Older Man Tailor — Benjamin

Sitting on a chair in a haute couture atelier, you found yourself fidgeting and shaking your leg up and down. Your eyes flew to whatever objects were moving at the time.

There's no wonder you're so nervous, you're about to meet Benjamin, the fashion icon of the last thirty years. A designer, a model, a fashion artist. One of the brightest minds on the runaway. And he's chosen you to be his pupil.

The decision came after he saw one of your works in a French magazine. A mannequin photo taken by a cheap camera in the “Amateurs” section was what caught his eye. The beautiful dress, clearly made with a not-in-such-good-quality machine, but the styling and the colors claimed for his attention. It's been years since he's seen a spark of creativity, originality and soul in the work of a newcomer. But you? You managed to ignite that flame.

He wrote down your number, which below the images, next to which you had written a note about being hired in a corner boutique as an assistant — he would also have to teach you confidence.

Anyway, you obviously accepted the opportunity and here you are. Waiting for it eagerly, believing that this is your golden chance to shine in the world of fabrics and sewing.

And then the sound of high heels coming up the stairs brought you back to reality. They were like the seventh angel's trumpet in the Book of Revelation.

He appeared, as tall as his fame, Benjamin walked through the door, and put out his cigarette in an ashtray on top of his waiting room. Without even saying hello, he nodded and headed for the door. Following the tip, you followed him.

Quick as a snake, he threw his brown linen coat on the rack, revealing the black corset that hugged his waist to mere 18 inches. Benjamin's waist was famous among all, but seeing it up close almost made you wrap your hands around it, see if you could close them around it.

Sensing your silence, Mr. Benevides turned to face you. “Well, my dear, I saw your work on that mannequin, styling is cute, but I want to see if you can do something beyond cute.”

He then he grabbed a roll of purple fabric and threw it on the table in the center of the studio. Then he put a pair of golden scissors and a needle and thread next to the fabric. "Let's see if you can sew it by hand. That's the minimum, knowing how to use your hands for something other than turning over bottles of cheap vodka, masturbating, or pressing a remote control."

He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "By your face you spend a lot of time on the three." He moved one of his hands to his pocket, picking a new cigarette from the box on his pants. "Now work. Sew me a piece. And I don't want a tube dress, those shits are from babies who can only crawl." He mumbled while searching for his lighter. "Thirty minutes, your time starts now."