‘Erm. Yes. Yes, good idea. I’ll ring you back.’
‘Talk to you soon.’ There was a teasing note in Amy’s voice that I tried to ignore as I brought Charlie’s contact details up on my phone. Did I phone or text? Was phoning him a bit too much like asking him on a date? A little over-familiar? Or was texting more familiar than phoning? Oh, crap. For God’s sake, it was just a thank you dinner with friends. I rolled my eyes at myself and began texting.
Hi Charlie. Thanks again for the help yesterday. As you won’t take payment, I’d like to invite you and Marcus and Amy out to dinner as a way of saying thanks to you all. I wondered about tonight as it’s such a nice day, but obviously it’s very short notice and completely understand if you have other plans. Thanks. Libby x
I took away the kiss. Then put it back. Then took it away before dropping a swear word in my head and putting it back in. I’d given Charlie a big hug in grateful thanks and relief when he was leaving and had a feeling he already had my character sussed to a pretty good degree anyway. I pressed send and put the phone down on the coffee table.
Picking up my tea, and a chocolate biscuit, I began reading an article on a new clothing company that had been set up along the lines of People Tree. I’d always been interested in this area of fashion and beauty. The concept and realities behind ‘fast fashion’ had been niggling away at the back of my mind for a while and then the Rana Plaza tragedy happened. Shocked, I’d sat and watched the rescue efforts on television, the friends and relatives holding photographs of their loved ones, waiting, hoping, sobbing. Their pain had been so tangible, so heart-rending that I hadn’t been able to stop my own tears streaming. When the news broke that a woman had been pulled out alive seventeen days after the disaster, I’d felt more relief and joy than I’d ever thought possible for someone I didn’t even know.
I’d read up some more on it all and discovered that the workers had already told the management about the huge cracks appearing in the building, but their concerns had been ignored and they’d been forced to go back in. I’d literally felt ill. All of that loss of life, that suffering, just so that richer countries could have access to cheap clothes and a tiny percentage of people could rake in obscene amounts of profit. And yet all of it could have been avoided.
I’d begun looking into things more, finding out who in the fashion industry was trying to help change things, and which companies were supportive of that change.
As my blog began to grow, I made this aspect part of my USP – the clothes I featured were pretty much all from companies who were completely transparent in their dealings, and could prove that their clothing wasn’t made in sweatshops and that they had paid farmers a fair price for their materials. I was all for promoting the resurgence in home sewing too and was lucky enough to have a very talented friend, Tim, with a fledgling design and dressmaking business. Sitting chatting over coffee one day, we got to talking about how the designs from the catwalk filtered down through the industry until they hit the high street, and how well the character of Miranda had explained this in the filmThe Devil Wears Prada, completely burning the character of Andy in the process! Tim told me how once he’d been asked to make pretty much a direct copy of Kate Middleton’s wedding dress, with three weeks to the big day, when the bride had changed her mind about the dress she’d already bought after she’d watched the royal wedding on television.
‘Of course, there are knock-offs being sewn up in factories all over the world within hours of anything like that being broadcast,’ Tim mused. ‘And I’m sure there were plenty of independent people like me being asked to do the same. Although I would hope most of them had longer than I was given.’
‘You’re amazing. I could never do that.’
‘Yes, you could. You already have an eye for it. I told you I’d teach you.’
‘Be careful, or I might take you up on that one day.’
‘I live in hope!’ Tim replied, a beating motion with his hand over his heart.
‘Twit,’ I said, laughing, knowing he was teasing. Mostly because Tim and I had the same taste in men.
‘But you’re on to something.’
‘I am?’ Tim asked, unsure.
‘Yes! Look, there’s all these gorgeous creations coming down the catwalk, but for most people they’re completely off the scale, budget-wise. And eventually, versions will appear that are more budget friendly but at what cost elsewhere?’
‘Where are you going with all this?’
‘An idea for your blog!’
‘My blog?’ He frowned.
‘Yes.’
‘But that’s just for fun, really,’ Tim replied.
‘It can still be for fun, but as a business you need a good website. Having a great blog will help draw readers and potential clients to it. It could showcase your talents even more and build your following, which in turn will help grow your business.’
‘Spit it out, then!’
‘What about doing a feature when the fashion weeks come around? You pick one item from a show that you love and then recreate it – obviously with your own twist. Using the original piece as “inspiration only”.’ I made air quotes with my fingers up by the side of my head, which gave the impression of doing bunny ears more than anything else, but Tim got the idea.’
‘That’s not bad. I like it!’
I beamed happily.
‘On one condition.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I make it for you, and you wear it.’
