Guilty Pleasures. Tasmina Perry

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      ‘That’s right,’ said Ruan.

      ‘It’s an elegant bag for our existing customer-base,’ said Emma as diplomatically as she could. ‘But that customer-base is ageing. We’re seen as a traditional company. Too traditional.’

      ‘You’re saying that people don’t want our merchandise?’ snapped Roger. His tone was sharp and defensive.

      ‘Roger, I respect your experience but we have to look at the figures ruthlessly,’ said Emma. ‘Milford’s sales and profits are on a steep downwards turn and yet the high-end accessories market is booming. You can blame marketing if you like, but the buck has to stop at the product.’

      Roger barked out a hollow laugh.

      ‘Since when have you been an expert in accessories design?’ he said. ‘I thought Cassandra was the style guru in our family.’

      ‘I’m not an expert on fashion, no,’ she said candidly. ‘But I do know about business and I know about the people who can afford super-luxury products. They’re a cash-rich, time-poor demographic. Women who can afford £2,000 handbags have busy lives. They want bags that are beautiful and functional, not stiff and formal. They want bags that make them feel sexy. Lifestyle statements. We need sleek, discreet luggage that can go from the airport to the boardroom. We need to update our products for the new millennium.’

      She moved the Rebecca bag to one side and opened her laptop which was connected to one of the video screens in the wall. She pressed a key and a huge image of a Hermès ‘Birkin’ bag appeared.

      ‘We sold 55 Rebecca bags last year,’ said Emma. ‘Hermès on the other hand has a waiting list of up to five years for Birkins and Kelly bags.’

      ‘We’re well aware of the competition,’ said Roger dismissively.

      ‘And why does everyone want to buy into Hermès?’ she asked, turning her gaze from Roger to Abby. She needed support, she needed confirmation that what she was saying was right.

      ‘Well, um, they’re beautiful bags. They’re entirely hand-crafted using the highest quality of workmanship,’ said Abby cautiously.

      ‘And they’re pitched higher than other companies in the sector,’ added Ruan. ‘More expensive, more elite. They manage to be both classic and fashionable at the same time and, well, they just have a magic that everyone wants to buy into.’

      Emma smiled and nodded. At least she had managed to get two people to understand what she was saying, even if they were only kowtowing to their new boss.

      ‘And that’s exactly where we should be aiming Milford,’ said Emma firmly.

      Roger laughed.

      ‘Well, if our problem is a lack of sales, shouldn’t we be pursuing a policy of more inclusive luxury to increase sales?’ he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

      Emma took out another pile of papers from her leather folder.

      ‘I have had this faxed through from a ex-colleague of mine at Price Donahue. She’s an expert in the luxury sector.’

      Emma began passing the crisp white documents down the table. Thank goodness for Cameron, she thought.

      ‘Her analysis of the luxury goods market is that the sector is becoming devalued. When so many designer goods are now made in China, the very top end of the market, the growing numbers of high-net worth individuals, want a return to traditional craftsmanship. With that in mind I believe we need to be more exclusive, we need to be right at the very top end, the most luxurious on the market. We don’t want to be in the business of churning out ‘it-bags’. We want to make heirlooms for fashionable women.’

      Emma stood and walked over to the video screen which was now showing a black and white photograph of a white-coated artisan bent over a work-bench, making tiny holes in the leather enabling a bag to be hand-stitched.

      ‘We need to get back to this. Gorgeous design and beautiful craftsmanship. Ruan, after this meeting can we discuss reverting production to hand-stitching?’

      Her mother was laughing gently.

      ‘Darling, I know you’re only trying to help but you really don’t know anything at all about the company. We’ve just spent thousands putting in the new machines to increase productivity.’

      Emma stared back at her mother, her lips pursed.

      ‘As it happens, I do know about the factory machines and every other part of the company,’ she said, her anger making her rush her words. ‘I have been over every inch of the company books and I know that money has been wasted on poor decisions in every area. That doesn’t mean we should continue to do so.’

      ‘This is preposterous,’ said Roger slamming his hand on the table. ‘Anthony?’ he said looking over to the lawyer. ‘Must we endure this, this … piffle?’

      ‘Roger, please. Calm down,’ interrupted Emma. ‘This is not personal, it is simply what needs to be done to save this company from going under.’

      ‘Emma, show some respect to your uncle!’ said Virginia sternly. ‘How dare you speak to him like that!’

      ‘I think perhaps we need a short break?’ said Anthony, quickly fiddling with his glasses.

      ‘Fine,’ said Emma, gathering her papers. ‘I will be in Saul’s office. Sorry, my office.’ And she walked out, her head held high, but her heart sinking.

      ‘This is totally outrageous,’ shouted Roger storming into the office, just as Emma was sitting down. ‘Are you deliberately trying to humiliate me in front of everybody?’ he said, leaning over the desk and glaring at her.

      Emma was taken aback by the force of his fury, but she felt protected by Saul’s desk between them and she was tired of being bullied, especially by Roger.

      ‘I don’t mean any of this as a personal attack, Roger,’ she said, her voice cold. ‘But the business is on its knees. I saw the designs for the Autumn/Winter line and my gut feeling is that we’re going to have to go again with them.’

      ‘Go again! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with them,’ he spluttered. ‘What exactly do you propose we do instead?’

      Emma looked at him, her eyes narrow. She had made the decision about what she was about to say the moment she had left the Milford shop.

      ‘I propose we get a new creative director.’

      ‘But, but – I am in charge of design,’ he said, panic in his voice.

      ‘Roger, we can discuss this later.’

      ‘We can discuss this in court!’ he bellowed, marching towards the door.

      ‘Roger, please.’

      ‘Please? Please? That’s all you can say?’ he shouted, turning back, the fury blazing in his eyes. ‘You come in here with your prissy little business school theories with zero experience in the real world and start telling us that a business we’ve been running for decades is worthless. СКАЧАТЬ