In My Shoes: A Memoir (28 page)

One of our more distinctive designs in which we collaborated with Richard Phillips to feature his Nuclear print on a clutch bag in 2007.

Image courtesy of Richard Phillips Studio

The “Loop” shoe from our spring/summer 2009 collection.

One of the last shoes I worked on before leaving Jimmy Choo in 2011.

Posing at a Jimmy Choo ad campaign shoot with Charlotte Pilcher (far right), my longtime friend and Vogue stylist and consultant at Jimmy Choo, and Angela Lindvall, an American supermodel and actress.

Spending an afternoon on the boat with Giancarlo Giammetti and Valentino in 2001—shortly before discovering I was pregnant with Minty.

Christian Slater and me at the Cannes Film Festival in 2008.

Tony Barson/Getty Images

Harvey Weinstein and his then girlfriend, now wife, Georgina Chapman of Marchesa.

Jon Furniss/Getty Images

Elle Macpherson and Liz Hurley joined me at an intimate OBE reception dinner that I threw for a few close friends.

In 2010, I received the Order of the British Empire honor for my services to the fashion industry. The beautiful ceremony was presided over by the Queen at Buckingham Palace.

British Ceremonial Arts LTD/HM The Queen

Minty, Michael Ovitz, and I celebrated Christmas on Michael’s yacht in 2012.

Minty, eleven years old, with her horse.

A
fter so many years spent “biting my tongue,” I must admit the idea of writing a memoir had been growing on me.

Then in the early summer of 2012, I met Portfolio’s affable and intuitive Adrian Zackheim, who was so keen to publish my story that he offered me an agreement without a proper book proposal, outline, . . . anything. We simply had a chat, then continued in “cart before the horse” fashion, even to the point of his introducing me to an agent, the wily Rafe Sagalyn, and to a publishing lawyer, the skillful Richard Heller.

With Adrian having pulled together all the pieces, I had no excuse. And given that I was in the midst of a sabbatical, enforced by a one-year “non-compete” signed with Jimmy Choo, the timing could not have been better.

All I needed now was a professional writer to whom I could bare my soul, and from whom I could receive a well-crafted manuscript that gave my rambling thoughts a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Of course, it should be a woman, and a woman with enough life experience to identify with my struggles and my inner landscape, someone who understands deep down the business hurdles and gender discrimination a woman still faces.

Rafe supplied me with three names—but his shortlist consisted of
two women and a man. I interviewed the two women first and knew which one I preferred. In fact, the choice was so obvious that I couldn’t quite see the point of interviewing the guy. After all, how could some guy get inside my head and help me find my voice?

But then the day was upon us—my assistant had already scheduled the appointment—and the male candidate was coming in from out of town, so even though I knew this third interview was a waste of time, it would be rude to cancel, so I agreed to muddle through.

In walks this six-foot-three Texan who lives in some fishing village in the wilds of New England, and within five minutes I knew this was the one. Bill had a disarming ability to get me to open up immediately, and to tell the truth, so much so that it felt like talking to a great shrink. Bill “got” me and my story at such a deep level. More to the point, he was able to bring my voice to the page.

So the minute he left our first interview, I phoned Martin Freeman and said, “I’ve just found my writer.” And what a fantastic lesson in life it was: Make no assumptions, stay open to the possibilities.

Let me thank William Patrick, then, for his incredible ability to grasp the complexities of my story so quickly, his attention to detail, his wonderful skill in “unpacking” each and every event, his always wanting to know more of what it was like “in my shoes,” and his refusal to ever settle for the inauthentic. I also appreciate his willingness to dance around my hectic life, and to make himself available in the gaps that opened up. Indirectly, I also want to thank him for proving yet again that I should trust my intuition. If it feels right, it probably is right.

Thanks also to Rafe for sending Bill my way, and to Richard for sealing the deal, and of course to Adrian, who set the entire process in motion.

As the months went by, though, I began to learn just how much help it takes to recollect the essence of one’s life experience, while continuing to push one’s present life forward. So I also want to extend a very special thanks to those who helped behind the scenes, and whose friendship, wisdom, and unconditional support I value so much: Hannah Colman, Elika Gibbs, Anna Suppi Conti, Massimo Conti, Charlotte Pilcher, Michael Ovitz, Mark Bolland, Andrew Roberts, Matthew Mellon, Tommy Hilfiger, Sir Philip Green, Ronald O. Perelman, Tory Burch, and Natalie Massenett.

Of course, more direct stage managers are also essential, and I could not ask for a better team to keep me organized and on time. Profound thanks, then, to my spectacular assistant, Irina Ponomarenko—ever present, never intrusive—as well as to my major majordomo, former NYPD detective John Vitale, who keeps me going with his reliability, consistency, and belief that “there are no gray areas” (except perhaps my own).

Closer to the action, I must praise the care and professionalism of the rest of the team at Penguin—Emily Angell, Katie Coe, Kristen Gastler, Will Weisser, and Allison McLean—thanks and well done!

And then hovering above the fray, but always available to swoop down like Zeus with a lightning bolt of perception, there is the priceless Martin Freeman, a master at keeping all the parts of my life moving, including certain jangly parts of my well-worn psyche. Thank you, Martin.

Above all, I must with all my heart thank my delightful daughter, Minty, for her love and understanding of a working mom who’s been even more distracted than usual these many, many months!