Authors: Jan Warburton
Uncle Sid put down the carving knife and slowly sat down in his chair. It seemed he was in constant pain nowadays from severe arthritis in his injured leg. At times he couldn't walk far without a stick; occasionally even resorting to a wheelchair when ever he and Joan went out anywhere.
After the meal Joan and I cleared the dishes away. Then we all sat back, and while Sid snoozed, we relaxed, chatting in front of the sitting room fire. It was cosy and warm and I was reminded of the many wonderful times Belinda and I had spent with them as children. Their house always smelled of freshly baked something or other, usually bread or cakes. Today it was especially good because Joan had made a delicious chocolate cake for tea.
Apart from my new job, much of our talk during the afternoon was about Mum and Philip's hotel venture. Joan agreed they'd taken on a huge responsibility.
'According to your mum’s last letter it all seems to be coming along very well and they hope to be fully open soon. All the same, it's a mammoth task for them,' Joan said. 'I do hope they're not taking on too much.'
I had to admit that thought had crossed my mind too.
Sid, stirring from his nap, stretched and cleared his throat. 'Well, you know Philip. He loves a challenge? What about the restaurants, dear? How are they doing these days?
'Fine, I think. To be honest, Uncle, I don't really know. I see so little of them nowadays, especially since they sold the house. I must say, the restaurant beneath our flat seems busy most nights though, if that's anything to go by. But they're spending more and more time in Wales now.'
'I know. We must visit them one of these days.' Sid patted Joan's hand and she smiled sweetly back at him. But I think she knew it was unlikely that they would; without a car it was an effort these days for them to go anywhere much.
*
Over the next few months things really took off. Officially contracted now for one year to design for the
Miss Courtney
, Ready-to-Wear collection, I moved along to work in my new premises two doors down in Grosvenor Street. We shared the building with a law firm, whose offices took up most of the ground floor. Yet we didn't intrude on one another; apart from sharing the toilet and washroom at the rear of that floor.
The floors above this were my domain and the two large paned Georgian windows of the reception and my office on the first floor facing the street had
MISS COURTNEY DESIGN OFFICES AND SHOWROOM
sign-painted in large lettering across the windows. Outside, on the wall beside the large newly painted black door, was a smart brass plate engraved with the name and details of which floor we were on. Bay trees stood to attention either side at the top of the front steps, just as they did outside the main House of Courtney premises.
This was a wondrously inspiring period for me as I began work on my small collection for its inaugural showing six months hence. Countdown to my first show had truly begun.
It felt so good to be running the new set up, even though Edward spent much of the first month or two advising me. But he was pretty fair, however, during this time, always making it clear that
I
was the collection designer. I was also allowed to make
most
design and fabric choices myself.
This was fine because as a team we'd always worked well together. And to be honest I was often quite glad to have his expert guidance, especially over early major choices when my lack of experience could sometimes leave me floundering.
Fortunately in the early months we weren't too inundated with people phoning or calling in, so I was able to fully concentrate on my designs. A junior assistant - Lynda, whom I'd carefully chosen with Edward's help - was also taken on. An ex-fashion student from St Martins, she had already worked for about a year as a pattern grader for a large wholesale house. She was a fast pattern cutter too, with an excellent eye for design.
With just over four months to go now, as I sketched my ideas, Lynda speedily cut the patterns and worked on the lays and samples for me. 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 editors assess future trends and decide which designs will feature in their issues.
Edward explained; 'Ready-to-Wear press releases interest the general public enormously; basically because the designs are so much more affordable.' He'd been watching a private preview of the designs, for which several extra models had been hired. 'It's a most impressive show, Annabel. Well done. Let’s hope the general reaction will be good.'
Crikey, I hoped so too, with all my heart. My whole future depended on it.
We decided the reception room and my office, which had two adjoining doors, would double up as a showroom. The girls could then parade between the rooms with the doors wide open.
*
On the day of the initial show I felt nervous but exultant. My very first collection! Although I personally thought it was good, I hadn't a clue how well it would be received.
It hadn't been my original intention, but I had ended up with a distinct theme running though the whole collection; I’d used a great deal of pleating; not only in many of the skirts, but in the backs of jackets and on the bodices of the dresses too. Some pleats were soft; some knife edged. Either way, it worked well, I thought, producing a clean-cut,
nouveau classique silhouette
; particularly in the evening wear.
I adored silk as a fabric and had managed to find a range of beautiful pure silk weaves in different thicknesses, textures and shades from an exclusive manufacturing company in Macclesfield. These had made up well in many of the designs. The colours and sheen of these natural materials added a vibrant precision to what otherwise might have been a rather prosaic, basic look.
Somehow, with this - my first
Miss Courtney
collection, I'd made a definitive statement. But would the critics and buyers go for it?
CHAPTER 4
'Hey, just look at this!' exclaimed a delighted Edward, rushing through with one of the first press releases two day's later. He stood proudly reading it out loud to me…
“
New designer for House of Courtney has produced a winning collection for their inaugural Miss Courtney Ready-to-Wear range. Annabel Spencer should prove to be a great asset to this esteemed fashion house. She has come from under the guiding wings of their chief designer, Edward Hamilton, whom she has assisted for two years. This first Miss Courtney collection is original and has vitality and understated chic, which of course has always been the hallmark of the House of Courtney. Miss Spencer's evening wear is especially rich, sinuous in line, and her uses of fabrics are most innovative.”
'They love it, Annabel. Well done!' Edward enthused, handing over
The
Draper's News
for me to revel in my success. I was speechless with relief and joy.
Vogue
also gave me a short personal mention that month, showing photos of two of my designs. In fact the reports were all good, and soon orders and enquiries were rolling in.
Several congratulatory telegrams arrived. One from the Directors and more came from several clients from my time with Edward in the main Courtney salon. Mum and Philip sent one too. However, the biggest thrill of all was one arriving totally out of the blue from of all people, Alex Karos!
Having been so busy I'd barely given him a thought over recent months. In any case I'd quite accepted the fact that he was well out of my reach; even if the memory of him still made my tummy flutter and my toes curl. But there it was in front of me in black and white...
CONGRATULATIONS ANNABEL STOP WONDERFUL NEWS STOP GOOD LUCK TO YOU AND MISS COURTNEY STOP WILL CELEBRATE WITH YOU NEXT TIME IN LONDON STOP ALEX KAROS STOP
It had been cabled from New York. I was ecstatic.
Nowadays I occasionally spent nights at Vanessa's flat. With the need to work late sometimes it was often more convenient to go back to Eaton Square than all the way back to Ealing on the Tube. She had first offered when Fiona was on holiday. Then, as time passed, it became quite accepted for me to spend nights there whenever I wanted.
I remembered that Alex had telephoned Vanessa on one such night while I was soaking in the bath, and I had overheard her telling him all about my new designing job. She'd told me that he had since often asked about my progress. I suppose I must have made a
small
impression on him after all … and now especially with this telegram.
Anyway, according to Vanessa, he was currently engaged to an American heiress and rarely came to London. Whilst I treasured his message along with all the others, he once more slipped into the recesses of my mind. All my thoughts and effort had to go into supervising the workroom's production of Autumn/Winter orders for delivery around August onwards.
I was also now making sketches and choosing fabrics for the Spring/Summer collection designs. Working so far in advance was nerve racking. I had to bear in mind what had worked well in the previous collection and bring the ideas forward in slightly different ways for the next season.
'How can I be sure to do it right?' I once asked Edward.
'You can't. But you will,’ he nodded. ‘I worry that I might get it wrong as well,' he confided. 'I’m always concerned that my new collection will look too much like my last one. Luckily it hasn't happened yet, and here's hoping it never will.'