abere owo

Year

2025

Projects

A good tailor knows your size. A great tailor knows your story.

the story

Tailors play a central role in how people express identity, tradition, and personal style. It’s not just about making clothes it’s about crafting drama, suspense, and the occasional miracle with a sewing machine held together by faith and thread; especially when a customer says, “Just make it fitted” trusting the tailor to interpret both fashion trends and unspoken expectations. Between the fashionably late fittings and the epic “come back tomorrow” promises, the process is rarely linear. Tailoring is as much about style as it is about storytelling and survival.
In a small workshop filled with fabric scraps, humming machines, and the smell of hot steam from a well-worn pressing iron, magic happens daily. Conversations flow as measurements are taken — about weddings, funerals, naming ceremonies, and weekend outings. Clothes become more than outfits; they are statements, memories, and markers of time.

characters

iya isila

Iya Isila; timid, soft-spoken, and always one stitch behind. Her sewing shop is a cluttered mess of fabric and unfinished outfits, and her signature move is apologizing before you even speak. She’s easily rattled by demanding customers, often responding with a nervous laugh and “Ah, sorry o, I thought you said next week?” Tailoring, for Iya Isla, is less a profession and more a daily test of nerves, guesswork, and divine mercy.

madam eunice

Madame Eunice is the kind of woman who carries herself with quiet confidence and flair. Always impeccably dressed, she has a natural elegance and a presence that gently commands attention. Despite her dramatic flair, Madame Eunice is deeply genuine; She pays on time, praises good work loudly, and scolds bad work even louder. She’s both Iya Isla’s best customer and her greatest source of anxiety, sweeping in like a hurricane of perfume and expectations, always demanding excellence wrapped in sequins.

the workshop

Iya Isla’s shop is a cramped, sun-faded kiosk at the end of a long line of shops that includes a noisy roadside canteen and a hair braiding stall. The wooden sign above her door is barely legible, its paint peeling from years of rain and Harmattan dust. The curtain that serves as a door sway with every passing breeze, letting in rays of light and the occasional scent of fried plantain or jollof rice from next door.

Inside, the space is tight, dimly lit, and overwhelmed with clutter. A single dusty bulb hangs from a frayed wire, casting a yellow glow on everything it touches. The walls are lined with colorful fabrics draped like forgotten curtains — some gathering dust, others half-cut and pinned.

The sewing machine, a black vintage model with fading gold detailing, sits in the center like a throne, surrounded by scraps of cloth, chalk-marked patterns, and a tangle of measuring tapes. A rusted charcoal iron rests on a metal the cutting table, leaving the air warm and slightly smoky.

Threads in every color imaginable sitting on shelves, alongside calendars from years past. A cracked mirror leans awkwardly against one side, reflecting both the chaos and quiet rhythm of the space.

Occasionally, neighborhood women drop in unannounced to gossip, bring snacks, or drop off fabric with vague deadlines like “before the next naming ceremony” or “make e fine well well” The floor, filled with short pieces of clothes from fabrics that was being worked on creaks under every step, but the sewing never stops — a steady, rhythmic sound that echoes like a heartbeat through the neighborhood.

This is not just a tailor’s shop. It is a place of stories, improvisation, last-minute miracles, and cultural preservation.