The Couturier of Milan

by Ian Hamilton

  “Is that Fai?” May said.

  The model took three steps forward and then stopped. She rolled her shoulders back and held out a hand towards Clark. He walked to her, took her hand, and led her slowly down the centre of the runway.

  Ava could hear herself breathing and realized that the entire room had fallen silent.

  Clark faced the woman and whispered something to her. When she nodded, he began to undo the onyx coat buttons. When he had finished, he moved back and took two steps to the side.

  Her hands reached up and pulled the coat off. It floated to the ground. May gasped, and Ava felt her own breathing stop for a second.

  Pang Fai raised her head. She wore no makeup and her hair was cut in a simple pageboy. She had on a white linen T-shirt that barely reached her thighs, exposing nearly all of the famous Pang legs. The word “PÖ” was written on it in red, and along the bottom were the date and the word “London.”

  The models lined the runway, surrounding Clark and Fai. May, Amanda, and Ava hardly noticed the steadily rising applause. Their attention was fixed on Pang Fai.

  “Whoever thought of having her so plain under that coat is a genius,” Amanda said.

  “So plain?” May said. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”

  Clark picked up the coat and placed it over Pang Fai’s shoulders. She smiled affectionately and leaned down and kissed him on the lips. He turned and bowed, waved to the crowd, and took Fai’s hand and led her backstage.

  Ava felt her body sag and realized she had been caught up in the drama of it all. The applause abated and the crowd began to disperse. Most people were already making their way towards the exit, while a few headed backstage. The director had warned them about rapid audience departures. There were shows going on all over London and schedules were tight.

  Ava was turning to talk to May when out of the corner of her eye she saw Carrie Song hurrying towards them.

  “What did you think?” Ava said.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” Carrie said, shaking her head. “The clothes were wonderful, and Pang Fai . . . My god, only a real superstar could have pulled that off.”

  “She was amazing.”

  “There’s something I want to tell you. Do you see that stocky man in the grey suit and light blue tie?” Carrie said, motioning towards the exit.

  “The one surrounded by three or four other men in grey and black suits?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Dominic Ventola, the chairman of VLG, the world’s second largest luxury-brand company.”

  “I know the name, and I know of VLG. Why would he come to our show?”

  “Like everyone else, he may have wanted to see if Pang Fai would make an appearance. But I can tell you that once the show started, he had his assistants —those other men in suits —taking photographs of every outfit.”

  “Why would they be so interested?”

  “Not to steal Clark’s designs, if that’s what you’re thinking. They don’t operate like that,” Carrie said. “But, among other things, Dominic likes to invest in talented young designers.”

  “We don’t need any investors.”

  “I’m not suggesting you do or that that’s what he wants,” Carrie said. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all.”

  “No, I’m glad you did, and I’m sure Clark will be pleased to hear that a man like Ventola saw fit to attend his show and thought enough of his designs to record them.”

  “He should be.”

  “And I need to tell you how pleased I am that you came today,” Ava said.

  “I feel as if I have a stake in all of this, and all of you.”

  “A big enough stake that I can entice you to join us for a celebratory lunch?”

  “Will Pang Fai be there?”

  “Of course, as well as May, Amanda, Clark, and our entire Shanghai team.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound quite so star-struck,” Carrie said with a laugh.

  “Fai does that to people.”

  Carrie looked at her watch. “I have two more shows scheduled over the next two hours. One is in Soho and the other is in the Docklands. I can’t miss them.”

  “I understand, but by the time they’re done, in all likelihood we’ll just be getting started. It won’t be a problem if you’re late.”

  “I’ll try to make it.”

  “Great. We’ve reserved the private dining area at Hakkasan Restaurant in Hanway Place. It’s near Tottenham Court Road, about a twenty-minute cab ride from here.”

  “It sounds like it’s Chinese,” Carrie said.

  “It is Chinese —actually, Cantonese. We’re a predictable bunch.”

  “That’s the very last thing anyone would ever call you.”

  ( 2 )

  It was madness backstage.

  When Ava, May, and Amanda entered the dressing and staging area, they stepped into a sea of noise. Most of the models had other shows to get to and were quickly changing into their own clothes. Clark was standing in a corner, surrounded by well-wishers. Gillian and Chi-Tze were deep in discussion with several people Ava didn’t recognize.

  “Where is Pang Fai?” Ava asked.

  “Over there,” Amanda said.

  Fai was seated, and some of the Chinese models stood around her. The monstrously large bodyguard her agent had hired was hovering by her side.

  “I’ll go talk to her,” Ava said.

  “I’m going to see who Clark is with,” Amanda said.

  “And I recognize one of the people talking to Chi-Tze,” May said. “I’ll join them.”

  Fai beamed when she saw Ava approaching, and rose to her feet. She was still wearing the T -shirt but had removed the high-heeled shoes. The models grouped around her parted.

  “You were magnificent,” Ava said, giving Fai a hug.

  “So the girls keep telling me.”

  “It’s true.”

  “I didn’t think I would be so nervous.”

  “It didn’t show,” Ava said, surprised at Fai’s insecurity. “Who came up with the idea?”

  “I did,” Fai said. “They wanted me to just do a runway walk, but I said to Clark, ‘What is the point in hiring an actress if you don’t let her act?’”

  “I’m glad they listened to you.”

  “I didn’t give them much choice,” Fai said, laughing. “I am hard to resist when I’m in full drama-queen mode.”

  “Ava . . .” a voice said. She turned to see Amanda.

  “Elsa brought some colleagues to meet Clark,” Amanda said. “Do we have room for them at lunch?”

  “How many are they?”

  “Two, plus Elsa.”

  The Ling Ling Lounge at Hakkasan was designed to accommodate about twenty people. They were already at twenty-three, and Elsa and her friends would make it twenty-six. “Sure,” Ava said, figuring that she would insist —as she had seen her mother do countless times —that the restaurant find a way to fit everyone in.

  It took close to an hour for the backstage activity to calm. The PR people had lined up a series of interviews and photo ops for Clark and Pang Fai. Clark spoke fluent English but Fai needed an interpreter —a role that Amanda and Chi-Tze took turns filling.

  They left the Shard in taxis. Ava, Amanda, May, and Elsa rode together in one; behind them were Pang Fai, her bodyguard, Clark, and the show director; and trailing, Chi-Tze, Gillian, Elsa’s friends, some of the director’s staff, and the models they’d flown in from Shanghai.

  “You are going to be pleased with the coverage you’ll get,” Elsa said as they were crossing London Bridge. “I heard nothing but compliments from the press I talked to.”

  “Thank you for saying that, and thanks for all the support you’ve given us,” Ava said.

  “Now all we have to do is convert that support into orders,” May said.

  “We have lots of follow-up to do,” Amanda said. “Chi-Tze and Gillian were approached by at least five buyer
s who want to talk to us about carrying the line.”

  “Does Clark know?” Ava asked.

  “He does, and I was amazed at how composed he was about it. He was so high-strung before the show, but now he’s like a different person.”

  “He is a bit of an actor, isn’t he,” May said. “I was thinking that when he came down the runway with Pang Fai. What you’ve said just reinforces that idea. He played the eccentric, emotional designer before the show and then morphed into the cool and collected professional after it.”

  “Maybe that’s because he knew the show was a success,” Ava said.

  “Still, I think May is right,” Elsa said. “When we did that photo shoot with him in Shanghai, he was like a chameleon, fitting whatever role our photographer wanted him to play. He’s a bit like Dominic Ventola in that regard.”

  “Did you know Ventola was at the show?” Ava asked, surprised.

  “Yes, I saw him, and Amanda tells me that Carrie Song spotted him as well.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “No, but I know people who have.”

  “What do they say he’s like?”

  “Apparently it depends on the day. I’ve been told he’s charming, incredibly intelligent, and generous,” Elsa said. “And I’ve also heard people swear they’ve never met anyone coarser, greedier, or more ruthless. It’s like a switch goes on or off and his personality does a complete about-face.”

  “Why was he there?” May asked.

  “That’s anyone’s guess,” Elsa said.

  It took them more than half an hour to negotiate the midday London traffic to get to Hakkasan. Ava had called the restaurant from the cab to tell them more seats were required and then requested extra servings of every dish she had pre-ordered. As the group slowly gathered, Ava functioned as hostess. She put Elsa Ngan on one side of Pang Fai and left the other seat open for Carrie Song. Clark sat directly across from Fai, flanked by Gillian and Chi-Tze, with May Ling and Amanda on either side of them. Ava sat in Song’s seat, leaving the one next to her empty. The director, a few key members of his staff, Elsa’s friends, and the models filled the rest of the chairs. When everyone was more or less settled, Ava asked the servers to bring the dim sum platters she’d ordered and to start serving the Louis Roederer champagne.

  When everyone had a glass, Ava stood and raised hers. “On behalf of May, Amanda, and myself, I want to say how proud we are of our talented and wonderful Clark. He continues to go from strength to strength, and his collection is spectacular. We don’t know how much business we’ll generate from the show today, and frankly we don’t care. We’re just so proud to have helped bring his creations to the world’s attention.”

  “Ava, don’t be so quick to say you don’t care how much business we do,” Gillian said, and everyone laughed.

  They toasted and then settled in to eat. The first course was scallop siu mai, har gow, and celery prawn dumplings. Then the main dishes were served: Peking duck with Qiando caviar, silver cod with champagne, wagyu beef with white asparagus, Singapore noodles with prawns and squid, and stir-fried bok choy and morning glory. The food was uniformly excellent, but the models, Clark, and the director and his staff just picked at the dishes.

  “I’m going to have way too much food left if these people don’t start eating,” Ava said to Fai. “What’s the matter with them?”

  “They’re used to starving themselves. Once you get into that habit it’s hard to break.”

  “They’re flying to Shanghai tomorrow. They should have a hearty meal here before they go.”

  Fai nodded then said to the table, “Who would have thought we could find Chinese food this good in England?” she said. “Why don’t we show the chefs some respect by eating a bit more.”

  “That goes for you too, Clark,” Ava said. “You could eat six meals a day for two months and still not be fat.”

  “Well, what they won’t eat, I will,” May said. “And here is Carrie to help.”

  Carrie gave Ava a hug and then worked her way around the table before sitting next to Fai.

  “How were the other shows?” Ava asked.

  “Good, but not quite as good as PÖ,” she said. “All I heard was talk about Clark and, of course, Pang Fai.”

  Fai smiled.

  “You were fantastic,” Carrie said.

  “Because of a brilliant designer and a great director.”

  “Don’t be so modest.”

  Fai shrugged and then smiled again. “Okay, maybe I did have something to do with it.”

  Carrie reached for a slice of beef, and then the others really began to eat and enjoy themselves. Ten minutes later, Ava was pleased to see that some of the platters were almost empty. She ordered three more bottles of champagne.

  Carrie had just finished her second glass when she checked her phone. She turned to Ava. “Good god, look at this.”

  “What?” Ava said.

  “It’s a text from Raffi Pandolfo, asking me if I know who he should talk to about the PÖ brand.”

  “Who is Raffi Pandolfo?”

  “You really don’t know?’

  Ava shook her head.

  “Dominic Ventola’s right-hand man,” Carrie said.

  “And long-time partner,” Elsa added.

  “Yes, but strictly in the business sense,” Carrie said. “He’s a minority shareholder and partner in VLG. He has a well-earned reputation for being astute, especially when it comes to managing the group’s finances.”

  “Does everyone know that Ventola was at the launch today?” Ava asked.

  “Yes, we all heard,” Chi-Tze said.

  “But I didn’t see Pandolfo there,” Carrie said.

  “What does this mean?” Gillian asked.

  “According to Carrie, we should assume that Ventola likes Clark’s work.”

  “Do you think he wants to get involved with us?” Gillian said.

  “I don’t know,” Ava said.

  “VLG is a spectacular company,” Gillian said.

  “We do understand their significance,” May said.

  “Tell Mr. Pandolfo he can contact me,” Ava said to Carrie. “I’m curious to hear what he has to say.”

  ( 3 )

  “I can’t say I’m very happy about Gillian’s reaction to that text from Raffi Pandolfo,” May said. She, Ava, and Amanda were in a taxi on the way back to their hotel.

  “I’m sure she was just flattered by the attention,” Amanda said. “She and Clark have been trying for so long to get his work known. It must be overwhelming to have had Dominic Ventola at the show and then Pandolfo trying to contact us.”

  “What do you think they intend?” May asked.

  “Carrie made a point of saying that Ventola likes to invest in young, talented designers,” Ava said.

  “We don’t need his money,” May said.

  “No, but he brings many other things to the table,” Amanda said.

  “Influence with high-end retailers?” May suggested.

  “And that only scratches the surface,” Amanda said. “It’s true he’s got many friends and allies in retail and in fashion media around the world, but he and Raffi also know how to take someone like Clark, and a brand like PÖ, and spin it off into perfumes, leathers, watches, and other merchandise.”

  “I know it’s a cliché, but we need to walk before we run,” Ava said.

  They reached the Corinthia and were walking through the lobby when Ava’s phone vibrated. She looked at the screen and saw it was a private number. She hesitated and then answered. “Ava Lee.”

  “This is Xu.”

  “It’s the middle of the night in Shanghai.”

  “I woke around one and started thinking about the show and couldn’t get back to sleep. How did it go?”

  “Fantastic.”

  “How did Pang Fai do?”

  “It was like watching a dream. She was sensational.”

  “Your partners must be happy.”

  “Yourself included,” A
va said, referring to his silent investment in Three Sisters.

  “It’s nice to hear you sound so happy.”

  “Happy is the right word.”

  “So now what?”

  “We don’t know yet. We’ll have to see how much media coverage we get and what kind of orders come in.”

  “Keep me updated.”

  “I will,” Ava said.

  “Who was that?” May asked when Ava ended the call.

  “Xu.”

  “Oh.”

  Ava glanced at her friend. Recently May had been acting oddly whenever she was with Xu or when his name was mentioned. Ava wondered if there was something going on between them, or whether she was reading too much into May’s reaction. “He sends his congratulations to everyone,” she said.

  “There must be times when he finds it tiresome having to stay in the background,” May said.

  “I’m sure that’s true, but he doesn’t plan on that being a permanent situation.”

  In addition to being a silent investor in Three Sisters, Xu ran the triad organization in Shanghai and was chairman of the triad societies in Asia. Like Ava, he had been mentored by Uncle, and that bond had initially drawn them together. Now they were forging their own strong relationship. Xu often referred to Ava as mei mei, little sister, and she thought of him as gege, big brother.

  “I’ll let you both know if I hear from Pandolfo,” Ava said as they got in the elevator.

  “And if you don’t?” Amanda asked.

  “Then I’ll see you at seven for drinks and dinner,” Ava said. “We’re meeting here in the lobby before heading over to the Dorchester Hotel. Fai wants steak, and the Grill at the Dorchester is supposed to be terrific.”

  Ava’s room was on the third floor and she was the first to exit the elevator. She opened the door and walked into a room that had almost taken her breath away the first time she saw it. Originally known as the Metropole Hotel, the Corinthia had been constructed in 1885. The unique triangular brick building had been used for other purposes throughout the years, including as a government office. It wasn’t until 2007 that the Corinthia group, owned by the Pisani family of Malta, took control of the property and turned it into a five-star luxury hotel. What surprised Ava was how originally and richly decorated every room was. Hers was furnished in an ultra-modern style and the wooden floor was laid out in a herringbone pattern in shades of taupe, tan, and brown. May’s room was styled with a purple and red palette and Amanda was in a blue room. Regardless of colour and decor, the overriding impression was of tremendous quality.