The Dress by Kate Kerrigan Read Free Book Online

other end of London. Sally felt Lily needed to get out of the house and back into the real world after all the upset of the past few weeks. This big event, thrown by her boss, the playboy fashion king Jack Scott, would be the perfect event for Lily to re-launch herself after the funeral.
    â€˜Make sure you get dressed up, they’ll all be there,’ Sally said.
    Lily took the bait. As the most popular vintage blogger in the UK, Lily had a reputation to maintain and always went to town on herself for fashion events. Today she opted for a Claire McCardell two-piece in navy and cream. The 1954 wrap-over halter top and full three-quarter length skirt were in mint condition but the design was so fluid, so contemporary, that people always got a surprise when they found out it was ‘historical’ vintage, aka pre-70s. To further the deception, Lily kept her make-up light, just her trademark red lips, and wore a pair of Orla Kiely Dotty shoes; Orla Kiely was one of the few contemporary designers whose items worked with her authentic look.
    While they walked across the busy streets to the warehouse where the show was being held, Sally filled Lily in on the gossip of the day. As somebody who worked at the high end of the retail fashion market, Sally knew all the most influential people in the London fashion business and kept herself bang up-to-date with all the news.
    Today was Scott’s debut show for the hot young sportswear designer Karl Bundy, who Jack Scott had poached from his arch enemy and rival, David Durane, CEO of PopShop, Britain’s biggest fashion retailer. Scott’s was number two. The fashion bloggers had gone wild when the Bundy-stealing story broke.
    â€˜I don’t rate Bundy as a designer, actually,’ Sally said, ‘but this show is a really big deal. I had to fight to get you a plus-one today.’
    â€˜Gee, thanks,’ Lily said, beginning to wonder if she was really ready for such a heavy dose of Sally’s fashion-drama.
    â€˜Would you believe PopShop offered me a job last week? Artistic Director. Full time, freelance contract – good money too.’
    â€˜Really?’ Lily said, trying to sound interested. Sometimes she got exhausted just listening to Sally talk about her work.
    â€˜Oh, yeah. These retail kings are so competitive it hurts. It’s like Next Top Model but with men in suits. Durane rang me himself. God, he’s a sleazebag. Tragic dresser, fifty-plus and kitted out like a rapper – lots of gold. Very sad. I said no. He’s only after me because he knows Scott’s will never let me go...’
    â€˜Hmm,’ Lily said.
    â€˜...especially not to work for Durane. Jack hates him...’ she carried on, even as they arrived at the door of the warehouse. Sally flashed her pass at the doorman and, giving the briefest of ‘We’re A-list’ glances, continued, ‘...partly because Durane’s a psychopath but then, as I keep telling him, we’re selling clothes, Jack darling, not feeding the world or saving kittens. You need to toughen up.’
    Even though Lily was only half listening she could not help smiling at the idea of Sally giving advice to one of the most powerful men in the fashion industry.
    Fashion was Sally’s life. She ate, drank and slept it every week, every day, every minute of every season. Lily didn’t care about what was ‘in’, or ‘out’, she only cared about the clothes themselves, their quality and fit. As a stylist, Sally would quite happily take a 1950s Robert Piguet cocktail dress and put it under a 70s vintage jacket. It made Lily flinch to see a beautiful piece of couture accessorized with anything outside its original era. It was the only thing the two friends fought about.
    â€˜If Dior were alive today,’ Sally once said to Lily, ‘he would definitely put cowboy boots with that gown.’
    â€˜Well,’ Lily snapped back, ‘he’s not alive