"You lied to me that you could sew. This is absolute rubbish!"
These words kept ringing in my head. They were difficult to forget. I had spent months trying to understand a skill that wasn't my first choice, and now standing before an unsatisfied customer, I was beginning to wonder whether all the efforts I had put in was a waste of time.
Tailoring wasn't my first choice, it wasn't part of the future that I imagined for myself. I was more interested in technical work and had other ambitions. But circumstances had other plans. So when the opportunity came, I knew I had little choice but to take it.
My journey into learning the trade started at a local workshop. I went there every morning with a quiet sense of resentment, wishing I was sitting in front of a computer screen instead. My boss didn't make the transition easy as well
She expected me to master the skill just within a few months of arrival because apparently someone else did. She expected that I master complex measurements and intricate stitches instantly, simply by watching her hands or observing the senior apprentices who had been there for years. Whenever I struggled, her voice would cut through the workshop.
"Are you slow? Why can't you just look and catch it?" she would snap, shaking her head in disappointment.
I didn't know how to tell her that I was doing my best and that I just can't understand most things on my own.
Well I tried my best to prove her wrong. Though it was not easy too because I had to go home and hour and thirty minutes earlier than the others because that is what I was instructed by people I lived with. I even bought my own fabrics, I purchased yards of ankara and cotton to test patterns at home.
But the problem was every time I finished a piece, someone had a critique.
The people I expected to encourage me instead pointed out every crooked hem and uneven seam. Their words made me feel small and discouraged, as if I was running a race where the finish line kept moving further away.
Then came the climax of my frustration. My first paying customer came after a year of training. Eager to prove myself, I had sewn a short and a jumpsuit. When she tried it on, the shirt was ok, but the fit of the jumpsuit was off, the lap area was too tight on her.
Her harsh insults stung worse than my boss's reprimands. Holding the poorly made garment in my hands, I stood frozen in embarrassment and seriously considered dropping the scissors forever. I concluded that I couldn't get anything done right!
Walking away would have been easy, but deep down, a stubborn voice reminded me of the time and energy I had already invested. I refused to let those difficult months amount to nothing. I started searching for another way forward, diving into tutorials online, studying how professional tailors handled fabric manipulation, and practicing precision cutting over and over again.
Then one day I looked at the clothes I was wearing, it was a hoodie I bought and I was wondering why they never teach these type of clothing in Nigerian workshops.
And later while exploring different styles online, I stumbled upon the vibrant world of streetwear. The boxy fits, bold graphic designs, and relaxed aesthetics of hoodies, oversized tees, and cargo joggers immediately captured my attention. Next I got a job at a store and there they made T-shirts and trousers including cargo, so I was part of the people that was sewing for them after they first showed me how aims part is done. My interest in streetwear grew further.
This wasn't the traditional tailoring that had frustrated me for months, it felt modern, creative, and closer to the dynamic, structured world I had always envisioned for myself.
With this I payed 50k for an online streetwear course that I stumbled upon. It was a prerecorded course and it was exactly what I wanted. They even helped me discover where to get those type of materials
When I finally finished my first decent hoodie and a pair of matching joggers for my elder sis and I. We wore them out. Friends noticed immediately, asking where we got them. When I told them I made them myself, the surprise on their faces turned into requests. Soon, I was making pieces for friends, family, and even carrying inventory to local markets.
To me I felt achieving some level of success even though I wasn't perfect yet and there are some customers that still criticise but yea that is part of life. I try my best to keep improving because that's one thing there's always room for.
Today I'm a computer science student and I also haven't abandoned my sewing. I still make beautiful pieces while still studying tech and understanding things.
Although balancing both hasn't always been easy. There are days when I feel proud of what I have created, and other days when unsold clothes and difficult orders make me question whether I should continue. Sometimes I wonder if I will still have the patience for this work as I grow older. I don't know if tailoring will ever become the business I once hoped it could be, or if it will simply remain a skill I carry with me.
What I know is that I have come a long way from the girl who sat in a workshop wishing she were somewhere else. I never planned to become a tailor, and I still haven't figured out what place sewing will have in my future. But perhaps not every skill we acquire has to become our life's work. Some experiences simply become part of our story, even when we are not sure what to do with them next.
Cover image taken by me and edited with chatgpt