The Ill-fitted Brown Suit
My style has always lived somewhere between boho chic and casual. I love flowy dresses, big earrings, denim and soft fabrics… but I also have a deep appreciation for a good suit. Not the stiff, corporate, formal kind — but the kind that feels relaxed, and slightly oversized.
Finding that kind of suit in Senegal has been a struggle. Over the years, it’s been the same story on repeat: either my size doesn’t exist, or the price does not respect my bank account. So I’ve done what many of us do — I mix and match separates, or I go to my tailor. My tailor can make a beautiful jacket, but for some mysterious reason, he always makes them snug. When I complained, he once told me, very confidently, that this was “the trend.” Maybe. But I like my blazer fitted, not corset tight. After two disappointing attempts, I stopped asking him for suits.
Then one day, scrolling as one does, I saw a local brand advertising a suit. Double-breasted look (but only one button), wide-leg trousers, and dreamy colours — brown, pastel pink, green. I ordered the brown one immediately, sent my measurements, and waited like a hopeful fashion romantic.
Two days later, it arrived. I tried it on. AndI was instantly disappointed. The blazer was tight in the back, loose on the sides. The trousers were tight at the waist and too short. This was not what I pictured when ordering the suit. The fabric and the colours are the only things I liked about the garment.
Usually, when I order online, I don’t bother returning things for alterations — my tailor can fix almost anything. But this time, I had to go back. I went to the shop and spoke to their tailor, who gave me a very creative explanation for why the blazer fit so badly. Apparently, I was not supposed to tie it from the inside. "Then what are the ties for, sir?" I almost screamed. Rather, I stayed calm and smiled. I explained what I wanted, and I left. Three days later, they returned it to me, “fixed.” Let’s just say the improvement was very subtle. However, the suit fitted me better this time.
Honestly, I have yet to see a Senegalese brand that really gets suits right. The suit's brand specialises in flowy dresses and boubous. I purchased a dress from them three years prior, for Eid. It was beautiful, colourful, and well-made. This is the first time I've seen them attempting to make a suit. Most of the local brands I patronise rarely make structured garments. And I think I know why: most tailors here don’t use patterns. They cut directly on the fabric, freestyle, guided by experience and intuition. That’s how they were taught. I get it. But a suit is not a boubou. It is not a kaftan. It is architecture.
When I studied fashion design in India, I learned pattern making — and I hated every minute of it. Partly because my teacher didn’t speak English, so my friend had to translate. A lot got lost. Mostly because pattern making involves maths. And maths and I have never been friends. Still, patterns are lifesavers. When I sew for myself and skip them, I immediately see the difference. Things don’t sit right. Proportions go rogue.
If you want to be a serious fashion house and make garments consistently, especially structured ones like suits, you need your own patterns. You cannot freestyle a blazer and hope for the best. And if you do not have the knowledge to make your own patterns, you can always purchase some and alter them. I grew up seeing sewing magazines with attached patterns for people sewing as a hobby. Those magazines still exist. Moreover, you can also purchase professional patterns online.
Nevertheless, I bought the suit. It is mine now. I will make the best of it. I will style it. I have work events coming up, and this brown suit will see daylight. Also, after two years of searching, I finally have the brown trousers I wanted.
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