Bill Wong, who ran Modernize Tailors, died April 8 at age 95.
His obituary, which said he died peacefully, described him as "generous and kind-hearted." A celebration of life will be scheduled at a later date. He is survived by Zoe, his wife of 66 years, his children and grandchildren.
"With his brother Jack they dedicated their lives to the family business at Modernize Tailors in Chinatown. He enjoyed working six days a week and was still working two days before his passing. His final measurement was for custom-made pants for baby Elliot, the newest member of the Wong family. Bill also showed his love to Zoe by sewing a heart on each pair of her new slacks. He was a thinker and problem solver who enjoyed playing bridge, golf, jogging, racquetball, drawing, art galleries and museums, architecture and design, gardening, SunDo and family travels around the world. Special thanks to the dedicated staff at Legacy Senior Living," according to a portion of the obituary, which was published in the Vancouver Sun and Province newspapers.
Reaction on social media:
Bill Wong became an institution because he made the best suits, but also because customers loved him. My thoughts are with his family. https://t.co/fzY61yTpyZ
— Christy Clark (@christyclarkbc) April 17, 2017
R.I.P. Bill Wong of the incredible #Chinatownyvr family and business of Modernize Tailors https://t.co/kaHsDpF7D5
— Youth Collab 4 CTown (@ycc_yvr) April 17, 2017
Sorry to share the news- master tailor & friend Bill Wong has died. Until now, I didn't feel it was real: https://t.co/5V8H37EdVd
— JJ Lee (@jj_lee) April 17, 2017
In 2005, reporter Michael Kissinger (of sister paper the Vancouver Courier) went in search of a suit.
Here is a short excerpt detailing Kissinger's meeting with Wong from a feature story called Well suited, which the Courier published Feb. 20, 2005.
Well suited
If God did in fact invent tailors, one of his or her early prototypes surely must have been Modernize Tailors, located at 511 Carrall St. on the edge of Chinatown.
Founded almost 90 years ago by Wong Goon and now operated by his sons Jack Wong, 81, and Bill Wong, 82, Modernize Tailors seems strangely unaffected by the passage of time. Sure, mobs of high school students no longer descend upon the store in search of tailor-made pants, but the Wong brothers, and their staff of two who've been with the store as long as they have, still make suits just as they did half a century ago — slowly and surely. The shop itself resembles a dusty time capsule, packed to the ceiling with rolls of fabric, indiscriminate piles of sales receipts and work orders, jars of buttons, stacks of catalogues, a scattering of pins and a cloth banner that stretches around the perimeter of the store celebrating B.C.'s Centennial 1858-1958. In the back room, there's an autographed picture of Sean Connery wearing the white suit Modernize made for him. The Wongs also count Ted Danson, Leslie Nielson and the governor of California, Arnold Schwartzenegger, as customers. Apparently, the former Terminator-turned- politician had 28 suits, each one the same, made for him.
As Bill ("the stylish one," according to brother Jack) puts it, "A suit's a suit."
Beneath his sparse words, there's almost a Yoda-like quality to the veteran suit designer, as he shuffles around the store in an old sweater vest and fleece top, answering questions with questions, showing me the ancient Jedi-ways of tailoring. For a second, I imagine pulling a Luke Skywalker and carrying the wise old man on my back.
Wong says he can have a made-to-measure suit for me in about two weeks, and for a reasonable price. "Not that much," he says. "We're competitive. Between five-hundred-and-fifty and six hundred dollars. Somewhere around there. Is that a good price for you?"
Though suit making keeps them busy, most of Modernize's business comes from alterations. Bill points to a pair of pants, made at his shop in 1980, that's having its waist let out. "Customers get bigger," he says dryly.
Later on, a grubby looking middle-aged fellow with stringy cigarette stained hair and cowboy boots comes in carrying a balled up, mildewy Le Chateau jacket. Not only is the man a self-described "half-assed singer and guitar player," he's also "a goddamn Scotchman who doesn't throw anything away." That's why he wants Bill to sew a vinyl collar onto the jacket to go with the cuffs he's already attached himself.
These type of requests aren't that unusual says Bill, before returning to the hum of sewing machines in his insulated lair of jackets, pants and measuring tape.
