As for how many days a week this 91-year-old man works? “Only seven,” he quipped. Because for Cuevas, sitting behind the machine “[is] not work,” he says. “I get a kick out of this.”
And while Cuevas can swap stories with ease, he falls into a silent focus when behind the sewing machine. He’s coy about how long it may take to produce a suit or what client he may be working with next; he offers little more than a subtle wink when asked about the day’s work. And despite the praise from those around him, he still makes an occasional error. “We make mistakes every day or else it doesn’t feel good,” he says.
He works to understand the people who step into his shop for a fitting. After all, someone doesn’t dress Johnny Cash as the “Man In Black” without picking up on a few personality traits. Presley wanted to be like Marlon Brando, for example, but Cuevas says he knew that this singer from Tupelo, Mississippi, needed his own style, and that’s what he gave him. Stuart has experienced this instinct firsthand for decades, from when he met Cuevas—the designer gifted him a shirt from Nudie’s shop because he was a few thousand dollars short of affording a full suit—to moments when he needed a friend.
“That friendship, a lot of times when I get lost spiritually, emotionally, physically, I go out and watch him sew,” Stuart says. “That’s where he’s really at home, when he’s at the machine. He’s a storyteller. I find my way, watching him do his thing.”
And like the best Cuevas jackets, his work may be imitated for years to come. But no one can replicate the man behind the sewing machine. Or, as he says in a pause between time-traveling stories, “I love my life.”
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