Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
Beau was going round the big trade show at London Fashion Week. Every season, he found a way to get in to check out the competition and schmooze contacts among designers exhibiting their collections and the buyers and stylists looking at them. He was always photographed by influencers, which was good for getting the brand name out there, but this time, he felt a little less confident than usual about his appearance, since he’d so rashly shaved his head.
There was one good thing about that, though. When he’d got back to Hackney after his two-week break in Hastings, he’d seen Flora sitting in of one of his favourite cafés and she hadn’t spotted him as he’d walked past. He was sure she would have if he’d still had his old hair.
He’d pared down the rest of his look to balance out the new barnet, swapping his wafty white silk shirts and trailing scarves for tight, plain black t-shirts. He didn’t think he looked too much like the waiter he actually was again. He had one of his rings hanging round his neck on a fine gold chain, his fingers were generously furnished with them as usual and he was hoping being less extravagantly dressed and coiffed would make his jewellery the focus of attention.
This time, he was particularly looking out for buyers, because he wanted more retail outlets; he only had the one. He got some online sales from his Instagram feed and he was doing well to already have a loyal base of clients who were repeat purchasers, but he wanted the visibility and kudos of being in some premium West End shops. Liberty was his dream goal.
‘Hey, Beau!’ he heard someone call out.
He turned and there was Yewande, walking towards him down the aisle between stands, holding a coffee.
‘Hey, Yewande,’ he said, going over and kissing her on the cheek. ‘I was just coming to find you. Thanks so much for getting me the entry pass. It will be so nice to have a base I can retreat back to when it gets too much. I always find doing this show a uniquely stressful experience.’
‘Have you ever had a stand at it?’
‘No, I just cruise around like a desperate loser, hoping to get noticed.’
Yewande laughed. ‘So, status normal for you then,’ she said. ‘But if you want to know real stress, you should try having a stand. You still feel like a desperate loser – and you’ve paid several thousand pounds for the privilege. I’m just round the corner, in the cheap seats. Come with me now, I need to get back. I was gasping for a coffee, but if I don’t hurry I might miss the buyer from Selfridges wanting to buy the entire collection.’
Her stand looked great. She’d covered the walls with dark brown hessian and placed bamboo furniture and big plants round the edge of the stand to break up the view from outside and make it look intriguing.
‘It’s very impactful,’ said Beau. ‘There’s no question about your look.’
‘Thank you,’ said Yewande. ‘It was also very cheap. I had to get a loan from my uncle to have this stand. The furniture is from my flat – originally from Facebook Marketplace.’ She burst out laughing and Beau joined in. ‘Can you stay a while? You’re a good accessory. Buyers will think you’re from a chic boutique in Paris and they’ll be terrified to miss out on my amazing clothes.’
‘Get out your order book,’ said Beau. ‘Let’s make it look serious.’
He flicked through the rails, pulling things out and holding them up as though he was appraising them, then putting different pieces together in groups.
‘So what is the percentage if I buy ten of each style?’ he asked loudly in a fake French accent as some women walked past, glancing at the stand. They did a double take and stopped, then came onto the stand. Beau caught Yewande’s eye and waggled his eyebrows.
She went over to the women, who seemed to be looking at the clothes with genuine interest. ‘Do let me know if you have any questions,’ she said.
Beau pretended to be studying a collar in great detail. ‘I’ll say I’m going to find my business partner,’ he whispered when Yewande came over, ‘and I’ll come back in hour with more coffee.’
‘That’s great, Jean-Francois,’ said Yewande in a slightly raised tone. ‘I will see you and Renée in a little while.’
‘A bient?t, ma cherie,’ said Beau. ‘I will be back shortly to close the deal.’
The fun with Yewande made him feel better – and gave his confidence a welcome boost. Maybe he hadn’t lost all his mojo with his hair after all, which gave him the courage to do one of the things he’d specifically come to the exhibition for – to find the Giuliette stand.
Since having a glimpse of her work in the Style section, he’d looked at the website and been even more impressed. Her name was Juliet Mylan and she’d started off pretty much like him: making stuff and selling it, getting her break in Fenwick and then being used in shoots by Vogue and the other glossies. He loved the bold style of her jewellery – and he thought she might like his stuff too. It had the same sense of unrestrained glamour.
At first he’d thought of visiting the shop in Walton Street, but going to her stand at this trade fair seemed more professional and casual – he was there because he was also in the industry and he’d just happened to stumble upon her wares...
The exhibition guide showed that her stand – a big one, by the look of it – was in the special invitation-only area of the show, where all the biggest London fashion names were located. And when he got there, he couldn’t miss it: the Giuliette stand was mobbed. There was no way he would be able to get a proper look at the jewellery with so many bodies there, let alone meet her. Feeling deflated, he walked round for a bit, bumping into a couple of stylists he knew, then he picked up some coffees and headed back to Yewande.
‘Hey, Bobo,’ she said when she saw him. ‘Get up here, my beautiful good luck charm.’
He stepped up onto the stand and handed her the drink. ‘Well, hello to you. What have I done to deserve this welcome?’
‘Those women who came up when you were giving your Oscar-worthy performance placed an order – and when another buyer saw me writing it up, they came to look and ordered too – and then another one.’
‘Wow, Yewande. That’s fantastic.’
‘Those three orders have paid for having this stand and more. So thank you.’
‘Well, thank you for getting me in here.’
‘What have you seen on your travels?’ she asked as they sat down.
‘There’s a jewellery brand I really wanted to look at. But it was so mobbed, it was hopeless. It’s called Giuliette.’ Gwillet .
‘I don’t know it.’
‘It’s fantastic gear. I want to meet the designer and ask her advice. I think she’d like my stuff, but I don’t know how to get near.’
Yewande looked thoughtful, taking a sip from her coffee. ‘There are two things you could try,’ she said. ‘You could come back first thing tomorrow and catch her before the crowds build up – but people can be very focussed then, getting ready for their day, so what might be better is to go back just before closing tonight. After a day of this you start to get a bit of demob fever just before home time, so you might just catch her in a good mood. And if it’s a leading brand, she won’t leave before the end. None of the really successful people do. Last year, I got my biggest order five minutes before the end on the last day.’
‘You are a genius, Yewande,’ said Beau. ‘I’m going to try that. Meanwhile I’ll do a bit more method acting on your stand.’
Sure enough, when Beau got back to the Giuliette area two hours later, it was deserted, with just one woman sitting off to the side, absorbed with something on a laptop.
He took his time examining the display. The pieces were even better in real life than in the pictures. The close work – the settings of the stones, the earring hooks, clasps, closures and chains – was all really finely done. That made such a difference and was one of the things he made a big effort with himself.
He was so absorbed in the jewellery, he didn’t realise someone had come over to where he was standing.
‘Do you like it?’
Beau looked up to see Juliet Mylan smiling down at him from the slightly higher level on the other side of the counter. She was very beautiful in real life. He hadn’t been expecting that.
‘I love it,’ said Beau. ‘I can’t tell you how much.’ He lifted up his hands to show her his rings. ‘I’m a jeweller too and I aspire with all my heart to do work as fine as this.’
She smiled at him, then looked at his rings. ‘Will you take them off? I’d like to see them properly.’
Then she pulled a black velvet pad out from under the counter for him to put his rings on, which he thought was incredibly cool – but also made him worry that his things would look shabby next to her beautiful pieces.
Juliet picked up the loupe that was hanging on a chain round her neck and put it to her eye to study Beau’s rings. ‘I really like them,’ she said. ‘Do you have a brand? Where do you sell?’
‘My brand is Mojobo. I mostly sell off Instagram. I’ve got some loyal repeat clients from that. Mostly people in the music business.’
Juliet smiled. ‘I can see your work would appeal to that demographic. So does mine. Do you have any retail outlets?’
‘One shop,’ he said, ‘in Borough Market. My studio is round the corner from there. I would love to be in more shops. Liberty is my goal.’
‘Well, your work is more than good enough for there, but I do know how hard it is to get into that first proper outlet.’
She smiled at him and Beau decided to go for it.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I know it’s cheeky, but I was wondering, would you consider letting me come and do some work experience with you? I’d be happy to do anything to help. I’ll sweep up, make tea, collect your dry cleaning...’
‘I tell you what,’ she said, stepping back from the edge of the display case to show him her tummy. ‘As you can see, I’m about to have a baby. Possibly while we’re standing here talking...’
‘There’s definitely something in there.’
‘So, I’m not going to be around at work for a while, but I’ll give you the email of my assistant, Octavia, so you can contact her and arrange the work experience. I’ll tell her you’re going to be in touch. What’s your name?’
Just as he answered, the tannoy in the exhibition hall came on, loudly announcing that it was five minutes until closing and all visitors should make their way to the exits – drowning him out.
‘Okay, Bob,’ said Juliet, handing him a business card. ‘I’ll tell Octavia to expect your email and I’ll look forward to seeing you in the studio or the shop – or the dry cleaners – when I come back.’
‘Thank you so much,’ said Beau, registering that she had called him Bob, but thinking it would be rude to correct her. He was still wondering what to do when the tannoy sounded again.
‘Oops,’ said Juliet, ‘I better go. I’ve got to lock all this up. See you soon, Bob!’
Beau walked out of the exhibition hall feeling as though he had grown wings. What a result! How lovely she was. How amazing that he was going to work in her studio.
He could handle being called Bob for that.