TOO BIG!"
On trousers I wanted shortened: "I will do as you say. But my length looks better."
On another dress I needed taken in: "See, now you can see the breast! Before, too big, you looked like young boy!"
And he's right- his length IS better.

*For the record, if I got the dress today I would keep the ruched sleeves.

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