‘What will the models wear?’ asked Annabelle.
‘Towels,’ mumbled Oliver through a mouthful of custard cream.
‘Well, sustainability is a huge push at the moment, so all of the clothes will be second-hand. And they want real people as the models.’
‘What do you mean, real people?’ asked Oliver.
‘As in, not models.’
‘So, like, editors? Designers?’ asked Rose.
‘No, more like influencers. Or, you know, “content creators” or whatever they like to be called these days,’ Minnie said, using her fingers as quotation marks. ‘I haven’t dared tell Millicent or Simon yet – that can be Jasper’s job.’
Like the majority of Firehouse’s senior staff, Millicent and Simon had a severe aversion to all things to do with social media influencers. Everything influencers represented repulsed them. It wasn’t that they didn’t understand what they did (although Rose suspected some of the older editors still didn’t know how to use Instagram), it was more the fact that flocks of them had started replacing editors as authorities in the industry, usurping the roles and appropriating the skills the editors had spent decades honing. Overnight, influencers had started popping up in the front row at fashion shows, while top editors were relegated to the second or third rows. This had led to a quiet backlash within the industry; one editor at MODE wrote a scathing op-ed about the rise of influencers, calling them ‘vapid mannequins’. The editor was forced to issue an apology on Twitter.
‘Will we try to get the Its to walk?’ Rose asked.
‘No,’ said Minnie. ‘The company wants fresh faces on the runway. I mean, we’ll obviously invite the Its to the launch for coverage, but they won’t walk in the show.’
‘Okay,’ she nodded. ‘I met Polly Jenkins last night.’
‘Oh, did you? Was she nice?’ asked Annabelle.
‘She was pretty rude, actually.’
‘Shock,’ said Oliver, rolling his eyes.
‘I went to school with her younger sister,’ added Annabelle.
‘She asked me for drugs.’
‘Did you give her some?’ asked Oliver. ‘I saw that she was hanging out with Milo at the afterparty.’
Rose felt her cheeks burning.
‘Oliver, enough,’ Minnie snapped. ‘I’ll handle logistics in terms of press and media attendance. Oliver, I want you to work with Liz on booking VIP guests, and Rose, find me influencers to pitch as models. Ideally ones the Firehouse editors don’t hate, so definitely no one selling charcoal toothpaste or anything like that.’
‘Can I help with the VIPs?’ asked Annabelle, looking everyone in the eye to remind them she was still there.
‘No,’ Minnie replied quickly. ‘Sorry, it’s just that …’ She took a deep breath, thinking about how to phrase her next sentence. ‘The VIP publicists adore Oliver. So we need to put him front and centre.’
Oliver let out a smug giggle.
‘I’ll do some research on influencers,’ quipped Rose.
‘How’s my favourite press team?’ boomed a familiarly mellifluous voice from the corridor.
‘Hello, Jasper,’ smiled Minnie as he entered the meeting room, right arm swanning out to one side as if he’d just stepped onto a stage. Famed for his colourful tailoring – always bright, always bespoke – he was dressed head-to-toe in a crimson three-piece suit, sunlight from the nearby windows bouncing off his bald head. His cheeks were flushed, probably from sinking six martinis at lunch.
Rose and the rest of the team smiled and said hello. Oliver grinned in the corner, knowing what was coming.
‘And how’s my favourite press officer?’ Jasper beamed at him, illuminating Oliver’s face like a literal spotlight. The bizarre bromance he had somehow established with Jasper was nauseating. Minnie always assured Rose it was just because of the celebrity PR teams. Oliver’s relationship with them meant he was the person bringing big names to the company parties, which in turn meant he was ultimately the person convincing advertisers to spend more of their money on Firehouse brands.
‘I’ve just been telling everyone about StandFirst,’ said Minnie.
‘Ah, yes. Our new little project to keep the kiddos interested in us old fogeys! Splendid stuff. Splendid.’
‘Have you seen all of the coverage from last night?’ asked Oliver.
‘Oh yes,’ he replied. ‘Excellent work, Oliver. And everyone else, too. That Milo is such a charmer, isn’t he? I had a wonderful chat with him about my vegetable patch. He knows an awful lot about allotments and things. How did you manage that, dear?’ Jasper was looking at Oliver like he was a six-year-old boy.
‘That one was actually all thanks to Rose,’ said Minnie, nodding towards her. Rose could practically feel the heat of anger radiating off Oliver, who had passive-aggressively lifted up one of the ears of his headphones and pointedly inserted it. She had never spoken directly to Jasper but presumed and hoped he knew who she was because of her regular coverage emails – and the fact that she worked with Minnie.
‘Wonderful work, Roisin,’ he said, nodding at her.
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘It’s Rose actually.’
‘Hm.’ Jasper paused to consider this. ‘Delightful. Annabelle darling, how are you getting on?’ he asked, his voice softer now.
‘Very good, thank you. Everyone is being very kind to me,’ Annabelle replied, smiling gratefully.
‘Splendid. Just splendid. Minnie, let’s have another catch-up in a few days.’
‘Of course, Jasper. Speak then.’
‘Oh, and Oliver?’
‘Yes?’
