My tailor is rich.
Not really, but he is a very nice man. Forty years ago, this was the first sentence French children were taught as they studied English: “My tailor is rich.” I don’t get it. How did he get rich? Are Anglophones so interested in your tailor’s financial status that this should be part of beginner’s English? The mystery tugs at my thoughts every time I head over to visit my tailor, Monsieur Gunyar, at his 6th Arrondissement workshop, L’Art de l’Aiguille (The Art of the Needle). Having a good tailor is very important, especially after a day spent shopping in Paris.
I don’t know if M. Gunyar is rich, but I do know that he is very, very good at what he does. As with every other profession in France, tailors benefit from official status. M. Guynar is a certified master tailor, and not just according to the paperwork. Think I’m exaggerating? The sales staff at Le Bon Marché recommend him for complicated jobs their own staff can’t tackle. My BFF brought him her grandmother’s timeworn 1930s evening dress, and he salvaged it, giving her back a gown perfect for a soirée at the Ritz. He renovated my 1973 Yves Saint Laurent cocktail dress and completely reconstructed a friend’s Jean Paul Gaultier jacket, reducing it two sizes and changing rounded shoulders into something more structured. He gets a perfect score on Qype: five gold stars.
M. Gunyar gained experience in the workshops of an internationally acclaimed haute couture house before he and his wife set up the studio in the 6th, where he can do anything from sewing a simple seam to creating a jacket from scratch. If all those designer names and that vast experience sound intimidating, I assure you that his prices are reasonable, even if you’ve just spent a lot of money shopping in Paris. And the work is always ready in a timely fashion. I’m not really sure how he does it, but I think my tailor should be rich…
Editor’s note: This tailored one-bedroom apartment overlooking Notre Dame is where a smart stylish lady might stay.