Back in Los Angeles a friend had recommended a Hong Kong tailor.
There's nothing like an outfit cut and sewn just for you, she gushed. And the craftsmanship is outstanding. When in Hong Kong and all that, I guessed. And here I was once more...shopping.
At night, I lay awake imagining designs for myself and, oh, perfect, an off-white linen suit for William. Does William want a linen suit? Irrelevant.
I decided to track the gentleman tailor down and see what he had to say for himself. I stepped into a dark, musty office building on Nathan Road, took a creaky elevator to the second floor and entered a showroom filled floor to ceiling with fabric bolts, design books and fashion magazines. The slender tailor, in his striped dress shirt, blue tie and requisite measuring tape around his neck, greeted me and we talked clothes.
I pointed to a picture of Paris Hilton wearing a pair of swank trousers with a matching jacket and asked him if I was being ridiculous. He assured me I was not. I believed him. He's very good, I thought, and together we chose a navy Thai silk.
He took my measurements, which are not remotely close to those of Paris Hilton. Heady with fantasy, I decided to splurge on a second outfit. Together we came up with a design: a sleeveless top to match a pair of flared pants in red silk brocade.
The talented tailor created an outfit so glamorous it would take me a full four years to drum up the courage to wear it out of the house.
The clothing I commissioned was not inexpensive, but compared to what tailor-made would have run back home, it was an excellent deal.
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