In My Shoes: A Memoir by Tamara Mellon, William Patrick Read Free Book Online Page A

left the job I think I’d rung up a significant trade imbalance in Sidney and Joan’s favor.
    It was clear that I’d found my métier, and soon enough I was desperate to get off the selling floor and expand my horizons. Occasionally I’d have the chance to help a bit on the public relations side for Brown’s, which led to my obtaining an interview with Phyllis Walters, who did PR for them as well as for many designers like Versace. In 1988, Phyllis hired me as her office runner, which meant that I would drop things off at fashion magazines—clothes or samples, whatever they wanted—then pick them up later. The fun part of the job was learning that a magazine was doing something with the theme of “spring roses,” say, or “hothouse flowers,” then rummaging through our clients’ collections to find items that might be included. You could really use your own initiative to find just the right thing, then send it in for the shoot. Eventually, I graduated to working on a few accounts myself, including Marks and Spencer, Georges Rech, and Molton Brown, co-owned by Sidney and Joan’s daughter.
    My life as a courier in and out of editorial offices allowed me to see how the magazine business worked firsthand, and after about a year I felt ready to take another leap. Through Phyllis I learned that Rupert Murdoch was about to launch a UK version of
Mirabella
, the very smart, upscale women’s magazine named after Grace Mirabella, the former editor of
Vogue
. I thought this would be just the place for me, and I approached getting a job there with a studiousness I had never applied back in school. I read everything about their vision, their ethos, and who they saw as their prospective reader.
    Fashion magazines encompass two very different worlds: fashion and features. In London, the girls who work in features—the long, sometimes very substantive articles—have liberal arts degrees. The fashion department, which oversees the lavish and creative presentation of the clothing itself, hired girls like me who were less studious, perhaps, but more visually oriented. At
Mirabella
, the fashion director was Caroline Baker, already a legend in the industry for the radical shoots she’d done for
Nova
, and
The Face
, and
i-D
starting out in the sixties.
Mirabella
was more mainstream, but Caroline was still considered quite edgy. I was thrilled when she accepted me as her assistant.
    Certainly I was now on a proper flight path, having left the duvet in the basement and the guacamole and the TV seemingly forever. But then came the financial crash of 1989–1990, Murdoch pulled the plug, and all hands at
Mirabella
were made redundant.
    •  •  •  •
    DURING MY BRIEF TENURE IN the magazine world I’d become friends with a junior fashion editor named Charlotte Pilcher, whobegan to freelance as a stylist, with me freelancing as her assistant. Having gotten my foot in the door, I was not going to allow myself to be pushed back out so easily. Charlotte lived in Shepherd’s Bush, and I was living in my Belgravia basement, and I would show up at her house most mornings with coffee and say, “Come on. Get dressed. Let’s go.” I was still not feeling well—I had sleep problems, and problems with lethargy and depression—but fear was a great motivator. To have any chance of staying in the game, we had to stay in the loop, which meant being out and about.
    Press officers in London would have “open days” when they’d show their clients’ new collections and invite the editors from the fashion magazines to come in to browse. The press officers hoped the editors would want to do a shoot featuring some part of their collection, and the editors like Charlotte hoped to be selected to style the shoot.
    Charlotte happened to be friends with Jane Pickering, who knew Sarajane Hoare, another legend in the industry who was then fashion director at
Vogue.
Sarajane was looking for an assistant and in 1990, with a good word from Jane