4. Piper #2
“I’m sorry, you have a problem with the campaign, Piper?” Vincent demanded.
“Yes, do tell,” Eileen added, her voice dripping with displeasure.
The heat of a dozen glares burned through me.
No turning back now. “I, uh, I just think that since Evermore has been five years in the making, we should do something different. The campaign for the whole trio of fragrances has been super influential so far, which is great, but it’s also a major drawback because our images aren’t fresh anymore. They haven’t…evolved.”
No one had thrown me out of the room at the end of a pitchfork yet, so I pressed on.
“We’ve seen Then and Now, and yes, they were elegant, iconic even.
But Evermore…it’s different. This isn’t just another chapter; it’s the final.
It has to be bolder. Something that sticks, that makes people rethink everything they thought they knew about the brand.
We need to make people stop and feel something new. ”
“This is our brand story, Piper,” Vincent said, his voice neutral. “Branding is everything.”
“Yes, but at a certain point a brand can get oversaturated, and then it’s time for a pivot.
I’m not saying we scrap everything. But Evermore should feel like the culmination of something timeless—yet daring.
We need to update the visuals in a way that still ties into the existing theme but breathes life into it.
Like…” I scanned the room for inspiration.
“Taking if off the pedestal and making it more human.”
“How … interesting. And unnecessary.” Vincent was trying to dismiss me, and his condescending tone flipped a switch in my brain.
I glared at him despite the audience. “Excuse me?”
“You’re our photographer, but you need to leave the creative direction to the rest of your team. They’re the experts—not you.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to remember just how significant my contribution is going to be?” I gave him a pointed look. No Piper, no perfume, it was as simple as that, and he knew it.
Vincent’s jaw twitched. If we’d been alone, I’m sure he would’ve loved to unsheathe his sword and spar with me, but since we were surrounded by his employees, he thought better of it.
“There’s a lot more to a campaign than a bunch of abstract ideas.” Vincent’s voice sharpened. “A campaign has to hit metrics. You need to consider demographics, psychographics, market trends—”
“And that’s exactly why I’m suggesting this shift.
According to the last quarter’s market analysis, Millennials and Gen Z make up over seventy percent of the luxury fragrance market, and they buy products that evoke an emotional connection.
They want products that grab their attention and make them feel something real and authentic.
You know what isn’t attention-grabbing? Doing the same thing over and over again.
We’ve had this image out in the market for years now. ”
“And everyone loves it,” Vincent shot back.
“Everyone loved it,” I corrected. “You know what that means, right? That it’s just a matter of time before the competition copies it. Then not only will it not be fresh, but it won’t even be solely ours anymore. We’ll be defining ourselves by images that have become generic.”
Vincent tried to suppress his irritation. Eileen blinked, her expression unreadable. I had them.
He narrowed his eyes at me. His voice came out tight.
“Let’s focus on the campaign, shall we?”
Eileen had clearly expected me to get raked over the coals, and this non-reaction made her smile falter for just a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features before she masked it with a crafted expression of approval.
It was as if she was trying to play the role of supportive cohost while simultaneously assessing who would win this round.
When the meeting was finally over, I gathered my things and headed for the door, only to get chastised by the assistant for forgetting my fragrance sample stick at my chair. When I went back to grab it, Eileen was holding it and frowning at me.
“You’re new, so we’ll overlook all of these mistakes, Piper,” she scolded as she handed the stick over. “But from now on, remember your place. Don’t speak out of turn.”
It was as if she’d taken a page from the Prentiss Mercer playbook. Talking down to me, trying to box me into a specific role…I’d managed to leave home and get out from under his thumb, but I never expected I’d have to face the same sort of bullshit at work.
Maybe taking the job had been a mistake. The money was fabulous, but there was no way I was going to put up with someone treating me like an unruly child every day. Freelance life was rough, but at least I was my own boss.
But then I thought of Darcy’s hopeful face when I’d revealed my new role at Summit and the money it would bring in.
This job would hold us over as we waited for an influx of support from Mercedes, and it would allow us to place our first major order that would carry us through our first year, if all went according to projections. I was taking hits for the greater good.
I could deal with it, at least for a little while.
I trudged back to my desk with my head down, feeling defeated because both the woman I reported to and the man in charge had it out for me.
My phone buzzed with a text. I assumed it was Darcy since it was her usual midday check-in time, and I needed a shot of her positivity to make it through the rest of the day, so I immediately checked the screen. When I saw who the text was from, I let out a groan.
Matthew, the person I’d considered a boyfriend but who had actually laughed while telling me I was nothing more than a booty call to him. Our breakup had been humiliating, and when I walked away from him, I’d told him to delete my number.
Clearly, he hadn’t listened. What the hell did he want?
“Hey you,” the text read. “Been thinking about you a ton lately and that has to mean something. Let’s grab coffee and catch up.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. Yeah, right.