Page 73 of Unbind

She rummages around in that enormous, grotty handbag and extracts her phone, pulling up Gossamer’s Instagram account before handing the phone to me. I scroll through the feed. It’s nowhere near as curated as Vega’s or most of our brands’ feeds—clearly, she doesn’t obsess endlessly over the grid layout like Vega’s team does—but it’s stunning, an endless palate of pastels, and delicate florals, and exquisite detailing. If I was a woman, I’d fall into a drooling, swooning heap over this stuff.

‘So that’s the wisteria you said you spotted,’ she says, pointing, ‘and we have a peony print this season, too.’

The feed shows me what my glimpse of that dress in her studio didn’t: the up-close detail of the prints. They’re hand-painted and dreamy, with daubes of watercolour so well printed that they feel like original canvases.

‘They’re stunning,’ I say.

‘I love them. And I really think they’d do so well for other lines, too, especially home furnishings. Curtains, wallpaper, tablecloths—even place mats. They could also be amazing as yoga gear.’

‘I agree.’ They’re British and romantic and feminine and highly commercial. ‘Have you ever approached anyone? Athleisure brands? The big home furnishing guys like Osborne and Little? Licencing the prints could be a great form of passive income for you.’

She shrugs. ‘Not yet. I can’t imagine anyone would be interested—we don’t have the clout to collaborate with a big brand.’

‘You don’t need clout when you have aspirational prints like these. I can put it to Elysian if you like?’ Our yoga brand is still smaller than I’d like, far smaller than the giants like Alo and Sweaty Betty, but we’re pumping serious money into it, and it’s gaining a reputation for being the brand of choice among the most discerning yogis, to the point that we’re looking at opening a Santa Monica popup next spring. Collaborating with a truly British womenswear brand could be a nice hook to test out stateside.’

She gasps, then stops herself. ‘No way. I don’t want favours just because we’re sleeping together.’

I laugh. ‘If you think I’d let my dick get in the way of my business brain, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m a commercial animal.’ I lean in. ‘This is what I’m talking about when I mention circumstances. Vega has tonnes of unfair advantages. I’m giving you one—an in with a brand that could be a wonderful partner for you. It’s just an intro. No skin off my nose. It’ll be up to you and your fabrics to seal the deal, not me.

‘When these kinds of doors crack open, you elbow your way the fuck through them, got it?That’sthe differencebetween you and brands like Vega. They’ve been given opportunities. You haven’t, necessarily. That changes now.’

She’s still looking uncertain, and it makes me want to kiss her and shake her. ‘Don’t be too British about this,’ I warn her. ‘You’ve got to hustle.’

She nods. ‘I know you’re right. Okay, if you’re sure, then thank you. I’d love an intro.’

‘Good. I’ll set up a coffee with Claudette, the founder. She’ll like you, and I think you’ll like her. And speaking of hustle, how many of your suppliers have you managed to renegotiate with so far?’

She squirms. ‘Two or three.’

‘Keep trying. There are no silver bullets, okay? This industry is fucking brutal. Anyone who thinks it’s fun or glamorous is deluded. You take the breaks when you get them: introductions, cash flow reprieves… That’s how you buy yourself enough time to make an impact.’

She nods again, more decisively this time. ‘I know you’re right. I keep wondering if I’m missing something.’

‘I’ll take a more detailed look at your numbers, if you like,’ I offer. This is the side of incubating start-ups that I love. While I adore luxury products, it’s the numbers, the growth prospects, the trouble-shooting, that get my neurons firing. It all feels like one giant puzzle. And now that my business interests are so broad and my perspective birds-eye at best, I love getting myself stuck into the weeds of small businesses.

Her eyes are wide. ‘Really? That would be great, but you’ve done so much already. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.’

Jesus Christ. I pull her up onto my lap, sighing heavily into her glossy, lavender-scented hair. ‘Sweetheart. If you consumed every single minute of my day, I’d be a happyman. This is your baby—how can I not be interested in it? You’ve built a beautiful brand. Let’s at least see if we can find it some oxygen.’

I don’t mention my ulterior motive. I’d like to see if her business is viable from an investment perspective. I may not be able to hope for a romantic future with Nat—her family would never, ever stand for that—but perhaps we could have a business relationship. I shove aside the thought that it’s a terrible idea to even consider investing in the business of a woman I’m fucking, because I’m not interested in those kinds of thoughts right now.

If I’m right, Gossamer has real potential. I suspect the debts she’s so worried about would be pretty small for us to swallow, and she wouldn’t need a tonne of capital up-front—mid-six figures, maybe, to fund an increase in production and get some new projects off the ground.

As for Natalie herself, I’d back her every day of the week. Not only is she the perfect representative for her classy, feminine brand, but she’s articulate and smart and creative and focused and relentlessly disciplined. While the latter makes me worry for her wellbeing, she’s every inch the kind of founder I love to back.

The more I think about it, the more my gut tells me she could do great things with this brand with the right kind of financial help, personnel support, and mentoring.

I have another test up my sleeve, and this is a fun one.

‘If it makes you feel better, you can help me in return,’ I murmur into her hair.

She turns and grins at me. ‘Ishelpcode forblow job?’

‘Not in this instance, though I’m not above accepting sexual bribes. But while we’re here, tell me what you think of Vega.’

Her eyebrows wing up. ‘The man or the brand?’

‘Both, though I’m more interested in the latter.’

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