` “I love Moschino. It just screams, ‘You need me,’” he said as he sauntered beside me toward the escalator.
“I thought it screamed, ‘We don’t need you till you do something about your pitiful outfit,’” I replied. “I hope I can find something upstairs to help. I feel totally frumpy.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Sweetie.” He gestured and we stepped on side by side. “Those pumps are terrific. Anne Klein?”
“They are!” I made sure he realised I was checking out his impeccable attire. “And you know damn well they’re the only thing going for me.”
“You have plenty going for you. But I have to admit, your banker-on-a-spring-afternoon ensemble does not exactly scream Moschino brand.”
“At least I’m not representing them. No affiliation except admiration.”
“Oh, heartbreak! I’ve been trying to pick you up so I can get my foot in the fragrance door.”
We stepped off the escalator laughing. “I’m not a rep but I am a fragrance freelancer. Does that count?”
“You bet. I’m up here in women’s fashion and just the man for you. Of course, by coincidence—” He fanned his nose. “—I’d love, love to make the jump to fragrance.”
I shook his hand. “I’m Emma Paige. Do you have time for coffee after I, um, nose around?”
“Andrew Case and sweetie, if you’ve got connections in fragrance and you’ll let me spin you through some accessory displays up here, I’ve got time for coffee, or dinner, or our honeymoon.”
We met after work at my hotel bar and swapped war stories, from insane customers to incompetent department managers. I explained that my Chicago assignment covered the Michigan Avenue store plus three in area malls. After a little wine and a lot of brain storming, I left my newfound friend with newfound determination. Back in my room I crunched the numbers, thrilled I was able to carve out enough of my freelance funds for a lucrative weekly sum to entice Andrew. In less than twenty-four hours we sealed the deal. He’d work exclusively for the handful of luxury fragrance brands I was representing.
Customers loved Andrew and he loved them back. His flamboyance and humour lay on a solid foundation of drive and dedication to all customers. “Fragrance has no size,” became his mantra and he meant it. He sang my praises to the department and meant that, too.
Andrew rotated among the major retailers where he’d sell, run training sessions, and put on special events for sales growth. When I joined him every two or three weeks, we’d put on a blitz event where we’d double the fun, double the exposure, and more than triple the sales.
I arrived one week to discover he’d designed custom referral handouts that looked like lottery cards. We bribed sales people in Jewellery and Hosiery at opposite ends of the store to pass them out. This pushed customers to us and created massive foot traffic.
“We got ’em. Now what to do with them,” he replied to my compliment.
Next thing I knew he’d designed a catwalk style visual, complete with bright colours, music, and refreshments.
“Genius,” I exclaimed.
He spun me around. “You’re my muse, Emma Paige. I feel sure we’re twins separated at birth.”
Curious customers wandering in from other departments lingered. We offered them fragrance layering on their hands, a bowl to dip into scented shower gel, a finger massage with the body cream. Andrew spritzed the air and taught them how to properly wave an arm in order to catch and wear the ultimate well layered fragrance.
No matter they didn’t know the Moschino brand. We created a fantasy they wanted to be part of. When shoppers asked for scent advice, the Marshall Field’s clerks who made three percent on our sales, gestured to us or walked them over, happy to recommend our collection. Soon store employees followed me all over the floor, eager to take credit when I closed a sale before another clerk could seal it.
My 24/7 fevered determination paid off. I stunned my family by moving into a new luxury building in Forest Park. I loved the modern, cutting edge design, amenities Ethan and I’d never had, a few we didn’t know existed, and state of the art security covering my late and erratic hours during the long periods he
was gone. Cockroach days were history. Ethan could travel to and from a real home. My proudest achievement.
In the midst of applying Andrew’s techniques to my St. Louis territory, My pitcher returned with the cold from hell. Mornings I left Ethan propped on pillows with tea and toast. As my work days wound down, I handed pleased customers off to the closest sales woman so I could drag myself home and heat up Grandma O’Farrell’s chicken soup recipe.
I schlepped meds from the pharmacy and kept him in clean sheets. Once he’d buried himself back under the covers at night, I slept on the couch and barked more orders than usual at my local mall anchor stores.
Ethan’s gratitude and stuffy, “Babe, you’re the best,” stoked my fury at his horrendous childhood neglect. Even my poor excuse for a mother was ever-ready with a cold washcloth and her never-fail whiskey-honey-lemon sore throat concoction.
Six days later I dropped my sneeze-free husband at the airport and headed to Dillard’s. My local Moschino display of bath products, already displayed on the least prominent glass case, had been relegated to the shelves behind the counter.
“Someone’s moved my samples,” I muttered to the middle-aged woman leaning on the glass.
“That’s not allowed. I’m sure you’re mistaken,” she said.
“I know the rotation.” I returned a handful of shower gels to the glass top. “You really think I’d do this to my client?”
“What I really think is you bust in here with your no-name merchandise and think you can do whatever you like.”
“Hey!”
“We’re tired of your la-di-dah ‘Look at me’ attitude.”
“It’s not ‘Look at me,’ it’s ‘Look at my product.’” Vickie Spaulding’s warning voice filled my head. I took a breath. “Okay, I’m aggressive. I admit I don’t always follow protocol.”
“But you win, too, Shannon. I’m not the one writing up sales.”
“It’s Sharon and neither the hell am I. We all know you favour Carol and Tina.”
Two weeks later I was back in Chicago giving Andrew an earful as we entered our favourite pub. “—and I swear I don’t favour anybody. I don’t even know Carol from Tina. In every retail store I visit, my priority’s connecting to people. Okay, I admit I want to be known for delivering results, but Sharon’s got the whole department fucking hating me.”
He minced around me as we took a table. “Now, now, we don’t use obscenities, Mrs Paige.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“Neither is learning diplomacy. Some rules you don’t break. I’ve been at this retail game a long time.”
