The Relapse of an Indian Tailor Addict

After years of hearing about the glories of his wares, listening to stories of his famous clientele, and reaping the benefits of others' visits, I finally stepped foot in Grover Cloth and Tailoring House in Khan Market on Saturday afternoon.

For those unfamiliar with my previous stint in India from October 2004 to April 2005, I had made a near weekly trip to a tailor, Kumar Brothers, located in South Extension in Delhi. So infamous were these trips that my fellow expat work colleagues at the time joked that Lindsay and I had singlehandedly paid for the installation of air conditioning in their small shop. I'm honestly not sure if they were joking and couldn't argue the validity of their claim. The final tally of garments from Kumar was staggering: 30+ shirts, 10 dress pants, 5 suits, and 2 sport coats.

Saturday's visit to Grover was my first step inside a tailor in nearly six years. I quickly felt like a recovering alcoholic abruptly thrust off the wagon. As a recovering tailor addict, you can't imagine the urge to simply pull bolts of fabric from the shelves and bark orders about wanting a dress shirt with French cuffs in this fabric and a shirt with the collar and cuffs set on a diagonal in another fabric. Thankfully, we had a visiting friend, Paul, along whose sole purpose was to restock his wardrobe so I didn't feel quite the need to purchase (as much).

While Paul certainly gained preferred customer status, I stayed conservative selecting just a few shirts and couple pairs of pants. You know you're an addict when you consider yourself conservative by selecting six shirts and two pairs of pants while constantly scanning the bolts lining the wall for a fabric you may have missed.

Paul displays the unbridled joy of his maiden tailor visit

When filling out the order form and still scanning for more shirts, I wasn't ready for the sticker shock of Grover's prices. My price baseline was formulated from the 2005 experience as well Naresh, the tailor we've found that makes house calls (I never said I had quit the whole tailor thing cold-turkey; just said I hadn't stepped foot inside a tailor). Apparently, when you can boast of having Bill Clinton and Tony Blair as clients (quick aside, they don't actually boast of this, it was a rumor we had heard that I verified in a Delhi commerce promotional book published in preparation for the Commonwealth Games that features Grover), you can extract a pricing premium. That, and their fabric is basically the same stuff that the Italian designers use.

However, the price of a linen shirt I had selected (Rs. 4200!) was borderline insulting considering my man Naresh stitches together a linen shirt for around Rs. 700. Granted, the fabrics were nicer, but six times nicer? I took a pass on that shirt but not before semi-playfully trying to bargain down the prices on the other items. After seeing the price of the pants (apparently, I had selected his nicest fabric), I decided to take a pass (temporarily, at least) there as well. Apparently, Lindsay thought my bargaining was bordering on insulting and she pulled me away from the counter so as to not upset them too much as Paul still hadn't begun the process and had far more at stake.

Even with the pricing surprise, I had forgotten the joy of visiting the tailor. Thankfully, the shop is a good 35 - 40 minute drive from the apartment so it's not an every weekend kind of place (though we did find time to go back before brunch today for a quick fitting). Unfortunately, clothes here take a beating in the laundry so I may need to wait until we near the conclusion of our assignment before getting too much more made; however, the expectations surrounding Grover were exceeded and the myths confirmed. The man cuts a good shirt.

The New Tailor Revisited

On Sunday afternoon, the new tailor made his return house call to the apartment with his finished goods. My first impression is that he does a nice job with the clothes but doesn't pay attention to some of the details, which may not bode well for some of our future purchases. When tallying our total, he completely forgot to add two shirts that we had had made for a co-worker (note, Lindsay used this to her advantage when negotiating the final price) and she was fairly certain that he made one of the co-worker's shirts out of a different fabric. While the fabric selected was nice and this co-worker will never know (unless she's reading this post), just a reminder that we will need to be fairly explicit and write down what we've purchased going forward. It's not that he tried to substitute a cheaper fabric; it was an entirely different pattern and color. Our previous tailors had never bargained so what follows was a new experience. In general, his offer price on shirts seemed quite reasonable (INR 700 - 800) but his price on skirts and pants seemed expensive (INR 1200 - 1600 in general and up to INR 2300 for the silk....and yes, Lindsay acted insulted when he expect she pay the equivalent of $50 for a silk skirt). For the following list of clothing (not including the missing pieces), his initial offer price was INR 9900 (approximately $215):

• 2 - Women's linen skirts
• 1 - Women's silk skirt
• 1 - Women's short sleeve shirt (copy of Ann Taylor)
• 2 - Men's long-sleeved linen shirts
• 1 - Men's short-sleeve linen shirt
• 1 - Men's linen pants

Lindsay gently reminded him of the fact that he had forgotten two pieces and slowly got him to come down in price. We ended at INR 8400 (approximately $182) for our items. While I'm sure we overpaid to some extent, he made the mistake of mentioning that linen is more expensive than cotton, so we have some leverage and basis for comparison when the need for new dress shirts arises in the not too distant future. The clothing he brought seemed good enough and he did a very nice job with Lindsay's clothing, something that has been a struggle in the past (not anything to do with Lindsay specifically, the tailors we've found just seem to do a much better job with menswear). We placed another small order which he'll bring back next Sunday (hopefully this does not become a part of our weekend routine), most of which is linen. And yes, I recognize how ridiculous all this linen will be when back in Chicago. I may end up looking like Panama Jack, but there are still two very full summers to sweat through here.

The New Tailor

If you’ve had a conversation with me at any point over the past six years and the topic of India has come up, there’s a better than average chance I’ve spoken of the ridiculous amounts of custom tailored clothing I’ve had made here. Unfortunately, I have heard rumors that my original tailor, Kumar Brothers, located at South Extension I in Delhi has ceased operations. The secondary tailor, Grover’s, who is rumored to be Bill Clinton’s tailor, has somewhat priced himself out of the market, which you might expect from someone that can claim Bill Clinton as a customer. Regardless, living in Gurgaon rather than Delhi makes either option less convenient. Thankfully, I hadn’t been worried as I didn’t feel the need (or “want”) for additional clothing. Then two things happened: first, we had our first visitor from work that wanted clothing made and second, the temperature increased to the point where I felt a few additional items made from linen might be necessary in the wardrobe.

Thanks to a co-worker, Lindsay had been made aware of a new tailor, Naresh, with a special hook; he makes house calls, thus enabling the lazy expatriates to add “tailor that makes house calls” to the list of privileges that will need to be weaned from when the time comes to leave India. In the meantime, I plan to take full advantage. If this guy is good, I shudder to imagine the damage that may ensue between now and the end of 2011.

My first impression of Naresh wasn’t necessarily a positive one. He was 30 minutes late which seemed a small nuisance since I would have spent that much more time than if I was required to move myself to and from a retail establishment. Initially, I gave him the benefit of the doubt thinking that he may have had issues finding our apartment; however, when he mentioned he had a customer on the seventh floor in our building, this hypothesis was immediately discarded.

On the positive side, he seemed to pick up on my not-so-subtle hint that if he made clothes that we liked, were high quality, and gave us a fair price that we’d enjoy a mutually beneficial relationship for months to come. Of course, he refused to give us a price, simply implying that we’d deal with such inconsequential matters when he returns next Sunday with the finished goods. At least we know some semblance of how the guy operates based on co-workers interactions and know that he’s open to bargaining (typically in the 10 – 30% range from his initial offer). Of course, since all the financial risk rests with him (i.e., we haven’t given him so much as a rupee) and he’s coming with the finished product, I may actually have leverage in this situation. The only potential risk? Keeping the traditional exuberant reaction in check from Lindsay when she sees something she really “needs”.