My Hong Kong Tailor

He was expecting me. We had never met, but he recognized me the moment I walked in his door. Four decades of dressing executives gave him an advantage—one of his best customers had called ahead of my arrival to say I was coming. There was already a sense of who I was and what I was seeking, associating price, cut, style, all through a connected relationship--the cornerstone of his trade. Cantonese, Hindi, English, Mandarin, American, were all part of his conversation and client base spread around the globe. Friendly, engaging, professional without being sycophantic. Presenting fabric, hand, cutting, and conversation, he crafted a piece of art with durability of utility. Telepathically dedicating space for mobiles and notepads. Pockets in pockets for smartphone with a twin perfectly sized for folded currency of any country. Theater tickets at the waist. Working sleeve buttons. Teal lining. Slipped on like smooth butter. Shirts, the battle armor of modern executives, had dash and daring in their patterns, projecting confidence with a degree of conservatism, reflecting of both the boldness of a 21st century entrepreneur or a 17th century Boston seafarer in the South China Sea. Without ever mentioning it, the placement of a conversation starter stitched in imperial red: my Chinese character name on the left cuff. Consummate artist and professional, Ash Samtani, Hong Kong tailor.