Page 102 of Guilty Pleasures

To Stella it was just a jumble of tiny numbers in little boxes.

‘Is this good?’

Emma took a drink of water from the bottle on the table.

‘It’s 400 per cent up on what we were projected to be doing and we haven’t even officially launched yet. Bond Street has already called in with a stock order for more products.’

She took a breath.

‘Which is why I want to launch a collection of womenswear next season.’

Stella just gaped at her.

‘You’re not serious? You want to launch a ready-to-wear line in six months?’ she said, feeling a spike of fear. ‘

That’s crazy!’

Emma looked at her determinedly. ‘There’s a real momentum building here, I can feel it. A year is a long time in fashion and I don’t think we can leave it another couple of seasons. I always saw Milford as a fashion and luxury goods company like Hermès or Louis Vuitton, rather than one that simply makes handbags and luggage. If results are this good, then I think it makes sense to expand quickly.’

‘How big a collection were you thinking?’ asked Stella with a sinking feeling. It didn’t take much to work out that Emma’s new plans had direct implications for her.

‘Small and exclusive,’ she said firmly. ‘It has to be in line with our brand message for the bags which are practically made to order. There seems to me to be a gap between haute couture and ready-to-wear and that’s where we should fit in.’

Stella smiled thinking how far Emma had come in the literacy of fashion. Six months ago she didn’t know a Tod’s from a Toblerone; now she was proposing to break the mould and create an entirely new fashion market. Now Emma even looked the part in her camel Armani shift dress and Louboutin heels, her hair like a flaxen horse’s tail, swinging elegantly with every move of her head.

‘So you’re thinking sort of limited edition pieces,’ said Stella, beginning to get excited about the idea, despite herself.

‘Absolutely; an artesian line if you like,’ said Emma. ‘I’m thinking a 20-piece capsule wardrobe with a cap on the number of pieces in production. We do this for three or four seasons then we can think about a full ready-to-wear line at a slightly more accessible price point.’

‘You want womenswear for next season,’ said Stella, still shaking her head in disbelief.

Emma nodded.

‘You do think it’s possible?’ she asked, with a note of reservation in her voice. ‘If we’re going to do it, we have to do it properly.’

Stella remembered a similar conversation with Cate Glazer, who had also been in a hurry to expand her empire after a couple of hit bags. Cate had had much bigger resources at her disposal than Milford and even more bullish confidence. The fashion press had doubted such a fast expansion at the time but Cate had pulled it off and their first show during New York Fashion Week had graduated them from a bag company to a lifestyle empire.

‘Well, anything’s possible,’ said Stella. ‘But who’s going to design it?’

Emma pulled a face.

‘Me? Come on, Em, I’m flattered but how can I do both? I’m flat out as it is.’

Emma smiled and looked towards the roof. ‘Looked like it.’

‘OK, OK, but I want a team. I know a guy from St Martin’s who’s worked at Donna Karan and another girl who has experience on Savile Row. Although strictly speaking, design isn’t the problem,’ she said, now thinking out loud. ‘Fabric’s the big hitch. It’s one thing turning up at Premiere Vision – that’s the big textile trade fair in September – but the very best suppliers will have exclusive contracts with the top fashion houses.’

‘Can we cut a deal?’

Stella tapped a thoughtful finger on her lips.

‘I know an excellent textile mill in Bologna who might do something with us, but we’ll have to go out to Italy for some heavyweight schmoozing. Then there’s manufacturing – we won’t be able to do it here. Gosh, there’s so much to think about! Where were you thinking of showing?’

‘Paris would be incredible, but that’s unlikely given our lack of track record and the time span. Anyway, I think we should show in London. Given the heritage of the brand it feels only right. I’ve already spoken to the British Fashion Council. We’ll get a professional show-producer, top models …’

Stella listened to Emma’s words, but had already begun to drift off into her own thoughts. What Emma was suggesting … it was every designer’s dream, but did she really have what it took to pull it off? Tom Ford had transformed Gucci in practically one season with his legendary 1995 collection of sexy velvet hip-huggers and satin shirts but he had both a gargantuan talent and a steely commercial brain. There were days when Stella thought she was just playing at the fashion business. Before Emma came along she never had anyone to cheerlead her ambitions. Her talks with her mother never got beyond lightweight chit-chat and the only time her father had ever pushed her to do anything was when he was trying to get her to follow him into sculpture. As if reading her thoughts Emma looked her directly in the eye.

‘I know what a great job you can do with it. Look what you did with the accessories line in a matter of weeks.’