Page 3 of Bad Influence
‘Nothing is concrete yet,’ Joseph continued awkwardly. ‘But I’ve been asked to make you aware that your role is at risk of redundancy and, at about six p.m. today, the company will be sending out emails to certain individuals, either confirming the redundancy or offering an alternative role for you within the company. I’m sorry for this news.’
Shauna flicked her nails in the way she did just before she was about to blow up.
‘When you say “certain individuals”, do you mean both me and Amber, or just one of us?’ Her brow was furrowed. ‘I mean, I’m assuming you wouldn’t be telling us this, if we weren’t getting the email?’
Joseph stroked his chin, the way he did when he was anxious about something. ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ he replied.
‘Are they mad?’ Shauna scoffed. ‘I mean, do theyseriouslythink it’s possible for you to manage the window designs on your own? They have no idea—’
‘It’s hard to swallow, mate, but the reality is that physicalsales have been impacted by AI and online systems, making it easier for people to shop from home,’ he said. ‘The lack of footfall in the store is having an impact on all aspects of retail – including the window displays.’
‘Great, so we’re going to be replaced by AI?’ Shauna said scornfully.
‘Enter the robo-stylists …’ I muttered, backing her up.
‘We’re not there – yet,’ Joseph replied calmly. ‘But there’s been talk of digitising the windows. I didn’t even get the David Koma display approved, and I only got him to agree to do it because he’s a friend.’
‘I’m good with digital,’ Shauna piped up seriously. ‘Did you see my last TikTok?’
Joseph continued calmly, ‘Listen, I know it’s a shock, it was for me too. But try not to panic. Please keep an eye on your inbox and I’ll support you however I can through this process.’ He had obviously been heavily briefed by HR not to go into any detail. Though I was pretty sure that being in the at-risk category didn’t sound promising.
Sure enough, I got the email later that day, just as I set foot on the down escalator at the Bond Street Tube station. It stated that my role had been made redundant and there were ‘regrettably, no other openings within the company’ for me at this time. I texted Shauna to see if she had received the same email and she replied immediately,No babes – I’m sorry. It was crushing for my confidence, but, as Rob reminded me over a bottle of wine that evening, after all the fun and excitement of styling the Angel Wear fashionshow in Manhattan, going back to work as a shop window designer hadn’t been cutting it for me for a while. I missed styling real people instead of mannequins.
‘Maybe this will turn out to be a good thing?’ he had offered, green eyes shining. Rob’s ability to look on the bright side was one of the things I loved about him. ‘You’ll get two-months’ pay to tide you over while you find a new job. And I’m sure that won’t take you long. You’re Amber Green, stylist to the stars,dahling!’
‘Former stylist to the stars,’ I corrected him, morosely.
So, right now, eighteen hours later, as I waited for Mum in Peter Jones, this email felt like I’d been thrown a life jacket.It would be amazing if I could secure a job immediately. Then I might be able to afford a few new outfits from the two-months’ pay.There was a new fire in my fingertips as I replied to the email.
Dear Julie-Ann, thanks so much for getting in touch. I’d love to meet up! Just let me know what time suits Ms Sykes and I’ll be there. Kind regards, Amber Green
I instantly regretted the fact I’d made myself so available. Enthusiasm had probably knocked a zero off my potential salary. I’d never been good at stifling excitement. If I was likened to a punctuation symbol, I’d be an exclamation mark, no question. I could never be as aloof as all the moody full stops you see decorating the front row at fashion shows.
In a panic, I realised I hadn’t given Julie-Ann my mobile number, so I sent her another email adding my mobile, plusInstagram and TikTok handles, just to cover all bases. The show of excitement had likely shaved another chunk off my salary, but was totally and utterly authentically me.
With a cheese scone sitting like a kettlebell in my stomach and Mum looking jittery after two cups of coffee, we decided to abort the shopping trip and go home. She had some partially defrosted steak and a legal case to check on, and I wanted to discuss the email with Rob.
We parted company on the Bakerloo line with a stiff hug and a promise to do this again because it had been so lovely.Neither of us is good at lying.As the train pulled away, she urgently mouthed at me:See you next Friday for Nora’s birthday, don’t forget!And then a text came through:Sorry for being a shitty client, you are wasted on me. That Mandy will be lucky to have you. Good luck – go for it. Mum.
This made me smile. It was as close as I would ever get to a compliment. I hoped ‘That Mandy’ might feel the same.
As I continued my journey back home to Kensal Rise, I became curious about who had recommended me to an agent of Mandy Sykes. The fact the email referred to a ‘position’ made me think it was more than an ad-hoc enquiry about styling Mandy for the occasional event. My immediate thought was Mona Armstrong, the notorious celebrity stylist, and my former boss, whom I assisted during one memorable awards season between London and Los Angeles three years ago. Mona wasn’t known for being particularly generous when it came to good deeds, especially for ex-assistants, so it was unlikely to be her, unless she had an ulterior motive, which was plausible.
Maybe I had met one of Mandy’s entourage during that whirlwind circuit? I couldn’t recall who. Or perhaps Mandy had read about the Angel Wear show, during those incredible few hours last autumn when I had found myself trending on Instagram. Maybe she had made a note?
Then it clicked. It might be Poppy. As in Poppy Dunn, the actress. Just before Rob and I spent three months in New York last year, I bumped into Poppy, sat in Mandy Sykes’s car outside Selfridges, as she waited for her mega-famous friend to return to the vehicle after emptying half of the Hermès concession. Poppy and Mandy shared an agent at one point, when Poppy was trying to break America, so she was the only certain link to Mandy I could think of. I had come to her fashion rescue a couple of times during those three crazy months in Manhattan, so she owed me a favour. Yes, it had to be Poppy. I looked up and whispered into the lighting on the stuffy Tube carriage.Thank you, Poppy, you’re a total babe.
When I made it back to our flat, Rob was already home. I call it ‘our’ flat, but it wasn’t so long ago that I shared this place with my best friend Vicky, before Vicky moved to Los Angeles and stayed there with her film director boyfriend.
At least Vicky will understand how big this is.
I was itching to call her, but it would only be eight a.m. in LA and Vicky was not an early riser.
‘So, were you successful in making over London’s most fussy client?’ Rob asked. He knew my mother sufficiently well enough that he was allowed to make derogatory comments.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ I replied. ‘I was always going to fail.’
‘Did she buyanything?’
