Mieko DeAngelo looked up from the men's suit coat she was altering and beamed as she spoke of a Grecian-style women's dress she made that is on display at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C.

"I think about that every time my husband wants me to quit the business," DeAngelo said, suppressing a smile.

"I think every man is selfish," her co-worker, Sophia Rynkiewicz, said. "Men want their wives to stay home and wait on them hand and foot."

Visit DeAngelo's shop, T&M Unlimited Tailoring, 231 S. Allen St., and you may walk away with some age-old wisdom along with your professionally altered garmets.

Inside the storeroom cluttered with old sewing machines, boxes and countless garments, DeAngelo and Rynkiewicz meticulously adjust clothing, create new clothes and argue from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday through Saturday.

DeAngelo and Rynkiewicz are both elderly women who have sewn all their lives. DeAngelo, who is Japanese, began at the age of five. Dressed in a white sweater and green down vest, DeAngelo talked virtually non-stop Wednesday about her life and tailoring.

"I know I fit garments better than anyone in town," DeAngelo boasted. "We have a lot of customers who after we do one garment, bring in their whole wardrobes to be altered."

DeAngelo began sewing professionally in the mid-60s. She came to State College in the late '60s and opened Leonessa By Mieko, 229 S. Allen St., a women's clothing store that features many of her handmade garments. Last June she bought T&M and let her daughter run Leonessa.

The tailoring shop provides dry cleaning and tuxedo rentals. But its main business comes from tailoring.

Perhaps her most famous customer is musician George Thorogood from the Delaware Destroyers. Thorogood had DeAngelo make him clothes when he played in State College several years ago and continues to order clothes from her.

"He's had clothes made all over America and he says the clothes I make him are the best he's ever worn," DeAngelo said.

Rynkiewicz, a native of Poland, is less talkative. She quietly moves about the store with a tape measure draped around her neck, occasionally challenging DeAngelo with her insults and cracks.

"Don't say 'ma'am,' it makes me feel old," DeAngelo reprimands a young customer who was picking up some clothes.

"You shouldn't feel that way because you're old," Rynkiewicz retorts.

Their outlook for the future of tailoring is bleak.

"I wonder what will happen when we're gone?" DeAngelo said seriously. "Who's going to sew?"

"Everything will be made out of stretch paper," offers Rynkiewicz. "You'll wear it once and throw it out."