This must be a lovely job. The sequel.

It’s been emotional…

This week has been an odd one in Bushland. For the one remaining person that has been living outside of my sphere of shoutiness I will recap this week’s drama. The first act happened Monday and the  second act aired on Tuesday.

Act 1 Scene One

Monday. Emma at Bush HQ. Emma is slightly tired as she has been working 10 days straight without a day off and it is the morning after the luxe retailers dinner. It is also AS exam week which has bought it’s own fringe productions.

Fellow retailers will know the kind of tiredness of which I speak when a busy Saturday is followed by a Sunday at a trade show and a Monday back at the shop. Orders, vague untidiness – does anyone really hoover at the end of a Saturday – follow up emails, answerphone & a first appointment at 10.30.

This, with the backdrop of an AS deadline, the school are threatening an Unclassified grade for my son if he doesn’t show up and hand in some work. Such a grade would see his swift exit from 6th form. I have left him sullen, unresponsive in bed with a scolding and a demand he get up. He must. Try physically moving a 6′ plus 17 year old with a guilt complex, labile emotional state, severe, protracted bereavement issues and an overdue deadline. Not to mention a high dependency on online gaming that the risk DVT is never far from my mind.  Not easy, not pretty.

With this nagging concern in the back of my mind I wait for my 10.30 appointment. April 2014 wedding , not urgent, a pleasant Monday distraction. The clients are late. I take a rather frantic call saying they have been involved in an accident. When the party of three arrive they explain that a stone from the gardening activities of careless council worker flew into the driver side window and shattered it. It looked like rain and they were concerned that the car would get soaked. I commended their commitment to shopping and called on my brother to fetch gaffer tape and plastic and make a temporary fix.

I recognise one of the party, a ex bride from nine years previously. The ex bride marvels at my power of recall. I don’t remember this bride because she was beautiful and wore one of my all time favourite Jenny Packham dresses. I don’t remember her because she was getting married in Hampshire near where my Father lives. I remember her because her appointment times with me totalled eleven hours. Without fitting time. This bride was the example in my apocryphal tale that she would have spent more time in the dress in my shop than she would on her wedding day. The dress at the time was around £1200. Do the maths and bye bye margin.

The appointment went well. The very young and pretty bride to be, with Delevigne eyes, fab figure and no engagement ring put on the first dress. A very clean lined, undecorated dress and promptly bled down the dress from a grazed finger. It happens, it’s a pitfall of pale samples & people.

I have a remarkably pretty Choisya in bloom in the courtyard garden of Miss Bush. The bride was Converse wearing & tousled haired and a had a surf chick look which immediately meant I wanted to show how how cool flowers in her hair would look. Some braids, pins & soft curls later fresh flowers adorned a very reasonable hairdo (Watch out Sharon!)

Everything progressed beautifully, a favourite dress was found we had a lovely time. Appointments with me on a weekday are free, usually two hours and very often include masses of styling advice, a mini hair trial & usually quite a lot of fun. I try to be as sincere in advice and light hearted in mood. A touch opinionated perhaps but what is the point of consulting an expert and not getting advice?

I call my son repeatedly after this appointment, at first the phone just rings & rings. Then he switches it off. I am too worried to stay at work, I leave and spend the next few hours switching between angry and desperate. I am both nice & nasty cop. I can’t bear to see my bright son fail. I am exhausted.

Act 2 Scene 1

Tuesday at home. 

I failed to get my son into school on Monday, I failed to get him on the correct bus this morning. I have a 10am appointment in Mayfair with Jenny Packham.I have failed again. I call my brother so I can stop cajoling, reminding, repeatedly shouting at my son and attempt the demeanor of a fashion buyer and MD of a famous bridal retailer.

Up do, sharp new frock, eyeliner, new Hobbs coat, phone iPad, heels, spikes, claws, fangs, hide of a Rhino. Right I am ready to go

Act 2 Scene 2

Tuesday at Jenny Packham

Please hum ‘oh you never smile at  crocodile’ while reading this part link

There are just gorgeous dresses as far as the eye can see in the Jenny Packham flagship evening wear store. Although I did ponder the bad wigs on the mannequins. Ushered to the basement an hour is spent frittering a 5 figure sum on new dresses for our 2014 brides to try. A significant investment. One that didn’t require eleven hours to make. The exit is less pleasant, no time to linger & swoon at all the beauty, no time to exchange a few pleasantries with a fellow retailer. A firm hand on the back says ‘leave’. Trade buying is very different.

Act 2 Scene 3 

The White Gallery, Trade Exhibition, Battersea

It is midday and there is barely any time for the meetings and buying I have to do before 3pm. As I walk through security right in front of me is the Jesus Peiro stand and on the stand are two women I recognise. They are the mother of the bride and the ex bride from Monday’s appointment. They are taking to MY agent, on MY supplier’s stand. They are opening their own shop…

The flare of anger & emotion that this provokes may surprise & confuse any of you that don’t work in bridal retail.  The calculated lying that must have been afoot at the previous day’s appointments. The leading questions. The analysis of our stock. Of me.

It would not be too strong to say it feels like you just slept with someone who turned out to be married.

I may have marched on the stand, I was polite but fierce. I was brutally factual about retail bridal. I was pissed fucking off.

Bridal retail can never be separated from female emotions. My business is a family business. It employs women. I have staff from their mid teens to their mid 60s. We support each other in a uniquely female environment. You have a sick child? You go home. You can cry if you want to, share intimate information. I ask a lot of my girls & I am rewarded in loyalty that far exceeds the wages available in bridal retail.

My customers are women. In what other retail industry would you get lovely emails from clients saying that we “were great – but they got THE dress somewhere else. They will recommend all their friends… ”

The customers feel the emotions, they build a rapport with their stylist, they feel a bit guilty they didn’t get a dress from us.

When you consider the  emotional reaction to what is, effectively,  a harmless bit of time wasting mystery shopping it may seems extreme. Look below, above & beyond the beautiful dresses, glamorous shops, parties & events. You will see passionate, intelligent & committed women whose lives are entwined, for better or worse, with their businesses.

Act 3 

Miss Bush HQ. Thursday

I receive a phone call from the real/pretend MOB apologising for being dishonest. The MOB/Bridal retailer tells me that they never thought they would ‘get in’ to our shop if they told the truth. I appreciate her honesty, I accept the olive branch. She has offered it because she is a women, I have accepted it for the same reason.

“Can I have a pretend appointment for two hours to see what you do & what collections you stock?”

Truthfully, the answer would be no.

“Can I have your advice on opening a bridal retail shop?”

The answer would be yes

Is my advice worth something? Yes.

I am over seething. Just.

The exams have been done, albeit with Red Bull & some less than outstanding effort.

I joked on Twitter about a ‘Bush-cadamy’. I might well do it.  Would you pay? Would you be interested?

Curtain

Emma Meek, Managing Director of Miss Bush Bridalwear,

Miss Bush is Surrey’s leading designer bridal retailer and has been for 25 years & what I have learned is valuable ok!