A Face To Die For by Jan Warburton Read Free Book Online Page B

We’d work together on the more detailed drawings, however. These showed the specified seams and measurements from which she cut the master pattern.
    Fabrics were selected from vast bundles of sample swatches and each design was carefully costed out. Edward, as chief designer for Courtney’s was always asked his approval at this stage. Having been used to doing this sort of thing previously for him I already knew how his mind ticked on this score. I also had to bear in mind, the established classic Courtney image of understated chic; something I often found hard to stick to when my wild imagination wanted to run riot.
    ‘ One day, Annabel,' Edward frequently protested, reigning me in. 'I don't think Courtney customers are ready for quite such revolutionary designs just yet.'
    It was frustrating at times but I obediently adhered to his orders for a basic, classic look. However I would sneak in a little added innovation here and there whenever I could get away with it, just to prove my originality.
    A jolly little blonde cockney machinist called Violet from Brixton, who had previously worked in Norman Hartnell's workroom, joined us. It was her job to make up each sample in calico first. I loved her chatter and humour; especially the way everyone, including Edward, was called 'luv'. In voice and appearance she put me in mind of the 'Carry On' actress, Barbara Windsor.
    'All right, m'luv?' she’d always ask, when she'd completed anything for me. She often whistled or sang as she worked too; usually the latest pop or show tunes. Not even her busy sewing machine whirring away in the workroom below the studio Lynda and I shared could completely drown her voice. Altogether it was a very happy set up.
    Each calico toile would be put on a dummy first for initial changes and adjustments, before the design was finally cut in my chosen fabric and made up. Then it would be fitted on our house model Zoë, who also acted as our receptionist.
    Edward tried not to be too obstructive over my creative enthusiasm, and any occasional criticism, although not always too welcomed by me, was usually well founded. After all, I was new to the game with much to learn. I still hated it when he turned anything down though. But of course he was right to guide me at such a vital stage.
    Lynda generally supported me well although we didn't always agree over colour choices. I favoured strong colours and Lynda was very much, what I called, a neutral person, preferring beiges, greys and browns. This occasionally caused slight arguments as we selected fabrics, but mostly our collaboration worked well.
    Soon the collection of thirty-five sample garments was finished and approved. We were ready to get each design made up in standard sizes with Lynda supervising the pattern grading. This was one job I’d always loathed, so I was glad of her expertise.
    We worked together, examining each garment individually to check for quality before it finally ended up on the completed rails. Our Ready-to-Wear garments were always entirely made to couture standards; hand-finished and so on, but with the facility that a few minor alterations could be made for the customer should they be needed after a fitting. Of course, the prices reflected this, at around a quarter of the couture - made to measure, price.
    By normal fashion house standards it was a small collection. The norm was usually at least fifty designs. Instead this was just an inaugural collection, to test the water.
    The main workroom, where most of the garments were produced by a team of four seamstresses, two cutters and fitters, was right at the top of the building. It was therefore hardly surprising that Lynda and I lost a lot of weight tearing up and down stairs. I had never been so slim.
    The collection was to be launched during the March, London Collection Week. International buyers were invited, also the fashion press. I was barely sleeping and on tenterhooks because, from these collections, Fashion magazine