For a number of years Linda and I travelled to and from Europe with a stopover in Hong Kong.  Apart from the incredible food, one of the attractions of that city is a wonderful tailor.  Jim’s Tailor Workshop is owned by a bespoke tailor who is always highly recommended by the expat community.  The workers he employs all proudly wear the red prancing horse badge on their left lapel – given only to master craftsmen. The cloth is the best in the world – fine Italian wool, heavier British or German cloths, Egyptian cotton, Japanese silks, and their garments are always reasonably priced, especially given the quality of each piece .  We went a number of times to have the some of my favourite items of clothing sewn – suits, shirts, trousers.   Yet still I always found it awful to enter that shop because of one man. Henry.

Henry works front of house and is responsible for all measurements. I don’t think he has Aspergers, it is unlikely that he has been injected with truth serum or has been hypnotised – the brutality of his language probably arises from English being just one of the many languages he speaks apart from his native dialect.  But in any case he lacks anything even remotely similar to the kindness of subtlety.

Linda would always get the same response from Henry when being measured – “Miss Linda, hip same as last time.” or “Miss Linda – stomach same as last time.”  Then it would be my turn.

Henry would take out his tape and start to make funny clicking sounds as he measured various body parts.  He would look at his notes, sip tea or pick at some noodles, measure again then make huffing sounds and write down some mandarin characters.  After that the comments would start:

‘Your neck still very fat’
Polite embarrassed smile from Rossco.

“Your chest same as last time – but more fat under arms now.” 
‘Yep, thanks for that Henry’

” You so short  – but your stomach very fat”
  “That’s quite enough thanks Henry”

“You have skinny hip, no muscle, but big, fat stomach. ‘
“Be quiet now Henry!

‘You have bandy legs – probably from big fat stomach – hehehe’ 
‘WHY DON’T YOU JUST SHUT YOUR STUPID GOB HENRY!!!”

I would always leave Jim’s Custom Tailors carrying beautiful hand sewn clothing but feeling like a sideshow freak. Linda would leave giggling and with a knowing smile,  Henry would be left making those clicking and huffing sounds as he wrote the new measurements on my file.  The whole process would have to be repeated 3 days later with the canvas patten, then 4 weeks later again with the finished product.  And always the same observations about my body from Hong Kong’s Mr Diplomacy – Henry and his bloody tape measure.

I love Hong Kong.  I love the food, I love the clothes I love the Harbour  – but my God,  I hate Henry with passion.

Sort of pleased we’re going to Europe via Dubai this time – just for my own healing, but still very fragile ego.

Ross