Over the past two decades, the cost of producing garments has plummeted dramatically. With fast-fashion giants like H&M and Zara offering trendy clothing for less than $5, it’s no surprise that people hesitate to spend extra money on buying fabric and then paying a tailor to stitch it. After all, why invest in a bespoke outfit when a mass-produced alternative is available at a fraction of the cost? From an economic standpoint, that argument seems valid—at least on the surface.

Yes, it’s true that you can walk into a brand outlet or browse a China-based online platform and find clothing at unbelievably low prices. But here’s the catch: price isn’t everything. There are countless reasons why tailor-made clothes—whether you sew them yourself or have them stitched—are far superior to ready-made garments. These reasons range from quality and durability to environmental impact, and I’ll dive deeper into those aspects in the coming chapters. However, today, let’s focus on one of the most fundamental and often overlooked reasons: Size.

Why Size Matters More Than You Think

Customized clothing is based on your measurements. It’s designed to fit your body—not some imaginary “standard” body that garment manufacturers assume we all have. Let’s be honest: very few of us have perfectly proportioned bodies, although brands would love us to believe that (and , we’d love to believe it too!).

Mass-produced garments follow standardized measurement charts. You’ve seen those little tags at the back of your clothes—S, M, L or numeric sizes like 6, 8, 10—alongside the brand label. These are the size categories brands adhere to. But here’s the problem: your upper body might fit a size 6 or 8, while your lower body could be closer to a 10 or 12—or vice versa. This mismatch is incredibly common and explains why so many people end up visiting alteration shops after buying clothes off the rack. In fact, the surge in alteration services is proof that “standard sizes” are nothing more than a myth.

The Stretchable Fabric Solution

One way brands try to combat sizing issues is by using stretchable fabrics. These fabrics are forgiving when it comes to fit, allowing a single garment to accommodate two sizes comfortably. While this is a clever workaround, it’s not a perfect solution. Stretchable fabrics can only do so much—they don’t solve the problem of proportions, and they often compromise on structure and style. Plus adding elastane in the fabric composition heavily effects its recyclablity/biodegradablilty. Fabrics containing elastane (often called spandex or Lycra) can take hundreds of years to biodegrade. Unlike natural fibers such as cotton or wool, elastane is a synthetic polymer that shows little to no biodegradation in soil, water, or landfill environments.

Bottom line: Tailor-made clothing isn’t just about luxury or tradition—it’s about practicality, comfort, and confidence. When your clothes fit perfectly, you feel better, look better, and waste less time and money on alterations. So next time you’re tempted by that $5 dress, remember: one size does not fit all.

Just this morning, when I sat down to write my journal and wrote “1st December 2025,” I literally stopped, gasping for air. Seriously — we’re already in the last month of this freaking year! I can’tbelieve it. Honestly, I’m relieved this year is almost over. By far, it’s been the most challenging year so far. And yet, I couldn’t help feeling what I’ve started to feel since turning 40 — that every year feels like someone’s taken something precious away from me. I wish I could hold onto 2025 just a little longer. I’m only 43 now, but next year I’ll be 44… and so on and so forth. Uhhh… enough with the depressing talk.

I started my journal reflecting on everything that went wrong, all the struggles I faced. And trust me, they weren’t small. Of course, you could argue: I had a roof over my head, I was healthy, my husband didn’t lose his job, and my business didn’t shut down — so I should be grateful. And yes, I am grateful. But that doesn’t erase the fact that this year tested me on so many levels. Still, if I came out of it alive, healthy, with my family and parents safe, then I’d call it a good year.

At the beginning of each year, I write my end-of-year journal in a futuristic way, listing what I hope to achieve. This time, I didn’t complete everything on that list — and that’s okay. Because, you know… I’m alive, healthy, and my family is too. That’s still a win. But let’s be real: a story (blog) isn’t interesting without the crazy stuff, right? And yes, plenty of crazy things happened. I’ll get to them one by one later.

One of the biggest milestones was my daughter going off to college. Such a bittersweet moment. I missed her so deeply I couldn’t even enter her room for a month. Then, for another month, I slept in her room just to feel close to her. I still don’t know how I coped with her leaving. I miss her so much. Now that she’s coming back for the holidays, my joy knows no bounds. She’ll be here for two months (although a bit too much 🙊). I’ll cherish every moment, making memories to last me another year of not seeing her.

Another big event: I completed my post-graduation bridge program. Here’s the story — when I first did my post-graduation, I thought it was a master’s. Turns out, it was a postgraduate diploma. To convert it into a proper master’s, I had to do a six-month bridge program from the same institute. I did it, and now I officially have my Master’s in Design. Yay for me!

On top of that, my courses received international student approval, meaning we can now offer student visas. That was a huge milestone. But then, life being life, the only international student from Brunei who was ready to join dropped out just two days before the course began. That was such a bummer. And honestly, that’s been the theme of this year: everything looked promising until the very last minute, and then it slipped away.

There’s even a saying in Hindi: “Haath ko aaya, mooh na laga” — which means you’re just about to taste something, and then it’s snatched away. That perfectly sums up 2025 for me. A series of haath ko aaya, mooh na laga moments.

So here I am, not sure if I’m glad or sad that 2025 is ending. How has your year been? Share inthe comments — I’d love to read. And don’t forget, we still have one month left. If you’re rushing to finish a few things, go for it. But honestly, ’tis the season to be jolly… so fa-la-la-la and spend time with your loved ones, making a few more memories for 2025 before it gets removed from the calendar. Merry Christmas to you all. May you finish this month on a great note, surrounded by friends and family, tucked in together, celebrating.

I’ll see you all in the new year — hopefully with more consistent blogs. Love you all 💕

This writing is inspired by and dedicated to all of the Too Much women I have worked with, who, very bravely and against all odds, rise.

There she is. . . the “too much” woman. The one who loves too hard, feels too deeply, asks too often, and desires too much.

There she is taking up too much space, with her laughter, her curves, her honesty, her sexuality. Her presence is as tall as a tree, as wide as a mountain. Her energy occupies every crevice of the room. Too much space she takes.

There she is causing a ruckus with her persistent wanting, too much wanting.

She desires a lot, wants everything—too much happiness, too much alone time, too much pleasure. She’ll go through brimstone, murky river, and hellfire to get it. She’ll risk all to quell the longings of her heart and body. This makes her dangerous.

She is dangerous.

And there she goes, that “too much” woman, making people think too much, feel too much, and swoon too much. She with her authentic prose and a self-assuredness in the way she carries herself. She with her belly laughs and her insatiable appetite and her proneness to fiery passion. All eyes are on her, thinking she’s hot shit.

Oh, that “too much” woman. . . too loud, too vibrant, too honest, too emotional, too smart, too intense, too pretty, too difficult, too sensitive, too wild, too intimidating, too successful, too fat, too strong, too political, too joyous, too needy—too much.

She should simmer down a bit, and be taken down a couple of notches. Someone should put her back in a more respectable place.

Someone should tell her.

Here I am. . . a Too Much Woman, with my too-tender heart and my too-much emotions.

A hedonist, feminist, pleasure seeker, and empath. I want a lot—justice, sincerity, spaciousness, ease, intimacy, actualization, respect, to be seen, to be understood, your undivided attention, and all of your promises to be kept.

I’ve been called high maintenance because I want what I want and intimidating because of the space I occupy. I’ve been called selfish because I am self-loving. I’ve been called a witch because I know how to heal myself.

And still. . . I rise. Still, I want and feel and ask and risk and take up space.

I must.

Us Too Many Women have been facing extermination for centuries—we are so afraid of her, terrified of her big presence, of the way she commands respect and wields the truth of her feelings. We’ve been trying to stifle the Too Much Woman for aeons—in our sisters, in our wives, in our daughters. And even now, even today, we shame the Too Much Woman for her bigness, for her wanting, for her passionate nature.

And still. . . she thrives.

In my own world and before my very eyes, I am witnessing the reclamation and rising up of the Too Much Woman. That Too Much Woman is also known to some as Wild Woman or the Divine Feminine. In any case, she is me, she is you, and she is loving that she’s finally, finally getting some airtime.

If you’ve ever been called “too much,” or “overly emotional,” or “bitchy,” or “stuck up,” you are likely a Too Much Woman.

And if you are. . . I implore you to embrace all that you are—all of your depth, all of your vastness; to not hold yourself in, and to never abandon yourself, your bigness, your radiance.

Forget everything you’ve heard—your too much-ness is a gift; oh yes, one that can heal, incite, liberate, and cut straight to the heart of things.

Do not be afraid of this gift, and let no one shy you away from it. Your too muchness is magic, is medicine. It can change the world.

So please, Too Much Woman: Ask. Seek. Desire. Expand. Move. Feel. Be.

Make your waves, fan your flames, and give us chills.

Please, rise.

We need you.