As for how many days a week this 91-year-old man works? “Only seven,” he said sarcastically. Because for Cuevas, sitting behind a machine is “not work,” he says. “I’m out of this.”
While Cuevas can share stories with ease, he falls into silent concentration when he’s behind the sewing machine. He’s coy about how long it might take to produce a suit or which client he might work with next; He offers little more than a subtle wink when asked about the day’s work. Despite the praise of those around him, he still makes mistakes from time to time. “We make mistakes every day otherwise we wouldn’t feel good,” he says.
He works to understand the people who walk into his store to get the right fit. After all, someone wouldn’t dress Johnny Cash as the Man in Black without picking up some personality traits. Presley wanted to be like Marlon Brando, for example, but Cuevas says he knew the singer from Tupelo, Mississippi, needed his own style, and that’s what he gave him. Stewart has experienced this instinct firsthand for decades, from the time he met Cuevas — the designer gifted him a shirt from Nudie because he didn’t have a few thousand dollars for a full suit — to the moments he needed a friend.
“That friendship, a lot of times when I’m lost spiritually, emotionally and physically, I’ll go out and watch him sew,” Stewart says. “That’s where he’s really at home, when he’s in front of the machine. He’s a storyteller. I find my way, and I watch him do his thing.”
And like Cuevas’ best jackets, his work may be imitated for years to come. But no one can imitate the man behind the sewing machine. Or as he says in a break between time travel stories: “I love my life.”