44. Adam

44

ADAM

S he doesn’t seem to believe me, and it pisses me off.

‘It’s so easy to feel intimidated by all this,’ I continue, waving my hand around the space. ‘But it’s just a snapshot of where a business stands at a certain point in time. Your journey may not be on the same timeline as his, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get there.’

‘Sometimes I think I’m delusional,’ she admits. ‘Like, what the hell am I even doing? It feels as though I’m just trying to stay afloat every day. What’s the point? The company’s maxed out its credit cards. It feels like such an effort to keep it going, and I’m so focused on survival that there’s no oxygen for growth.’

I release her face and take her hand. ‘That is very, very standard for a business of your size. There’s this toxic rhetoric out there that things should be easy, or that a company’s viability rests on how quickly it can grow, but that’s bullshit. I meant what I said about circumstances. Vega has a lot of advantages that you don’t.

‘But I hear what you say about feeling deluded, too. If a business is a dead horse, I firmly believe you should walk away.’ I pause, squeezing her hand. ‘Forget the bills and the struggles for a moment. What’s your vision for the brand? Why did you start it, and do you still stand by that vision?’

She sighs. ‘I felt that there was a place for a beautiful British brand that has craftsmanship and sustainability at its core. I don’t want to have to cut corners or compromise on the craft or the ethics—that’s why I positioned it in a less price-sensitive part of the market.’

I nod. ‘Smart.’

‘And I know there are better designers than me out there. I know there are people who are more commercial, who have more celebrity relationships and are just better at hustling… But I truly believe in my bones that our aesthetic has a place in the market. And I really, really believe in our prints. I think they have so much potential beyond clothing.’

‘Like what?’ I ask, my interest piqued. ‘Pull up your Instagram, will you?’

She rummages around in that enormous, grotty handbag and extracts her phone, pulling up Gossamer’s Instagram account before handing the phone to me. I scroll through the feed. It’s nowhere near as curated as Vega’s or most of our brands’ feeds—clearly, she doesn’t obsess endlessly over the grid layout like Vega’s team does—but it’s stunning, an endless palate of pastels, and delicate florals, and exquisite detailing. If I was a woman, I’d fall into a drooling, swooning heap over this stuff.

‘So that’s the wisteria you said you spotted,’ she says, pointing, ‘and we have a peony print this season, too.’

The feed shows me what my glimpse of that dress in her studio didn’t: the up-close detail of the prints. They’re hand-painted and dreamy, with daubes of watercolour so well printed that they feel like original canvases.

‘They’re stunning,’ I say .

‘I love them. And I really think they’d do so well for other lines, too, especially home furnishings. Curtains, wallpaper, tablecloths—even place mats. They could also be amazing as yoga gear.’

‘I agree.’ They’re British and romantic and feminine and highly commercial. ‘Have you ever approached anyone? Athleisure brands? The big home furnishing guys like Osborne and Little? Licencing the prints could be a great form of passive income for you.’

She shrugs. ‘Not yet. I can’t imagine anyone would be interested—we don’t have the clout to collaborate with a big brand.’

‘You don’t need clout when you have aspirational prints like these. I can put it to Elysian if you like?’ Our yoga brand is still smaller than I’d like, far smaller than the giants like Alo and Sweaty Betty, but we’re pumping serious money into it, and it’s gaining a reputation for being the brand of choice among the most discerning yogis, to the point that we’re looking at opening a Santa Monica popup next spring. Collaborating with a truly British womenswear brand could be a nice hook to test out stateside.’

She gasps, then stops herself. ‘No way. I don’t want favours just because we’re sleeping together.’

I laugh. ‘If you think I’d let my dick get in the way of my business brain, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m a commercial animal.’ I lean in. ‘This is what I’m talking about when I mention circumstances. Vega has tonnes of unfair advantages. I’m giving you one—an in with a brand that could be a wonderful partner for you. It’s just an intro. No skin off my nose. It’ll be up to you and your fabrics to seal the deal, not me.

‘When these kinds of doors crack open, you elbow your way the fuck through them, got it? That’s the difference between you and brands like Vega. They’ve been given opportunities. You haven’t, necessarily. That changes now.’

She’s still looking uncertain, and it makes me want to kiss her and shake her. ‘Don’t be too British about this,’ I warn her. ‘You’ve got to hustle.’

She nods. ‘I know you’re right. Okay, if you’re sure, then thank you. I’d love an intro.’

‘Good. I’ll set up a coffee with Claudette, the founder. She’ll like you, and I think you’ll like her. And speaking of hustle, how many of your suppliers have you managed to renegotiate with so far?’

She squirms. ‘Two or three.’

‘Keep trying. There are no silver bullets, okay? This industry is fucking brutal. Anyone who thinks it’s fun or glamorous is deluded. You take the breaks when you get them: introductions, cash flow reprieves… That’s how you buy yourself enough time to make an impact.’

She nods again, more decisively this time. ‘I know you’re right. I keep wondering if I’m missing something.’

‘I’ll take a more detailed look at your numbers, if you like,’ I offer. This is the side of incubating start-ups that I love. While I adore luxury products, it’s the numbers, the growth prospects, the trouble-shooting, that get my neurons firing. It all feels like one giant puzzle. And now that my business interests are so broad and my perspective birds-eye at best, I love getting myself stuck into the weeds of small businesses.

Her eyes are wide. ‘Really? That would be great, but you’ve done so much already. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.’

Jesus Christ. I pull her up onto my lap, sighing heavily into her glossy, lavender-scented hair. ‘Sweetheart. If you consumed every single minute of my day, I’d be a happy man. This is your baby—how can I not be interested in it? You’ve built a beautiful brand. Let’s at least see if we can find it some oxygen.’

I don’t mention my ulterior motive. I’d like to see if her business is viable from an investment perspective. I may not be able to hope for a romantic future with Nat—her family would never, ever stand for that—but perhaps we could have a business relationship. I shove aside the thought that it’s a terrible idea to even consider investing in the business of a woman I’m fucking, because I’m not interested in those kinds of thoughts right now.

If I’m right, Gossamer has real potential. I suspect the debts she’s so worried about would be pretty small for us to swallow, and she wouldn’t need a tonne of capital up-front—mid-six figures, maybe, to fund an increase in production and get some new projects off the ground.

As for Natalie herself, I’d back her every day of the week. Not only is she the perfect representative for her classy, feminine brand, but she’s articulate and smart and creative and focused and relentlessly disciplined. While the latter makes me worry for her wellbeing, she’s every inch the kind of founder I love to back.

The more I think about it, the more my gut tells me she could do great things with this brand with the right kind of financial help, personnel support, and mentoring.

I have another test up my sleeve, and this is a fun one.

‘If it makes you feel better, you can help me in return,’ I murmur into her hair.

She turns and grins at me. ‘Is help code for blow job ?’

‘Not in this instance, though I’m not above accepting sexual bribes. But while we’re here, tell me what you think of Vega.’

Her eyebrows wing up. ‘The man or the brand? ’

‘Both, though I’m more interested in the latter.’

She slides off my lap and turns in a circle, gazing at what she sees. ‘Well, you know the brand a lot better than me.’

‘Just like you know Gossamer better than I do. But an outside perspective brings its own value. And you’ve already admitted to stalking the brand, so I suspect you have many, many thoughts. I don’t want nice, polite Natalie. I want scathing Natalie. Like how you were with me when we first met.’

That gets a laugh. ‘Fine. So you want feedback other than that he seems to be a complete twat?’

‘That’s a given,’ I deadpan.

‘Okay, then. Well, for a high-end label, your total lack of sustainability strategy—or messaging—is a disgrace.’

I cross my arms. ‘Go on.’

‘There are many people who can’t afford to vote with their wallets when it comes to the sustainability of their clothes or their food or anything else. But your clients can.’

‘I agree.’

She sets off across the room, and I follow her, amused by her vehemence and interested to see where this leads. She stops at one of the cutting tables and points underneath. ‘I mean, stone-washed denim? Really?’

‘It was for an Eighties collection, I think,’ I protest weakly.

‘Yes it was. Last season. And there was no suggestion at all on your socials that the denim came from overstock. Have you any idea how much water this would have used?’

I have some idea. Too much. And she’s completely right.

‘What would you do if you were his CEO?’ I ask her.

She leans against the cutting table. ‘Give him iron-clad boundaries to work with. He wants to use stone-washed denim, he gets his team to source excess rolls from somewhere. Don’t tell me you guys lack the manpower.’

‘We do, but it’s harder at his scale,’ I argue. ‘We need to be able to ensure consistency of supply.’

‘I get that, but frankly it’s a lazy argument.’ She scratches at her forehead. ‘There’s this quote I read once that still haunts me. The last thing the planet needs is yet another sustainable fashion brand. I lost sleep over that one. But I do my best. That’s one of the reasons we’ve grown more slowly—we spent a lot of time focusing on becoming a B-Corp.’

I frown. ‘That’s a big undertaking for a company of your size.’ I’m not entirely sure it would have been the best use of her time or energy.

‘Yes, but we wanted to get the right learnings and processes in place before we scaled. Now that stuff is second nature. But you have a hell of a lot more infrastructure to help you work around those constraints, so the question is, why haven’t you?’

She’s glaring at me, and I fucking love it. This is the Natalie who first transfixed me, and the world doesn’t see enough of her.

‘The past few quarters since we acquired Vega have been about improving profitability,’ I admit. ‘I told you we’ve put some very strict parameters in place around what he can and can’t design, and what he can spend.’

‘Well, that’s lovely for your wallet, but all that tells me is that you have the perfect structure to implement even more controls,’ she argues. ‘He needs to be kept accountable. Look at that sequinned dress. I bet those are plastic sequins.’

‘Probably.’ I cringe inwardly, because I have no clue at all and I know she’s right—about the sequins and the rest of it.

She narrows her eyes at me. ‘It’s not okay, Adam. This is a big brand, and it’s only getting bigger. Make it part of his design framework, and your workflow, and your bloody marketing efforts, for God’s sake. Talk about it! But only when you’ve done the work to get the basics right. The days are gone where designers can design whatever the fuck they want with no regard for the true cost of their products.’

I grin broadly at her. ‘What else? Tell me.’