From the barbershop-lined streets of Birmingham, Alabama, to the historic storefronts of Chicago’s West Side, Black-owned tailor shops have long served as keepers of cultural heritage. These family-run businesses—many operating for generations—are more than just places to alter pants or fit a jacket; they are centers of tradition, craftsmanship, and community. Black tailoring, as both an art and a vocation, has dressed generations for Sunday services, first jobs, protests, and graduations. Over the years, these tailors have stitched not just fabric but legacies.

As The Metropolitan Museum of Art prepares to open its Costume Institute exhibition Superfine: Tailoring Black Style and the 2025 Met Gala—inspired by scholar Monica L. Miller’s groundbreaking book Slaves to Fashion: Black Dandyism and the Styling of Black Diasporic Identity—there’s no better time to celebrate the artisans behind the seams: the Black tailors who have dressed their communities for every occasion, from historic movements to everyday life.

Black tailoring is a tradition rooted in resistance, care, and skill—one that dates back to slavery. In Slaves to Fashion, Miller explores how enslaved people reshaped their assigned clothing to assert individuality and dignity. They embellished garments with salvaged fabric, secretly borrowed finer attire from enslavers, and built underground clothing economies to enhance their appearance or pass as free. These early acts of sartorial defiance laid the foundation for Black tailoring as we know it today—both a craft and a cultural statement.

For centuries, Black communities have used style as a means of survival, pride, and self-expression. Across cities like Detroit, Chicago, and Birmingham, tailor shops have been central to this evolution. From Elizabeth Keckley, who sewed her way into the White House, to Warren Clay Coleman, who founded the first Black-owned cotton mill in 1899; from Stops Cleaners in South Central LA, where Jeffrey and Delores Elam tailored outfits for The Whispers, to Harlem’s Orie Walls Custom Tailoring—Black hands have shaped American tailoring. Whether crafting a sharp pinstripe suit for graduation or adjusting a simple hem, these tailors have outfitted their communities with precision, pride, and purpose.

Ahead, Vogue visits the shops of master Black tailors across the country to explore what it means to preserve tradition, advance the craft, and keep the legacy of Black tailoring—and dandyism—thriving.

Robert Hill: Robert Hill Custom Tailors, Birmingham
In Birmingham, Robert Hill has been a pillar of Black tailoring for over 40 years. Since opening his shop in 1983, he has dressed generations of men for church, Easter Sundays, weddings, and celebrations. “My parents made sure we went to church, and that’s when I first fell in love with suits,” Hill tells Vogue. His journey into tailoring began out of necessity—”I’m short with a small waist and couldn’t find clothes that fit,” he says—but soon became his life’s work, refined through training with master tailors in the 1960s. Today, Hill’s signature lies in precision and patience. “A good suit starts with quality fabric and craftsmanship,” he says, a standard that endures despite changing trends. During tough economic times, when many shops closed, Hill’s focus on alterations kept him going: “People weren’t buying new—they brought in what they had. That’s what kept me in business.”

Photo: Courtesy of RRobert Hill Custom Tailors

Beyond the sewing machine, Robert Hill’s work represents a quiet preservation of Black elegance and self-presentation in the South. His tailoring embodies a form of dignity rooted not just in fit and cut, but in care. “Tailoring is a lost art,” he reflects. “Young people don’t have the patience. It takes time to learn this.”

While 75 to 80% of his business comes from alterations, Hill still offers custom suiting, carefully selecting fabrics, adjusting patterns, and perfecting each design for his clients. In a field with few successors, he upholds the values of tradition, discipline, and legacy. “This kind of work teaches you to slow down, to be patient,” he says. In a fashion world dominated by fast trends, Hill remains committed to a slower, more deliberate craft.

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Tony Stovall and Cliff Green: Hot Sam’s Detroit

In Detroit, the legacy of Black dandyism thrives at Hot Sam’s, the city’s oldest Black-owned menswear store—a cornerstone of the community for over 100 years. Cliff Green and Tony Stovall, the store’s owners for the past 31 years, see tailoring not just as a trade but as a calling.

“We’re more than just salesmen; we’re mentors,” Green tells Vogue. A master tailor since 1967, he treats every alteration like “a form of surgery.” His passion began in high school, watching young Black boys sewing their futures into fabric. “It hit me right then—I had to take that tailoring class,” he recalls. For Green, a great suit comes down to fabric, craftsmanship, and detail—what elevates a garment from good to exceptional.

But tailoring, to him, is more than technique—it’s about precision, care, and cultural memory. “When I sew, I think about how it should move, fit, and feel on the man. It has to mean something.” Over the years, he’s dressed generations for weddings, proms, and first jobs, instilling pride and presence. “We teach them how to stand tall, how to shake a man’s hand, how to carry themselves.”

For Tony Stovall, Hot Sam’s is a sanctuary where style meets purpose. “I bought the store so young Black men could see themselves in ownership,” he says. “We all have value, but so often we’re not told that. I wanted this place to say it loud.” His own journey began when his father brought him here for his first real suit—a rite of passage he now passes on.

At Hot Sam’s, a suit is more than fabric—it’s a lesson in confidence and self-respect. “We talk about more than clothes,” Stovall says. “We ask about their GPA, their plans, their health. We pour into them.” A prostate cancer survivor, he uses the store as a space to discuss what Black men carry and what they need. “This is where Black men come to be seen, heard, and styled. We’re not just dressing them for the moment—we’re dressing them for the world.”

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Joseph Caldwell: TailoRite Cleaners, Chicago

On Chicago’s South Side, TailoRite Cleaners has been a lifeline for the Black community for nearly seven decades. Founded in 1956 by Korean War veteran Joseph Caldwell, the business was born from both necessity and vision. “I came…” (text continues)Caldwell’s Story:

“I came back from overseas with no real marketable skills,” Caldwell tells Vogue. “Trades were highly recommended, and tailoring just spoke to me.” He enrolled in an 18-month program through the GI Bill and opened his shop with fellow veterans—Black men determined to build something of their own in a city that offered them few opportunities. While custom suiting was their initial focus, they quickly realized that most of their Black clients in Chicago needed expert repairs more than expensive made-to-measure pieces.

“We realized fast that most folks weren’t buying $500 suits, but they needed a zipper replaced or a hem taken up. That’s how we stayed in business,” Caldwell says. What kept TailoRite thriving wasn’t just skill—it was community. When major banks refused them loans, Chicago’s Black-owned Seaway Bank stepped in. “They believed in us,” Caldwell says. “And our customers did too.”

Now 92, Caldwell still comes into the shop, working alongside his family to keep the craft alive. “We love our people, and they’ve been good to us,” he says. “It just doesn’t make sense to throw away a $1,000 suit when it can be altered to fit you again.” In 1987, he moved the shop to its current location, despite doubts from those who questioned investing in a Black neighborhood. “But I believed in us,” he says. “And they’ve continued to show up.” TailoRite proves that when Black communities invest in themselves, style and tradition don’t just survive—they thrive.

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Betty Grimes’s Story:

In a quiet St. Louis storefront, 75-year-old Betty Grimes has spent the past 21 years keeping the tradition of alterations and repairs alive. “I never advertised—people just came,” she says of Betty’s Alterations & Tuxedo, her tucked-away shop. Grimes began honing her skills at 21, sewing hems for customers at her godfather Roszell Johnson’s menswear store, one of the city’s first Black-owned shops. Decades later, she still uses the same sewing machine from those early days.

“I just want people to look their best,” she says, “especially our Black men.” With precision, she adjusts sleeves and hems with the same care she uses to instill confidence in her clients.

Grimes has dressed entire generations—promgoers, groomsmen, fraternity escorts, and even her own grandsons, who wore suits she tailored to job interviews and college. “There’s nothing I could have bought more important than that,” she says, adding that her shop helped put her grandchildren through school. “That’s why I never really retired.”

She’s among a dwindling number of Black tailors preserving the craft of dressing well—a calling she takes pride in. “When I say I open at 9, I’m here at 9,” she says. “That’s what I learned from my godfather. Especially in Black business—be on time, do it right.” In her hands, every alteration is an act of care, a continuation of Black sartorial tradition, and a quiet stand against being forgotten.