If you’ve ever lived in Nigeria long enough, you’ve either been a victim of a tailor’s betrayal or you know someone who has. It’s almost a rite of passage — a painful, sometimes hilarious experience that binds us as Nigerians. From weddings to birthdays, from church thanksgiving to naming ceremonies, there’s always that one tailor who promises heaven and earth but ends up sewing disappointment instead of clothes.
It’s as if somewhere in the tailors’ handbook, there’s an unwritten rule that says, “Thou shalt not deliver clothes on time.😂😂”
Kunle’s Case: The Wedding Introduction Disaster
Take Kunle, for instance. My guy was bubbling with excitement — it was his introduction day, the traditional event where the families of the bride and groom formally meet. In Yoruba culture, this is not a small matter. It’s a day of pride, family honor, and of course, drip. The agbada must be loud enough to announce, “Yes, I’ve arrived!” even before you step into the compound.
Kunle had given his tailor, let’s call him Boda Seyi, (an egbon adugbo – a neighbourhood brother) enough time — almost five weeks — to sew his agbada, trousers, and cap. He paid in full, even tipped the man in advance to “motivate” him. You know, just to avoid stories that touch.
But as D-day approached, communication with Seyi started sounding like a broken radio.
“Bro, abeg, hope my cloth go ready before Saturday?” Kunle asked midweek.
Seyi replied confidently, “Ah, bros, no wahala. I don finish am sef. Na just small finishing remain.”
That “small finishing” turned out to be no cutting, no sewing, no lining — nothing! Friday night came, no call from the tailor. Saturday morning came, still silence. Kunle’s introduction was by noon. By 10 a.m., desperation had set in.
When he finally reached Seyi on phone, the man had the audacity to say, “Ah, oga, na small issue remain o. The machine spoil small, but I go finish am today.”
Today? On the day of his introduction?
Kunle almost fainted.
At that point, he had to rush to a nearby boutique to buy emergency native wear. It wasn’t part of the planned color code — his agbada was supposed to be royal blue with a silver cap, but he ended up with a sky-blue kaftan that looked like a different wedding entirely. His bride-to-be, decked in the agreed royal blue lace, looked at him like, “Who is this one?”
They ended up looking like two guests who mistakenly showed up at the same event — not the couple being celebrated.
Till today, Kunle says he’s still nursing the emotional trauma from that experience. But like most Nigerians, he’s forgiven Seyi (though he swears he’ll never use him again). Whether he will keep that promise, only time will tell.
Pastor’s Tale: The Thanksgiving That Almost Became a Sad Story
Now let’s move to my street, where there’s a certain tailor named Taju — a man whose mouth is faster than his needle.
Taju is one of those tailors who can confidently promise to sew ten agbadas in a night, even when the only machine in his shop squeaks louder than a rat trap. Everyone on the street knows him for his trademark line: “Don’t worry, I’ve almost finished it.”
One Saturday evening, around 8 p.m., a well-respected pastor came by to pick up his agbada. He had a big Thanksgiving service the next morning — a day he’d been planning for months. According to him, it was not just any thanksgiving; it was the grand “40 years in ministry” celebration. Guests were coming from all over. The outfit had to command presence.
When the pastor entered the shop, Taju greeted him warmly.
“Daddy, welcome o! Your agbada don ready finish. Just small ironing remain.”
Pastor smiled in relief. “Ah, thank you, my son. Let me wait for you to finish it.”
That’s when Taju started sweating. The fabric hadn’t even been cut.
You read that right. Not. Even. Cut.
Apparently, Taju had spent the day running errands and attending another customer’s naming ceremony. He had forgotten completely about the pastor’s outfit.
When the pastor insisted on waiting, Taju panicked. He dashed to the back of his shop, grabbed the untouched fabric, and started cutting like a man possessed. But you know tailoring — it’s not a one-hour job, especially not agbada. At some point, Taju’s apprentice whispered, “Oga, this one no go finish today o.”
By midnight, Taju had cut the fabric but hadn’t joined a single piece. The pastor eventually left in frustration, muttering prayers that sounded suspiciously like curses.
The next day, the man wore an old agbada from years back to his thanksgiving — one that was visibly faded around the collar. But guess who still showed up to the service smiling as if nothing happened? Yes, Taju. Sitting proudly at the back with his tape measure hanging around his neck.
The Tailor–Customer Relationship: A National Tragedy
Stories like Kunle’s and Pastor’s are not isolated. Every Nigerian has a tailor story. It’s like mosquitoes in rainy season — no one escapes it.
Sometimes, it’s not even about big occasions. It could be as simple as giving your tailor a shirt to amend or trousers to slim-fit. You’ll hear, “Come next week Tuesday.” You show up the next week, and the tailor suddenly develops amnesia.
“Ah, madam, remind me again, which cloth be your own?”
Or worse, “Ah, I no fit find am again o, but no worry, I go sew another one for you.”
It’s so bad that many Nigerians now have a mental rule: When your tailor says ‘two weeks,’ interpret it as ‘two months.’
But why are Naija tailors like this? Why is time such an alien concept in their profession?
Behind the Delays: The Reality of the Trade
To be fair, not all tailors are demons in disguise. Many of them face real challenges that most customers don’t see.
- Overbooking:
Tailors, especially during festive seasons, often take more jobs than they can handle. They fear saying no because, in Nigeria, customers can easily run to the next tailor on the block. So, they keep collecting jobs until their workshop looks like a fabric museum. - Poor Planning and Time Management:
Many tailors don’t have structured work systems. There’s no proper calendar, no task tracking — just vibes and needles. When they promise delivery dates, it’s based on hope, not schedule. - Equipment Failure:
Light issues (thanks to NEPA), broken machines, and lack of skilled apprentices contribute to delays. Some tailors literally sew with one hand on the machine and the other holding a candlelight. - Customer Pressure:
Customers are not entirely innocent. Some bring fabrics late but expect same-day miracles. “Abeg, my party na tomorrow, I go pay double.” The tailor, driven by greed or guilt, accepts — and then fails woefully.
Still, none of these excuses justify the heartbreaks they cause. There’s something sacred about trusting someone with your big-day outfit — and when they fail, it feels personal.