Shopaholic Ties the Knot

“Danny Kovitz.”

“Danny Kovitz. Ah.” Light dawns on Christina’s face. “So it was you who… assembled these garments. And planted them on our racks.”

“What? He’s not a real designer?” says Tracy in horror. “I knew it! I wasn’t fooled.” She thrusts the hanger she’s holding back onto the rack as though she’s been contaminated.

“Isn’t that breaking the law?” says Lisa, wide-eyed.

“It may well be,” says Danny defensively. “But shall I tell you why I’m reduced to criminal measures? Do you know the impossibility of getting a break in this so-called business of fashion?” He glances around to make sure his audience is listening. “I put every ounce of my life-force into my work. I weep, I cry out in pain, I squeeze myself dry of creative blood. But the fashion establishment isn’t interested in new talent! They aren’t interested in nurturing the newcomer who dares to be a little different!” His voice rises impassionedly. “If I have to take desperate measures, can you blame me? If you cut me, do I not bleed?”

“Wow,” breathes Lisa. “I had no idea it was so tough out there.”

“You did cut me,” puts in Tracy, who looks far less impressed by Danny’s speech. “With your stupid pin.”

“Christina, you have to give him a chance!” exclaims Lisa. “Look! He’s so dedicated!”

“I just want to bring my ideas to people who will love them,” begins Danny again. “My only desire is that someone, someday, will wear one of my garments and feel themselves transformed. But as I crawl toward them on my hands and knees, the doors keep being slammed in my face—”

“Enough already!” says Christina, half exasperated, half amused. “You want your big break? Let me have a look at these clothes.”

There’s a sudden intrigued quiet. I glance quickly at Danny. Perhaps this is going to be it! Christina will spot his genius and Barneys will buy his entire collection and he’ll be made! Then Gwyneth Paltrow will wear one of his Tshirts on Leno, and there’ll be a rush for them, and suddenly he’ll be famous and have his own boutique!

Christina reaches for a T-shirt with spattered dye and rhinestones on the front, and as she runs her eye up and down it, I hold my breath. Lisa and Tracy raise their eyebrows at each other, and although Danny is motionless, I can see his face tightening with hope. There’s dead silence as she puts it down — and as she reaches for a second T-shirt we all give an intake of breath, as though the Russian judge’s hand has hovered over the perfect six scorecard. With a critical frown, she stretches it out to look at it properly… and as she does so, one of the sleeves comes off in her hand, leaving a ragged seam behind.

Everyone stares at it speechlessly.

“That’s the look,” says Danny, a little too late. “It’s a… a deconstructive approach to design…”

Christina is shaking her head and putting the T-shirt back. “Young man. You certainly have flair. You may even have talent. Unfortunately these are not enough. Until you can finish off your work properly, you’re not going to get very far.”

“My designs are usually immaculately finished!” says Danny at once. “Perhaps this particular collection was a little hurried…”

“I suggest you go back to the beginning, make a few pieces, very carefully…”

“Are you saying I’m careless?”

“I’m saying you need to learn how to follow a project through to the end.” Christina smiles kindly at him. “Then we’ll see.”

“I can follow a project through!” says Danny indignantly. “It’s one of my strengths! It’s one of my— Would I be making Becky’s wedding dress otherwise?” He grabs me, as though we’re about to sing a duet. “The most important outfit of her whole life? She believes in me, even if nobody else does. When Becky Bloomwood walks down the aisle at the Plaza Hotel in a Danny Kovitz creation, you won’t be calling me careless then. And when the phones start ringing off their hooks—”

“What?” I say stupidly. “Danny—”

“You’re making Becky’s wedding dress?” Christina turns to me. “I thought you were wearing Richard Tyler.”

“Richard Tyler?” echoes Danny blankly.

“I thought you were wearing Vera Wang,” says Erin, who wandered over to the little scene two minutes ago and has been staring agog ever since.

“I heard you were wearing your mother’s dress,” chips in Lisa.