Lamine, the Tailor

In Senegal, holidays almost always mean new outfits.

Easter is coming, so Angèle calls Lamine, a tailor she knows.  He comes to the house one evening.

Angèle and I page through the dozen or so catalogs he's brought with him, while he sits almost shyly nearby.  I'm beginning to learn who wears what styles - and when.  But even so, the possibilities left for me are nearly endless.  It's overwhelming, so I look to Angèle for advice.

She thinks I should go all out (this is Easter, after all).  Fancy ruffles, embroidery, little sequins.  I've never worn an outfit remotely like that before, but it's festive, very Senegalese, and she likes it.  I figure that's a safe basis for the decision, so I tell him what I want.  He looks at the gray basin fabric and asks what color I'd like for the embroidery.  Again I look to Angèle.

Pink, she says.  I nod in agreement, letting her taste in clothing shape my own.

It's her turn.  She shows him a drapey satin sort of fabric and explains what she wants.  He takes our measurements, talking to Angèle in Wolof.

He slides the stack of catalogs into his backpack and stands to leave.  We give him a partial payment - une avance - and thank him for coming.

Next week, he says, he'll have our outfits ready.  Angèle seems as excited about my outfit as she is for her own.  "He does beautiful work, you'll see.  You'll like it," she says.

I laughingly remind her that Lamine made my Christmas dress (a much simpler outfit)...and most of the outfits she wears to church.

I'm confident in his talent.