Judy Perkins put an announcement on social media advertising her skill and experience with alterations. I gave her a call and almost immediately found myself gathering a bag of back-of-the-closet clothes and heading to her home. We were greeted at the door by new faces and beckoned in, like we were old friends or weary travelers, like it was a Sunday afternoon and not a Wednesday.

Allen began chatting with my 5-year-old son, Winnie, and my 7-year-old daughter, Mable, joined Judy and I in the kitchen, where Judy had me standing in front of a mirror, pinning my vest.

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