There’s some analogy to be had between a ghostwriter and a tailor—both have got to make their client look well cut and elegant, and maybe conceal the flaws or the flab.
I once had some suits made by a retired Savile Row tailor called Harry Cooper for a good price. He was a gifted cutter of cloth, but on one final fitting something didn’t seem to sit well. “It’s nothing to do with the suit,” said Harry, curtly. “It’s the inner man.” No answer to that. What can you do about the inner man? Well, there are tricks, which Harry knew, and he fixed me. A tailor, maybe a butler, too.
