Here are a few shots of our new clothes! We went back to the fabric market Saturday, in what is fast becoming a weekly ritual, and of course my overcoat was too big, so they had to make some adjustments, which were to be ready Sunday. That was all well and good, because in the meantime, Tiffany found four more fabrics that she decided would look excellent cut up into custom shirts made for her. And to emphasize one of China’s great assets (cheap labor), she said we were coming back on Sunday, and was there any way they could possibly have the shirts ready in 24 hours? “No problem,” they replied.
On Sunday evening we returned to the market and my coat was still not ready, but the saleslady told me to “follow that guy” and he would finish up my coat on the spot. So I followed him: out of the fabric market, down the street, off into a dark alley which led into a clump of crowded homes, and into his house, which he seemed to be sharing with two other families. I know, maybe not the smartest decision, but I figured the cashmere coat lady would never lead me astray. I mean, she’s still pushing for me to buy some suits off of her…
Anyway, the local residents tend to live in these clusters of 2-3 story homes, all jammed up next to each other. As we walked deeper into the housing block, there was a lot of activity, from doing laundry to feeding the pet rabbit to cooking dinner (perhaps the old pet rabbit) to people biking home through the alleyways. And so I could see into everyone’s homes. What I noticed was that 1) there was NO space anywhere, and 2) people made excellent use of what little space they had. Clothes hung outside across the alleyway, and inside wherever it fit. Rice cookers sat steaming on top of tv's, which faced the multi-purpose sofa/bed/dining room chair sitting and sleeping apparatus. At every few houses was an outdoor water spout and sink, the only source of running water. Bikes were parked on the fire escape.
When we got to the tailor’s home, he parked his bike inside the front door, where 4 other bikes were already cramping the small entry way, and carefully stepped across the unfinished concrete floor into the next room. Here the home opened up into a slightly larger common area, with three cooking areas located next to each other. There was a lady cooking over a burner, and in the area next to her another lady cleaned some vegetables. The tailor walked past them into the back room, which was the biggest, maybe 10' x 6'. A drafting table strewn with half finished clothing sat in the middle, with multiple sewing machines lining the outer walls, and a stack of finished product bagged in the corner. A man sat at one machine and tailored a shirt while a little girl watched him intently. When she leaned in to try and move the fabric alongside the whirring needle, she was rewarded with a sharp bark in Chinese from the man, and she pulled away. A little.
The whole experience was a little surreal, as are most of our new experiences here in China, and fascinating. The confusingly interwoven, narrow streets in a dimly lit neighborhood, packed to the “seams” with people and goods is the standard here in Shanghai. And your ears are overwhelmed with the sounds of people chattering, bikes and cars screeching, kitchens boiling and bubbling, water running and every other daily life activity that could possibly take place, but all at once and multiplied to the nth degree.
In the end, the tailor told me it would take an hour to finish my coat, and I told him it was getting late and I didn’t have time (I’d also left Tiffany back in the market), and that I’d have to get it from him next week. But, I told him, I’d be more than happy to make the trip back into his neighborhood to pick up from his home, now that I knew the way.
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