Shopping With the Enemy (3 page)

‘Yes, thank you.’

It didn’t matter that on floor 47, Lana, Elena and Gracie shared the smallest office that three people
could
possibly squeeze into. The important thing was that the teeny tiny office was a foothold in this dizzying skyscraper right at the heart of Manhattan’s famous Fifth Avenue.

It meant that fledgling fashion company, Perfect Dress, had a Fifth Avenue presence, a Fifth Avenue letterhead and that all-important, Fifth Avenue address.

In the mirrored elevator wall, Lana checked herself over discreetly. Her long, dark hair fell smoothly past her shoulders, although there was now a perky new fringe cut high above her elegantly tweezed eyebrows. She was fully made up, but in the light and glossy way of the super-groomed New York girls she was making a huge effort to copy. Lana was deeply in love with every single detail about New York. She planned to stay in this amazing city
for ever
.

Today, she was wearing a bright white blouse and a puffy above-the-knee skirt with the highest heels she could bear and sheerest tights. April was drawing to a close and it was already warm enough to go bare-legged, but no high-aiming New Yorker would risk bare legs at the office. Way too unprofessional.

Opening the door to the office, Lana saw that Svetlana’s 23-year-old daughter, Elena, was already at her desk, on the phone, firing off questions in her distinctive Eastern-Europe-meets-Manhattan
accent.
Just like her mother, Elena was unfairly blonde and beautiful, but unlike Svetlana, she didn’t exploit her looks. She always wore sober, professional outfits and pulled her golden mane into chic ponytails or grown-up chignons.

‘Yes of courrrrrse … do you have some time to speak with our PR manager?’ she asked the caller and looked at Lana with a smile.

As it was a pocket-sized company, with only three people actively involved in the day-to-day running, they all pitched in with the PR, design, product development and sales, although Elena was definitely the boss.

‘All set,’ Lana said, reaching for her phone.

‘Well?’ Elena asked once Lana’s call was over, ‘did she go for it?’

‘Um … she’s thinking about it,’ Lana admitted, immediately worried that she hadn’t given the journalist at the other end of the line enough of a dazzling sales pitch to get a Perfect Dress featured in her fashion spread.

‘Please don’t worry. Really, I hate that magazine,’ Elena told her. ‘We just move on and find somewhere else. There are always new opportunities: my mother say this, I think she hear it from one of her husbands, maybe Igor.’

Lana smiled. Igor was the most famous of Svetlana’s ex-husbands. He was the father
of
Svetlana’s two boys, owned gas fields in Russia and was richer than anyone could imagine, so his nuggets of advice were usually followed.

‘Oh my goodness, Gracie has been busy,’ Lana exclaimed, spotting the pile of clutter strewn across the third desk in the cramped office: drawings, photos of models, photos of dresses, clippings of fabric and everything stapled, scribbled on, clipped together. A creative frenzy had obviously been going on since Lana had been in the office yesterday.

‘Yes, we were here until late last night putting together the plans for the big presentation to the mothers in London. I am very serious about our new ideas,’ Elena added. ‘The latest sales figures came in yesterday and in New York, London, Paris and Milan we are 20 per cent down for the last two months and according to Svetlana, our new autumn/winter collection will look like this–’

Elena held up several pages of drawings and pulled a face.

Lana went over to study the sketches.

‘But don’t these dresses look just the same as last year’s? Some are even in the same colours.’

‘Exactly!’ Elena exclaimed. ‘They are all exactly the same as last year. We can’t do this, people will laugh at us. This is an all-new old collection. But Svetlana says: “everything is classic, everything is vvvvonderrrrful.” She just wants to put out the
same
dresses season after season. It will never work.’

‘I can sort of see the point of running the black, the navy and maybe even the gold silk one again,’ Lana ventured. ‘You know, classic colours, very classic styles. They could probably run for a few seasons, but … the purple?’

Elena shook her head: ‘Purple is no good for next season. Dove grey did not sell the first time round, so why would we do it again? And sea green? Sea green is finished! Our ideas are much, much better.’

For several weeks now, Elena, Lana and newest member of the team, Gracie, had been putting together ideas for a dramatically new and different Perfect Dress collection. It was about wild new colours and prints, bold shapes, and all sorts of edgy styling details.

The problem was – they hadn’t told the Mothers, Svetlana and Annie, about these new ideas yet.

But Lana and Elena were about to travel to London to make a dazzling – and, they hoped, persuasive – presentation to their bosses. If they could just get the Mothers to agree, then they were sure they could turn the Perfect Dress situation around.

Lana knew what would happen if they didn’t turn the situation around: she would be on a plane back to London and her exciting New York life would be over, possibly for good.

That just couldn’t happen! She would not allow it. Lana would do whatever she had to do to save Perfect Dress and her New York career.

‘Svetlana’s boring ideas are for ladies who lunch,’ Elena declared. ‘This is the problem! We need a much bigger market. We need everyone who can afford lunch, not just the ladies pushing sushi round their plates. Plus, I believe that the ladies who lunch are bored with safe dresses and tasteful elegance. I think the ladies who lunch might want to be much more daring if we could just convince them.’

‘Something beautifully made, but much more edgy?’

‘Ya. Gracie wants studs. She thinks we should put studs round the collars of the dresses and maybe on the pockets and cuffs. Punky stud detailing.’

‘Studs?!’ Lana asked with her eyebrows raised: ‘you want to put studs on a silk dress which costs $400? Oh my. That is … that is …’

She was thinking of presenting this idea to the Mothers and the words ‘scary’ and ‘terrifying’ came to mind.

But Elena chipped in with: ‘Genius. It is a genius idea, no?’

‘Do you think we can get them to agree? I mean, we have to, Elena, otherwise I’m not going to be working here any more.’

‘We have to make them agree. This is our mission
in
London. The Mothers must try something new and bold and exciting,’ Elena said, looking very serious, ‘or very soon it won’t just be you leaving – our whole business could be finished.’

The sombre silence that followed these words was broken by the sound of the door opening. Gracie burst into the room, a riot of cheerfulness and colour.

‘Hi!’ she exclaimed, ‘it’s another beautiful day for fashion! Is my outfit not a triumph?’

The petite girl with the snowy skin, cropped fringe and curly orange hair held out her hands, gave a quick pirouette and turned to them both for approval.

As usual, Gracie looked amazing. Every day, from a wardrobe made up of second-hand finds, sale bargains, scraps of materials and home-sewn creations, this 19-year-old fashion whizz managed to conjure up a new, fresh and entirely original look.

Today her dainty figure was swathed in a bright green ballet cardigan, leggings, silver ballet shoes and a skirt, puffed out with netting, which looked as if it had been cleverly created from a 1950s curtain.

A pair of earrings in the style of large, boiled sweets dangled from her lobes.

‘Wow!’ Lana laughed, ‘brilliant!’

Once again, her own attempt at a fashion-forward outfit faded into the background. But she didn’t feel
jealous,
just in awe, because it was impossible not to love Gracie.

‘Please tell me you have more of that skirt material,’ Elena said. ‘Maybe we can make dresses from it.’

Gracie shook her head: ‘Found it in a trash can. But what’s to stop us creating a totally awesome pattern inspired by it?’

Her eyes flashed with enthusiasm. She darted over to her desk, set down her shiny tote bag and pulled out her notebook, a fuzzy blue pencil case, scraps of paper, magazine snippings, then a foil package which Lana knew would be a wheat-free bagel filled with tofu and vegetables.

‘Have you heard of Parker Bain?’ Gracie asked, opening her notebook and unzipping the pencil case.

Elena and Lana shook their heads.

‘He is uh-mazing,’ Gracie said, closing her eyes and stretching her fingers wide to make the point. ‘He’s this totally cool graphic artist, young, like … fresh out of college, but his work is so strong, so distinctive that he’s already got magazine commissions and I was thinking maybe we could ask him to design some fabrics for us.’

‘Our own fabrics?’ Elena asked. ‘This will be too expensive, no?’

‘I don’t know, I thought if we kept to one or two
colours,
found a small factory … I guess I wanted to ask him for ideas. Then we get costings and see what might be possible. I mean: our own patterns – that would be really something. Get us talked about, get us noticed. And Parker Bain, he’s on the radar, he’s the really cool, edgy, out there kinda guy we could team up with to make a splash.’

Elena’s eyebrows were raised, she was obviously considering the idea.

‘Sounds cool,’ Lana agreed.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Gracie went on, ‘but I’ve kind of asked him to come up and see us. Like … this morning … like in fact kind of … now.’

‘Now?’ Elena frowned.

‘I checked your diary and knew you didn’t have anything scheduled till 9.30. Plus, I just think you’re going to love him. He’s seriously cool and more than a little bit handsome.’

Lana gave a snort.

Elena looked stern: ‘This is why you want him to work with us?’

‘No!’ Gracie protested, ‘I love this company, I would only suggest someone if I thought they were fabulous.’

‘OK, OK, we will speak to Mr Bain for a few minutes,’ Elena agreed then turned back to her computer screen.

After that, everyone was busy. Lana and Elena
made
fresh calls, Gracie began a new sketch, colouring in energetically, then the intercom buzzed and Gracie jumped up from her chair to answer.

‘Whoa, this is cosy!’ Parker Bain stepped into the office then manoeuvred himself and his bag into the only available space in between the three desks.

Elena smiled, Gracie grinned and Lana found herself looking hard at Parker Bain and agreeing completely with Gracie that he was more than a little bit handsome.

Parker was tall and thin with long arms and legs. His black jeans and dark striped shirt were tight, making him look even longer and thinner. He was that heady cocktail of both cute and cool.

His hair was inky black and just the right mix of short but tousled, and his skin was a soft, light olive. He had a beautiful mouth, beautiful hands with long fingers. Even the battered leather bag slung over his shoulder was the kind of bag that looked vintage and just right – as if it had been taken up mountains and lashed with rain.

‘Hi, I’m Parker, by the way,’ he said in a husky voice, ‘Gracie asked me to come over because you might like to talk about designs … which is totally great, by the way. I love fabric designs. I am all about fabric designs.’

As he reached over to shake her hand, Lana tried to remember that she had just ended a bad
relationship
with a cool cat New York guy and had promised herself time to get over it, but it wasn’t much use. As Parker’s eyes met hers, she felt the undeniable sizzle of attraction.

Here was yet another reason why she
had
to stay in New York.

Chapter Four

London

Lana shopping with Mother:

Red silk jumpsuit (Banana Republic sale)

Cropped white leather jacket (on loan from Elena)

Orange peep-toed heels (Primark)

Skull pendant (last bad boyfriend)

White plastic sunglasses (Topshop)

Severely cropped fringe (did-it-herself)

Total est. cost: £105

‘NO – NOT WORKING.’

Lana’s hand shot out from behind the pink velvet curtain holding an exquisite silver satin dress.

‘I don’t like these either,’ she added as a pair of lacy lilac leggings appeared over the top of the curtain.

‘OK. Right, well, I’ll see what else I can find,’ Annie said, her enthusiasm wilting. It felt as if Lana had already tried on every outfit in the entire shop and she still wasn’t happy.

And in The Store too! Did Lana really have to have a great big, stroppy, fashion identity crisis right in the middle of the achingly chic department store where Annie had worked as a personal shopper for years?

Less than an hour ago, Annie had swept in through the doors of The Store in a blaze of glory. She’d greeted, smiled and air-kissed her way through the perfume hall and handbag department and all the way up to the second floor.

‘Hello! How are you doing, sweetheart?’

‘Back to see us again, superstar!’

‘Oooh look at your girl, she’s so grown up and gorgeous.’

It had been music to Annie’s ears. She loved to come back to The Store and she’d so looked forward to bringing Lana here. Annie had been waiting for this day for weeks. To be in The Store, shopping with Lana, who’d come all the way over from New York and was looking so fashion and so totally grown up. It was supposed to be a perfect day.

Once upon a time, Annie had been The Store’s number one personal shopper, who had guided customers through this elegant white and glass slice
of
fashionista heaven teaching them Miu Miu from Moschino and Calvin from Cavalli. Her client list had ranged from Persian princesses who lived for Chanel to new mums in search of the outfit which could lift them from frazzle to dazzle.

Now that her day job involved doing client makeovers on TV, she still held to the belief that everyone deserves to dress beautifully because a gorgeous outfit makes life just that little bit better.