Adorable Old Russian Seamstress Mounts Cynical PR Campaign, I Am Sad

05/12/2009 11:33 AM |

Last issue, our lovely fashion columnist Laurel Pinson put a call out for tips on the city’s best, fastest, most reliable old pros for alterations. We waited a day or two, and then what should appear in the ol’ inbox, but an earnest little note from an excited reader recommending REDACTED, telling us “…This charming Russian lady, originally from St. Petersburg… is accommodating to “rush Jobs” and has NEVER disappointed.” Great, thought Laurel and I, You ask, and the city responds…

The next day, another email appeared, telling us:

She is great. She always finds perfect and complimentary design or small changes to make my dresses work perfect. She always says if in her opinion nothing should to be done or does not worth it.

Ok, great. A little weird, but wow, how about that REDACTED, right? Well…Later that day:

You said how hard it was to find a good taylor [sic]. Well, all I can say I’ve found the best one, she’s more than a taylor [sic]. She’s a dress designer who had gone to Fashion School in St. Pertersburg [sic], Russia. She’s absolutely incredible in her craft.

And the next: “I have been looking for a long time for a good tailor, and I was so lucky to find her.”

A few more have come in, but none as awful as this one, which may have been written by actual PR computer software:

Hello there. I have some lovely news for you. I don’t whisper. Lately I’ve become a lover of fashion. No more jeans and t shirts for me. After visiting Italy (where even the trash collectors are chic) I decided to find my style. The 40’s always beckon me so dresses and pencil skirts it is. I have found a real treasure in REDACTED.

Ew. Also, gross. We got another one today, and I’d just like to say, if you’re out there nice old Russian tailor lady (your name rhymes with Bolga Boussakova), please stop asking your semi-literate friends to send us tips about you. This isn’t a contest. We’re not tallying votes. Though if the New York Times is to be believed, this may be what happens to a dying industry.