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: âMy tailor is rich.â I donât get it. How did he get rich? Are Anglophones so interested in your tailorÃ¢ÂÂs financial status that this should be part of beginnerÃ¢ÂÂs English? The mystery tugs at my thoughts every time I head over to visit my tailor, Monsieur Gunyar, at his 6th Arrondissement workshop, LâArt de lâAiguille (The Art of the Needle). Having a good tailor is very important, especially after a day spent shopping in Paris.
I donât 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 Iâm exaggerating? The sales staff at Le Bon MarchÃÂ© recommend him for complicated jobs their own staff canât tackle.ÃÂ My BFF brought him her grandmotherâs timeworn 1930s evening dress, and he salvaged it, giving her back a gown perfect for a soirÃÂ©e at the Ritz. He renovated my 1973 Yves Saint Laurent cocktail dress and completely reconstructed a friendâs 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 youÃ¢ÂÂve just spent a lot of money shopping in Paris. And the work is always ready in a timely fashion. Iâm not really sure how he does it, but I think my tailor should be richâ¦