The Princeling of Nanjing (33 page)

BOOK: The Princeling of Nanjing
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COMING SOON
From House of Anansi Press
in January 2017

Read on for a preview of the next thrilling Ava Lee novel,
The Couturier of Milan

( 1 )

Ava Lee thought she knew London. She’d been there as a tourist and on business countless times. After nine months of owning part of a designer clothing line, she also thought she was beginning to understand the fashion industry. But three days into London Fashion Week, she felt far removed from any sense of her usual reality. When she voiced this feeling to May Ling Wong, her friend and business partner, May’s reaction was surprise.

“What are you talking about?” May said. “You’ve been the only calm one this week. Everyone else is running around like headless chickens, me included.”

“What you think is calmness is actually me not knowing how to react to so much chaos. Between preparations for the show, all the public relations activity, and the hosting of lunches and dinners for existing and potential customers, I’ve had more contact with people in my three days here than I’ve had over the past three months.”

“It does seem a bit mad, I admit, but according to our show director and the public relations people, it’s very typical for fashion week here, or any of the big four fashion weeks, for that matter.”

“What a crazy business,” Ava said. “New York, London, Milan, and Paris in four consecutive weeks, and twice every year. I don’t know how people survive it.”

“We’re thankful we got into even one of them. It isn’t easy for new designers to be accepted into the official part of the week.”

“Clark did graduate from Central Saint Martins,” Ava said, referring to the famous London design school.

“He does have contacts, thank goodness, but we still had to lobby.”

“I’ve been thinking that I should have arrived only the day before, as I did for the launch in Shanghai. Everything moved so fast there that I didn’t have time to feel out of place.”

“And what would we have done with Pang Fai? You’re the only reason she’s here.”

Pang Fai was the most talented and famous actress in Chinese cinema and had a massive following in Asia. Her films were now being screened in the West, and her fame there was on a rapid upswing. Her popularity had grown accordingly, and in the past few months she’d made many of the “Most Beautiful Women” and “Sexiest Women” lists in the West. Her decision to promote the PÖ line was a coup.

“She’s being paid well enough.”

“We both know that she’s never promoted any products, let alone a fashion designer, before. She only agreed to do it because of you, and she only came to London because of you. I don’t know what happened between you and her in Shanghai, but you certainly made an impact.”

Ava shrugged and then shivered. It was late February, and a cold, damp winter still had its grip on London. She and May Ling were standing outside the Corinthia Hotel waiting for their partner, Ava’s sister-in-law Amanda Yee, to join them for the taxi ride to the Shard, the tallest building in the European Union. There, in just over an hour, they were scheduled to introduce their PÖ fashion line to the European market and the Western world.

Despite having already been featured on the cover of Hong Kong
Vogue
, and having had a remarkable initial selling season in Asia, PÖ wasn’t a known brand in Europe or North America. Their hope was that the launch at the Shard would correct that, and Pang Fai was an important part of their strategy.

While it wasn’t uncommon for actresses to affiliate themselves with specific fashion designers and to attend shows to give support, Pang was going several steps further. Although no one outside the PÖ inner circle knew it, she was going to model in the show. And that was even more remarkable because Pang zealously guarded her privacy and was rarely seen in public outside of film promotion activities.

Ava had originally come up with the idea of having Pang Fai promote the PÖ brand and had secured the actress’s agreement. But the decision had been made to withhold any public mention of her involvement until London Fashion Week. Instead, a stealth campaign was set in motion by the PÖ partners and their British and Chinese PR companies. Hints were dropped on social media and in the local press about the possibility of Pang Fai’s presence and participation in London. The fashion and style magazines were quietly contacted and told to expect a major surprise at the PÖ launch. When they asked if the rumours about Pang were true, no one from PÖ either confirmed or denied the possibility, fuelling even greater interest and making the brand’s debut one of the most anticipated events at London Fashion Week.

Ava believed in luck, but she knew that one of the key elements in good fortune is timing. It seemed to her that things had fallen into place for the PÖ business in an almost preordained way. She had managed to secure Pang Fai’s agreement just before the actress’s profile began to rise in the West. Asia was now the fastest-growing market for the luxury brand companies, and there was an increasing Asian presence on runways and in magazines. A few Chinese designers had made an impact in the West, but there was still the anticipation that a star was going to emerge. Those factors, the PÖ launch, and the promise of Pang Fai’s presence had galvanized public attention, and Ava couldn’t help but feel that the stars were aligned to make PÖ an international hit.

“She’s going to cause a sensation,” May said. “I just hope it doesn’t distract from the clothes.”

We’ll find out soon enough
, Ava thought as she checked her watch. Amanda was running a little late and Ava hoped there wasn’t a last-minute crisis.

Amanda, May Ling, and Ava owned an investment company called the Three Sisters. Amanda, still in her late twenties, handled the day-to-day operations from their office in Hong Kong. May Ling, who was in her mid-forties but looked at least ten years younger, lived in the city of Wuhan in central China and acted as senior advisor and strategist. She and Ava had put in most of the money and were majority shareholders. Ava’s role in the business wasn’t as clearly defined but was no less important. Since the company’s inception her involvement had cut across finance, marketing, planning, and the building of relationships.

The Three Sisters had put money into a furniture manufacturing company in Borneo, a warehouse and distribution firm that operated out of Shanghai and Beijing, a Hong Kong trading business, and a start-up company that was making revolutionary — or so they hoped — carbon-fibre containers for ocean and air freight shipments. They had decided to gamble on the talents of Clark Po by putting more than $10 million into his Shanghai-based fashion line.

Despite the Asian location of all the businesses, Ava still lived in Toronto. The distance and time difference between the partners didn’t present any real difficulties. None of them worked regular eight-hour days, and they were able to communicate well enough by phone, text, email, and Skype. It helped that, in addition to being partners, the women were extremely close and shared an extraordinary level of trust.

“I’m sorry for being late,” a voice said.

Ava turned to see Amanda rushing towards them.

“Was there a problem?” she asked.

“No, just the opposite,” Amanda said breathlessly. “Chi-Tze called to tell me that the event site is already buzzing. They’re expecting a full house, and the PR people are predicting that Pang Fai’s appearance is going to generate outstanding press coverage.”

“Did Chi-Tze mention how Pang Fai is doing?”

“She’s as cool as can be. The other girls, especially the Chinese ones, aren’t quite so composed. The fact that they’re going to be sharing the runway with her might have something to do with it.”

“Do we know what she will be wearing?” Ava asked.

“I don’t have a clue, and neither does Chi-Tze or Gillian. Clark and the show director have been huddling together for days, and Pang Fai was with them yesterday. None of them are talking about what she’s going to wear or when she’ll make her entrance.”

“We should be going,” May interrupted.

They stepped into a taxi and started the trip that would take them across London Bridge to Southwark, on the south side of the Thames River. Ava gazed out of the window. The last time she’d been to London she had been working for the debt-collection company she ran with her old partner, Uncle. They had worked together for more than ten years, chasing scam artists and thieves around the world. Uncle had died more than a year ago, but he was still a part of her life, often appearing in her dreams and memories. She had started the transition into the Three Sisters partially at his insistence, just before his death.

“I don’t know if I’m more nervous or excited,” Amanda said as they neared the bridge.

“How is Clark?” Ava asked

“He’s a mess.”

“Good. He was the same in Shanghai, and look how well that turned out.”

“Is Elsa here?” May asked, referring to Elsa Ngan, a friend of Amanda’s and an editor at Hong Kong
Vogue
. Elsa had been one of PÖ’s first fans.

“Yes, she said there was no way she was going to miss our introduction to the West,” Amanda said. “And, by the way, she told me that Carrie Song flew in from Hong Kong yesterday.”

“You say that as if it’s unusual. I thought Carrie would have attended these fashion weeks every year.”

“Apparently not. Normally it’s the head buyers from Lane Crawford and Joyce who come to the shows.”

“Thank god for her support,” May said. “Getting probably the best retailer of women’s clothes in Hong Kong and Asia to carry our line was such a coup.”

“Carrying them and selling them are two different things,” Amanda said. “I have no doubt that Carrie is here only because we’ve been selling very well.”

“That and the fact that she still feels she owes Ava a debt of gratitude,” May said.

“Are you still having doubts about the setting for the show?” Ava asked, slightly uncomfortable about discussing her relationship with Song. She preferred to believe that it was the quality of Clark’s clothes, not her
guanxi
, that had been the determining factor in Song’s decision to take on the line.

“No. I was thinking about it last night and I believe the director we hired to create the show is being honest when he says it’s the coolest venue he’s ever worked in.”

“Clark loves it,” Amanda said.

The show was to be staged on a vacant floor more than halfway up the eighty-seven-storey Shard. With its floor-to-ceiling windows as a dramatic backdrop, the venue had been converted into a theatre with a specially constructed stage and a U-shaped runway extending more than thirty metres. Three rows of seats were placed on each side of the runway for the press, photographers, bloggers, retailers, and purchasing groups. The front-row seats were reserved for the major buyers and people of huge influence in the fashion world.

“It is dramatic,” Ava said. “And those silk warlord banners we used in Shanghai are going to look fantastic in that light.”

“We debated about using them again,” Amanda said. “But they worked so well in Shanghai, and we have almost an entirely different audience here, so the director decided to do it.”

“And did you finally decide what to do about music?” May asked.

“We’re going with Cantopop — loud and upbeat,” Amanda said.

They reached the Thames, crossed the bridge, and in a few minutes found themselves on London Bridge Street looking up at the glass-encased Shard.

“This is crazy,” Ava said, as they got out of the taxi and stepped into a crowd of people. “They can’t all be here for the launch.”

“No, this is a busy building most days,” Amanda said. “Follow me.”

It took them ten minutes to work their way through the lobby and into an elevator. When they exited, they walked straight into a throng of photographers who were taking shots of people posing on the red carpet against a backdrop emblazoned with the PÖ logo. Ava didn’t recognize any of them, but Amanda whispered, “The woman with the red hair is a senior editor at
Elle
.” Another crowd was gathered near the door to the venue. Ava had never seen a larger collection of well-dressed people. Inside, at least a third of the seats were already taken, mainly those in the second and third rows. Ava, Amanda, and May had been offered front-row seats, but May had been quick to say no.

“We don’t need our egos stroked,” she said. “I’d rather have someone who can help make our company a success sit there.”

“Do you want to go backstage and wish everyone good luck?” Amanda asked as they stepped inside.

“No,” Ava said. “We didn’t in Shanghai. I don’t want us to jinx them.”

“Then I guess that’s a no from me as well,” May said with a laugh.

They took their seats and looked anxiously around. The runway ran from the far end of the room towards the main entrance. The U-shaped design had the added advantage of enabling a maximum number of front-row seats. Five minutes before the show was scheduled to start, and there was hardly an empty seat. Ava looked at the front-row centre seats and saw they were full. She breathed a sigh of relief. The director had made it clear that if some of the major buyers and media people were running late, the show wouldn’t start until they got there.

“I saw Carrie and Elsa arrive,” May said. “Besides them, I don’t know a soul.”

“We’re not on home turf anymore,” Ava said.

The lights dimmed and Jacky Cheung’s voice filled the room. Ava felt a slight breeze, and the banners they had brought from Shanghai began to flutter.

Ava was sitting between May and Amanda, and when the first model appeared, she reached for their hands. For the next twenty minutes, she didn’t let go.

After seeing the show in Shanghai, Ava was familiar with the rhythm of the models appearing seconds apart. She knew they were going to show about forty outfits, or “exits,” as the director called them, but she quickly lost count. The show was tightly paced, and because of that, Ava noticed that instead of one outfit being singularly prominent, it was the general impression that stayed with her. In this case, she was taken by how beautifully cut everything was, how vibrant the linens — Clark Po’s favourite medium — and how well he straddled East and West, with designs that hinted at a Western sensibility but still had distinctivly Eastern touches such as cheongsam and bell collars and voluminous cuffs.

BOOK: The Princeling of Nanjing
6.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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