A Day at the Tailor’s

These are the things I sometimes miss about Colombia!

My (Former) Nomad Life

Because I have only one pair of pants that currently fits me (despite my recent frappaccino craze), yesterday afternoon I hit the backstreets behind my apartment in search of a tailor. I unfortunately can’t afford to buy all-new pants so I must do what the rest of the world does: Get things fixed when they stop working. Very un-American of me. Anyway, being Hispanic, I like my pants to be so tight I have to lay down to zip them, and the thought of walking around with huge, clown-looking pants is too much to bear.

My search was rather short; within five minutes, me and my pants-stuffed Colombian mochila found ourselves at the steps of a certain Mr. Valasquez, the “clinical tailor” offering “everything from treatment to surgery of clothing.”

Mr. Valaszuez’s shop is located on 20th and 4th, a somewhat dilapidated, graffitied and seedy street characterized by an unavoidable…

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