Madame Xu was dressed in breathtaking silk attire and designer sandals when I entered her stately warehouse conversion on Shanghai’s East Nanjing Road. She may have been in her late 30s, her long, black hair was open, and she was beautiful. I had won a voucher for an all-in custom tailor treat at the company raffle, and Madame Xu’s tailor shop was one of the city’s most famous addresses to get outfits of superior quality. Zhou Xuan’s song ‘Ye Shanghai’ was playing in the background, and I accepted a seat on a Chesterfield sofa and a glass of mature, yellow rice wine from a servant.
“Tingting!” Madame Xu called softly, clapping her hands. A pretty young girl with glasses and Lolita braids came scurrying around a corner, carrying sewing implements and a box. She was wearing a short jeans dress, Converse sneakers, and a long sleeved top with black and white stripes.
“Gentleman here is our customer today,” Madame explained to Tingting, “gets entire outfit.” Tingting nodded eagerly, setting up utensils around herself. “First, we need to take measurement,” Madame Xu explained in her calm, well-paced manner. Tingting rushed to her side with a measuring tape immediately. Tingting was in her early twenties, quite tall and womanly by Chinese standards, perhaps from the north of the country, where people tend to have a more robust build.
Madame Xu dictated basic measurements to Tingting, who noted them on a pad. They had me change into a standard suit in a changing room then, to see where there might be a need for modification. “Mhm,” said Madame, “more material on the back of the legs,” and Tingting noted it dutifully. It took a long time to record all the requirements for my new suit, it seemed. I was offered tea and more wine along the way, even finger foods. Finally, the suit measurements were done, and I was asked to take off the standard suit, and to stand there only in my shirt and shorts.
“Full outfit means also shirt and underwear,” Madame Xu explained as she took away the suit. I caught Tingting glance at my hairy legs, as did Madame Xu. “Foreigners very manly stature,” she explained half to me, half to Tingting, “lots of muscles and body hair.” Tingting blushed and quickly busied herself rearranging things inside her utensil box.
Madame opened my shirt buttons. Tingting stared. I’d never been one for much manscaping on chest and belly, and it seemed to impress them. The measurements continued, and once Madame Xu had finished with my upper geography, she turned her attention to my boxers. “Tsk, tsk,” she said, “very low quality. Not good enough for real gentleman. Here in China, we make undergarments for 4.000 years, much better than these.”
And she proceeded to take measurements around my boxers, making Tingting take notes. Then she made me take off my boxers altogether. “Basic measurements very important,” she explained, arming herself with her measuring tape again. Tingting moved around me and sat on the floor, looking intently at my privates. “Ohh, circumcised,” said Madame, “seems like everyone have this now.” And she measured the length of my penis, calling out measurements to Tingting, who noted them dutifully. “Penis 9 cm, glans free, 4 cm; no inner foreskin visible... this important because we need to make sure there is right kind of fabric up to right height,” she explained. “Uncircumcised is easy, can be all cotton, but circumcised need silk insert.” Then she proceeded to measure the circumference of my testicles, and the two ladies engaged in complicated volume calculations, “to calculate proper space,” Madame explained.
“Now we measure with erection,” Madame Xu explained, and motioned Tingting to take over. As soon as she touched me, I became ragingly erect. “Tingting special touch,” Madame explained with a smile from her chair by the desk. Tingting also smiled. “Penis 80 degrees, curved, 15 cm, glans 4 cm, inner foreskin visible 2 cm... tight,” she reported.
“Good,” said Madame Xu and got up to leave the room, “I brief tailors, you finish up, Tingting.”
Tingting looked up at me when Madame Xu had left, for the first time seeking direct eye contact. She was sitting on the floor. “Now we do material selection,” she said and pulled the box closer. Holding out a sample, she explained, “this is standard cotton as we use for uncircumcise. Feels like that.” And she wrapped it around my penis, slowly moving it along the shaft and over the glans. “Not good, I think,” she said and shook her head for extra emphasis, taking out another sample. “Now this Yunnan silk,” she explained, “very low friction; feels like this,” and she repeated the process of wrapping it around my penis and moving it forward. “Oh,” she said and dabbed at the tip of my penis with her index finger, “I think you like; something come out. Let’s see if you like Xinjiang silk even more...” And she applied a piece of shimmering, dark olive coloured cloth; first running it along the length of the penis, then wrapping a one-inch wide piece of it around the area directly behind the glans. Turning the silk strip, she steadied my penis by resting her thumb on the frenulum area. That finally did it, and a thick fountain of sperm ended up covering her arm. A few spots even reached her glasses.
“Good,” she said, wiping her glasses, “Xinjiang silk you like best.”
In my opinion, everyone should have tailor made boxers made from Xinjiang silk.