The Shape of a Stranger
How an old tailor saw a man he'd never met.
The Master of the Tape Measure
It was nearly a month before my sister-in-law was going to be married to her new groom.
The groom invited me to be a part of his groomsmen, so I needed to be fitted for a tuxedo.
The business he chose for this service was a place I drove by time and time again, but never actually stopped in.
I picked up my brother-in-law since he was going to be a part of this wedding as well and headed down to be sized up.
One of the first things I noticed walking into this old-fashioned establishment was a beautiful spiral staircase.
I am not sure where it led, but I don’t recall ever having seen one of its kind.
As we made our way to the counter and gave our names, an old man came out from the back.
The only tool he had was a tape measure.
Within less than five minutes, he had both of our sizes, and we were out the door.
I was expecting this entire process to take maybe half an hour, but I left surprised.
I asked him a question, already knowing the answer before I left, saying,
“You’ve been doing this for a while?”
He said,
“No, I just started.”
As serious as ever.
Then he started laughing and told me he had been doing this for around forty-five years.
Interesting.
I have been measured before at another place, and I remember the process taking between thirty minutes and an hour.
The lady surely wasn’t a professional but was clearly working there for a paycheck.
This guy, however, appeared to be the real deal.
I likely would have never thought twice about this experience if what happened next had not happened.
Seeing What Others Miss
It was now a few days before the wedding.
I was at the park meeting with another groomsman and his family.
We began talking about the old guy at the tuxedo place.
I told him that the guy was extremely fast.
It seemed no sooner had I walked in than I was already walking back out.
This groomsman, however, was from out of town and did not go to this guy to be measured.
He was measured out where he lived and called the guy with his measurements.
The groomsman said,
“Man, I called this guy and gave him my measurements, and he told me he would not use those measurements, but would go with different ones.”
This instantly caught my attention.
I told him that this was crazy.
How would this guy know what his size was and that these measurements were wrong if he had never even seen him before?
I could not wait to ask him this the next time I saw him.
Now, the day before the rehearsal dinner, we show up to pick up the tuxedos.
I will say everything fit very well, minus a quick switch in the undershirt and the shoes being slightly tight.
As the old man was examining how everything fit, I said,
“I have a question that I have been dying to know the answer to!”
One groomsman told me he gave you his measurements over the phone, and you said you would not use them, but would use different ones instead.
How did you know those measurements weren’t right?
He says,
“I asked the guy what size shirt and pants he wears and decided based on that. Oh yeah, by the way, it fit like a glove.”
Fascinated, I looked at what appeared to be a master at work before me.
I then turned into what felt like interview mode, asking him question after question, trying to understand him, how he got to this point, and what his plans were for the future.
I mean, he was pushing eighty, and I couldn’t imagine that he was going to be running this store much longer.
If you follow me on Substack, you know my interest is in seeing things that others don’t see.
I enjoy learning about situations where people are looking at the same thing, and one person can see so much deeper into what is going on, while others can’t.
What I find different about this situation is that the tailor was not even looking at the picture.
Where this groomsman originally received his measurements, he would have been right in front of somebody.
This person would have been able to use the same tool the old tailor had, a measuring tape, and could also have asked him any further questions.
Not only did he have this opportunity, but I would imagine somebody who is good at what they do could likely see somebody and get a basic understanding of what their size might be.
The first place I was measured operated similarly.
However, all this man had were some numbers to go on.
Sure, he could have made the suit to that size as requested, and if it came out wrong, it would have been no fault of his own.
Yet, this was a master of the craft.
He likely had seen this happen before and would not be stumped by it.
If he hadn’t measured the person himself, there was likely doubt in his mind that there could be an error.
He collected more information to compare with to get a better idea of who this guy was.
I imagine he was seeing the shape of this person in his head as he was receiving the measurements and then the clothing sizes over the phone.
He then responds with the size he wants to use.
As the groomsman put it,
“It fit perfectly.”
The Cost of Integrity
There is no question why this man could stay in business for forty-five years.
This man not only enjoyed what he was doing.
Years spent pursuing what he loved shaped him into a master of his craft.
The neighborhood he was in would have been a prime area in Cincinnati when he started, but now, as he approached retirement age, it was falling apart.
One of my questions was:
“What happens to this place after you are done?”
He said they were going to close it down.
Nobody wanted to buy it.
This place was near a popular high school in the area, and I assumed he received a lot of business from proms and homecomings.
He told me that business was continuing to decline because the kids weren’t interested in his store’s offerings, but wanted clothes from Amazon.
They wanted shirts that could match their date’s dresses.
Instead of the classy shoes he sold, they wanted the Nikes to match.
“What are you going to do to stay relevant? Start selling Nikes,” I said.
He said,
“Absolutely not!”
From a business standpoint, I found this to be the wrong way to respond to this trend.
I am reminded of statements such as, “This is how we have always done it.”
Many places cannot adapt to the market, and they become irrelevant.
However, I could absolutely understand where this guy was coming from.
He built his livelihood on running this business, became very good at it, and carried a line of clothing that exhibited class.
I could picture Hank Hill running a grill shop down the road, selling the finest propane grills.
Do you think he is going to switch to charcoal because that’s what the people were doing?
By no means!
He would shut that place down before he went against what he believed in.
Although this tailor may not have a business in a few years, I do not think his story should go unknown.
His website says in the about section,
“His expertise, attention to detail, and commitment to outstanding service have made him a trusted name in formalwear.”
I feel these are words almost anybody in the business would put on their website.
It was these three features of the experience that I appreciated the most.
This was actually who he was, not just a selling point.
I witnessed something like this, and the question began nagging at me,
“What is the lesson from this story that can be learned and applied?”
I see a man who has a passion for helping people look their best when celebrating big moments in their lives.
This wasn’t a guy who did not know what he was going to do with his life and said,
“Well, I guess I could start a formalwear business. I don’t know if this excites me, but it would pay the bills.”
If this were who he was, he likely would have closed the business a long time ago.
Surely, he is old enough to retire.
Having run the business for forty-five years, I don’t think he is staying around for the money.
I think this guy is doing something that he loves.
He exhibited a love for the job in the experience he provides for those who walk through his doors.
The Price of Admission
As I consider the lesson of the story, what can be learned and applied, it has to be to pursue what you are truly passionate about.
It makes me wonder how many people are sitting in jobs right now that they don’t enjoy.
In a 2024 Gallup survey measuring job engagement, meaning enthusiasm and involvement in work, they found that:
31% of U.S. employees were engaged.
52% were not.
17% were actively disengaged.
This likely means that 69% of people in the workforce were not pursuing a calling they loved, like the tailor in this story.
I can relate.
I recall working at some of my past jobs, thinking that something was missing.
Not that the job was hard or I couldn’t do it well, but it was unfulfilling.
I felt I was not doing something that I loved.
I left the job every night drained, ready to go to bed, and then come back and do it all over again.
When, however, doing something that I love, I feel the exact opposite.
I lose track of time.
I gain energy.
I do what others would consider work for free.
Why do people settle for unfulfilling jobs?
Is it a matter of confidence?
Do they think they could not find a job pursuing their passion?
Maybe they could find a job, but the job would not provide them with the life they wanted.
In The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, I remember reading that he was very interested in and skilled with the topic of natural history.
This led him to start his college studies in this field.
His father told him he could pursue this if he wanted to, but he should also consider what kind of life he wanted to live.
If he were okay living a life of low means, he could very well pursue this passion and be great at it.
However, if he did not intend to live this kind of life, he should consider something else.
Is the trade-off of doing what you love, resulting in a life of lower means, even a sacrifice?
Or is it the price of admission to a life of meaning?
It is a question worth answering before you make your next move.
Finding Your Path
For some people, pursuing what they are passionate about as a career happens naturally.
They understand their dreams early; they put in the work, and they seem to always be moving from one place to another under the spotlight of their passions.
Others likely don’t have this kind of clarity when they are younger and instead learn by trial and error.
They figure out what they don’t want so much that it leads them to what they want.
I find myself in the likes of the latter.
What are the options for the people in the latter?
Do you just walk out on your current job and start over?
Do you stick it out until you find something closer to your passion?
Or do you continue working there even though you are unhappy because it pays the bills?
The people who pursue what they are passionate about and learn at a later age are usually the ones who risk it all for the dream.
They are the ones who would rather try, fail, and rebuild than never try at all.
These are the people who take a year off from their jobs to write the book they have always dreamed of.
These are the ones who take out that large loan because they had a dream of starting a business and believe it is possible.
These are the folks who have been told that it wouldn’t work, but they do it anyway.
They have to try, or else they will regret it all their days.
The Tailor of Your Field
The lesson we learn from our tailor is to pursue the calling you are passionate about.
What would it take for you to become the tailor of your field?
Is it the price of admission to a life of meaning?