This was not a pleasant experience.
Franklin and his wife both work out of the family residence. The tailor "office" is divided by one door with access to the kitchen.
I brought two Brooks Brothers suits to Franklin to adjust the length of the arms and the pants. He fixed the jacket nicely, and I have no complaints about that.
However, the pants were another story. Franklin's wife took measurements of both pant legs, and I was told to come back in a few days, which I did. When they brought them out, I noticed that they used a string color different than the pants and I the stitches were very noticeable from the outside of the pant legs. I asked politely that he fixed the job, and he told me to go back two days later.
When I returned, his wife was absolutely rude. She lead me to the "office," eating a toston on one hand, finished eating, and then grabbed the pants with both greasy hands and attempted to roll them into a plastic shopping bag. The "office" door to the kitchen was wide open and, although it smelled like pretty good latin food, my clothes reeked with it. She was definetely in a hurry. Since I had had a bad experience with them already, I tried to inspect the pants before leaving, but she insisted that I put the pants into the plastic bag. I did. After all, I was at their home and it seemed like she wanted me to leave ASAP.
I took the pants and, after putting them on, noticed that not only was one leg about inch and a half shorter than the other but also that the leg cut was not horizontal; it was slanted. Absolutely butchered.
So I took the pants back to Franklin. His wife and him insisted that I was confused, that the mismatch of the pant legs' length was due to the fact that my left leg was shorter than the right, and that the slanted cut was because of "the break" that I told him I wanted. They confused the hell out of me. All my pant legs are the same length, I have never been diagnosed with having a short leg (lol), and I never understood what the "break" was and how it involved having a butchered slanted cut, instead of a nice, smooth straight cut across the pant leg.
In the beginning, it was funny. But neither Franklin nor his wife--specially not his wife--have a very good grasp on proper customer service. It was unreal how they could not see what was visibly wrong with the work they did on the pants. Franklin later apologized for his harsh choice of words and blamed it on his childhood experiences and how he used to threatened black kids with stabbing them when he was a kid himself.
So I took the pants back and decided to wear them with my dress shoes to take a closer look; hell, maybe I did have a shorter leg. But no. While the left pant leg reached down to my shoe's second row of laces, the right one reached down to the third one from the bottom up; making the difference in length very noticeable.
So I took the pants back to Franklin with specific instructions and, thankfully, he took them in. About four or five days later, he called me to go pick them up. This time, both him and his wife were over-the-top nice, which seemed not genuine after giving me hell for asking them to fix the pants the last time.
At the end, they gave me back the pants. Although they remained visibly flawed, they do the trick at a distance. Yet, it took them over 3 weeks to get the job right and the whole experience was very uncomfortable and I ran the risk of ruining my brand new pants.
I would not risk taking another nice suit to this place. This is just another one of those places in Miami where, when things go south, you should expect harsh treatment and zero customer service or professionalism. read more
