En tissu?

When I was washing the last little load of clothes in our stairwell, the beautiful, cool wind slammed my door to my apartment shut. Locked out, I wandered downstairs to the Atelier until I found someone sewing, dyeing, fitting or cutting out costumes. The ladies recognized me, and my Bonjour! and the young man with long wiggly hair was able to come over and see what I needed. I explained in English that my door shut on me. He ran downstairs to find the owner, and I heard "Claudine..." as he and the ladies struggled to figure out how to describe which apartment I was in (as there were two apartments at that top level.) He soon returned, saying, "Ten minoots!" and showed me his ten fingers. OK so I knew I had a while to wait. I was in my purple sleeping t-shirt (no bra!) and my pink-flowers-on-yellow sleeping shorts (very short for France especially!) Such styling! Sure enough, about 20 minutes later, Claudine herself came up, recognized me, and we laughed. She opened the door. I shared how embarrassing it was to be in my sleeping clothes by curtsying while holding the edge of my shorts out like a skirt. She laughed, and wondered if she should get me "en tissu." She understood that I was embarrassed. It was a sweet thing that she could come so soon, would recognize me, and be willing to tease. It turns out 'tissu' means a piece of cloth (not a tissue!)
  The next day I brought down items from the refrigerator that wouldn't make it without care: potatoes, cabbage, carrots and vegetables. She explained that her Spanish was actually much better than her English, and I told her my Spanish was better than my French, so go ahead! She accepted the vegetables, and struggled to explain to me about her tomorrow's retrospective show of her life's work as a costumer to take place in another location. I apologized, explaining that I couldn't go because I had to run to the Airport the next day. I was sad to miss it.