Inside the Mind of a Nigerian Tailor who won’t stop lying anytime soon

In this story, *Gaffar, a Lagos-based fashion designer, shares why he believes that sometimes, lying is not only necessary; it’s a survival skill in the fashion industry. From working under a seasoned tailor in Idi-Araba to running his own shop, he’s had to master the delicate art of telling white lies to navigate customer pressure and prioritise peace of mind.

This is his unapologetic confession.

A customer once cried in my shop and said, “If you disappoint me, God will punish you.” She claimed her sister’s wedding was in two days, begged me to put everything else on hold, and even offered me an extra ₦5k.

I didn’t sleep that night. I cancelled my plans. I worked like a madman to finish her dress. A week later, I saw her post the outfit on Instagram — two weeks before the actual wedding. That was the day I stopped feeling guilty about lying to customers. If you’ve never lied to a customer, you’ve probably only sewn for your siblings.

Tailoring in Nigeria is half craft, half crisis management

My name is *Gaffar. I’m a fashion designer based in Lagos, and yes, I lie to customers sometimes. Not because I’m trying to scam them, but because it’s the only way to survive in this business. I learnt that early, when I was still training under my boss in Idi-Araba. He wasn’t just good at his job, he was also a streetwise tailor who told me, “If you’re always honest in this work, customers will finish you.” And he was right.

The average Nigerian customer will lie to you without blinking. They’ll tell you their event is on Saturday just to make you prioritise them, meanwhile, it’s two Saturdays away. Or worse, they’ll say, “It’s just a simple style,” then bring fabric that needs lining, boning and stones. If you don’t learn to lie back strategically, you’ll end up rushing for people who don’t deserve the rush, and disappointing the ones who actually told the truth.

Yes, I’ve disappointed people. But they’re not always innocent

I won’t pretend I’ve never missed a deadline. Of course I have. Every tailor has;  even the so-called “premium” ones with Instagram pages and steamer irons. But half the time, the customers who scream the loudest are the ones who weren’t even honest in the first place.

One time, a customer stormed my shop and created a full-blown scene. She was shouting, “You’re a disgrace! You’ll lose customers like this!” All because her dress wasn’t ready. But the original collection date was still two days away. She’d lied about an earlier pickup just to pressure me.

I gave her the cloth the very next day. And guess what? She didn’t even apologise for the scene. People like to act like they’re always victims. But most customers are playing their own game too.

Some lies are for peace of mind, not wickedness

I lie because I want to do good work, not because I’m trying to cheat anybody.

Sometimes, I’ll tell a customer, “I just need to attach the zip,” when in reality, I haven’t even cut the fabric. Why? Because the power went out, the fabric market guy delayed delivery, or my apprentice ruined a stitch and I had to redo it quietly. Should I tell the customer all of that? They won’t care. They’ll still ask, “So when will it be ready?”

I lie because I want to buy myself time to do a clean job. I lie so I don’t explode from the pressure of being everybody’s personal emergency tailor. The people who shout “Tailors are liars!” don’t know what it means to juggle 20 customers, five urgent deliveries, one spoilt machine and no light — all while trying to focus on design.

Sometimes, a tiny lie is the difference between peace of mind and a mental breakdown.

Yes, I teach my apprentice to lie, but with wisdom

When I took in my current apprentice, I didn’t just teach her how to cut patterns or thread a machine. I taught her how to handle customers. One of her first clients brought fabric and said, “Please, I need it in two days.” My girl looked confused. I whispered, “Tell him it’ll be ready.”

She looked at me like I was suggesting fraud. But the truth is, I knew the man didn’t need the outfit until another three weeks because some other customers attending the same event already told me the date. It’s not about deception. It’s about protecting your process and keeping the business running.

If she doesn’t learn how to say the right thing at the right time, she’ll either burn out or lose clients who don’t even know what they want.

But I’ll admit, one lie still haunts me

There was a time I told a woman her cloth wasn’t ready because “the zip had an issue.” The truth? I hadn’t started.

She broke down crying. Said her mother had died that morning, and she just wanted something decent to wear for the burial. The cloth was for that purpose.

That day, I refunded her immediately. I didn’t care about profit. I couldn’t look her in the eye. And I haven’t forgotten her face since. So no, I don’t lie every time. And when I do, I try to make sure it’s not going to cause harm. But I’ll still defend the right to lie occasionally — especially when it’s a matter of survival.

I’m a tailor, not a magician. I won’t apologise for surviving

In a perfect world, I’d always deliver early. There’d always be power. Every customer would be truthful. But this is Lagos. And Lagos no dey run on honesty alone. Lying, for me, is not a flaw. It’s a strategy. A skill. A necessary part of tailoring that no one puts in the job description.

If you want a tailor that never lies, sew with your family.