by Ian Hamilton
Also in the Ava Lee Series
The Dragon Head of Hong Kong: The Ava Lee Prequel (e-book)
The Water Rat of Wanchai
The Disciple of Las Vegas
The Wild Beasts of Wuhan
The Red Pole of Macau
The Scottish Banker of Surabaya
The Two Sisters of Borneo
The King of Shanghai
The Princeling of Nanjing
THE
COUTURIER
OF
MILAN
AN AVA LEE NOVEL
THE TRIAD YEARS
IAN HAMILTON
Copyright © 2017 Ian Hamilton
Published in Canada in 2017 and the USA in 2017
by House of Anansi Press Inc.
www.houseofanansi.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Distribution of this electronic edition via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal. Please do not participate in electronic piracy of copyrighted material; purchase only authorized electronic editions. We appreciate your support of the author’s rights.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Hamilton, Ian, 1946–, author
The couturier of Milan / Ian Hamilton.
(An Ava Lee novel ; 9)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-77089-956-8 (paperback).—ISBN 978-1-77089-957-5 (epub)
ISBN 978-1-77089-958-2 (mobi)
I. Title. II. Series: Hamilton, Ian, 1946– . Ava Lee novel ; 9.
PS8615.A4423C68 2017 C813’.6 C2016-900920-3
C2016-900921-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016950831
Cover design: Alysia Shewchuk
Cover image: Shutterstock
We acknowledge for their financial support of our publishing program the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.
Again, for Lorraine —
and hopefully again and again and again.
( 1 )
Ava Lee thought she knew London. She’d been there as a tourist and on business countless times. After nine months of owning part of a designer clothing line, she also thought she was beginning to understand the fashion industry. But three days into London Fashion Week, she felt far removed from any sense of her usual reality. When she voiced this feeling to May Ling Wong, her friend and business partner, May’s reaction was surprise.
“What are you talking about?” May said. “You’ve been the only calm one this week. Everyone else is running around like headless chickens, me included.”
“What you think is calmness is actually me not knowing how to react to so much chaos. Between preparations for the show, all of the public relations activity, and the hosting of lunches and dinners for existing and potential customers, I’ve had more contact with people in my three days here than I’ve had over the last three months.”
“It does seem a bit mad, I admit, but according to our show director and the public relations people, it’s very typical for Fashion Week here, or any of the big four fashion weeks, for that matter.”
“What a crazy business,” Ava said. “New York, London, Milan, and Paris in four consecutive weeks, and twice every year. I don’t know how people survive it.”
“We’re thankful we got into even one of them. It isn’t easy for new designers to be accepted into the official part of the week.”
“Clark did graduate from Central Saint Martin’s,” Ava said, referring to the famous London design school.
“He did have contacts, thank goodness, but we still had to lobby.”
“I’ve been thinking that I should have arrived just the day before, as I did for the launch in Shanghai. Everything moved so fast there that I didn’t have time to feel out of place.”
“And what would we have done with Pang Fai? You’re the only reason she’s here.”
Pang Fai was the most talented and famous actress in Chinese cinema and had a massive following in Asia. Her films were now also commonly screened in the West, and her fame there was on a rapid upswing. Her popularity had grown accordingly, and in the past few months she’d made many of the “World’s Most Beautiful Women” and “Sexiest Women” lists. Her decision to promote the PÖ line was a coup.
“She’s being paid well enough.”
“We both know that she’s never promoted any products before, let alone a fashion designer. She only agreed to do it because of you, and she only came to London because of you. I don’t know what happened between you and her in Shanghai, but you certainly made an impact.”
Ava shrugged and then shivered. It was late February, and a cold, damp winter still had its grip on London. She and May Ling were standing outside the Corinthia Hotel waiting for their partner, Ava’s sister-in-law Amanda Yee, to join them for the taxi ride to the Shard, the tallest building in the European Union. In just over an hour they were scheduled to introduce their PÖ fashion line there, to the European market and the Western world.
Despite having already been featured on the cover of Hong Kong Vogue and having had a remarkable initial selling season in Asia, PÖ wasn’t a known name in Europe or North America. Their hope was that the launch at the Shard would correct that, and Pang Fai was an important part of their strategy.
While it wasn’t uncommon for actresses to affiliate themselves with specific fashion designers and to attend shows to give support, Pang was going several steps further. Although no one outside the PÖ inner circle knew it, she was going to model in the show. And that was even more remarkable because Pang zealously guarded her privacy and was rarely seen in public outside of film promotion activities.
Ava had originally come up with the idea for having Pang Fai promote the PÖ brand and had secured the actress’s agreement. But the decision had been made to withhold any public mention of her involvement until London Fashion Week. Instead, a stealth campaign was set in motion by the PÖ partners and their British and Chinese PR companies. Hints were dropped on social media and in the local press about the possibility of Pang’s presence and participation in London. The fashion and style magazines were quietly contacted and told to expect a major surprise at the PÖ launch. When they asked if the rumours about Pang were true, no one from PÖ would either confirm or deny the possibility, fuelling even greater interest and making the brand’s debut one of the most anticipated events of Fashion Week.
Ava believed in luck, but she knew that one of the key elements in good fortune is timing, and it seemed to her that things had fallen into place for the PÖ business in an almost preordained way. She had managed to secure Pang Fai’s agreement just before the actress’s profile began to rise in the West. Asia was now the fastest-growing market for luxury-brand companies, and there was an increasing Asian presence on runways and in the magazines. A few Chinese designers had made some impact in the West, but there was still anticipation that a star was going to emerge. Those factors, the PÖ launch, and the promise of Pang Fai’s presence had galvanized public attention, and Ava couldn’t help but feel that the stars were aligned to make PÖ an international hit.
“She’s going to cause a sensation,” May said. “I just hope it doesn’t distract from the clothes.”
We’ll find out soon enough, Ava thought as she checked her watch. Amanda was running a little late, and Ava hoped there wasn’t a last-minute crisis.
Amanda, May Ling, and Ava owned an investment company called Thr
ee Sisters. Amanda, still in her late twenties, handled the day-to-day operations from their office in Hong Kong. May Ling, who was in her mid-forties but looked at least ten years younger, lived in the city of Wuhan in central China and acted as senior advisor and strategist. She and Ava had put in most of the money and were majority shareholders. Ava’s role in the business wasn’t as clearly defined but was no less important. Since the company’s inception, her involvement had cut across finance, marketing, planning, and the building of relationships.
Three Sisters had put money into a furniture-manufacturing company in Borneo, a warehouse and distribution firm that operated out of Shanghai and Beijing, a Hong Kong trading business, and a start-up company that was making revolutionary —or so they hoped —carbon-fibre containers for ocean and air freight shipments, and they had decided to gamble on the talents of Clark Po by putting more than $10 million into his Shanghai-based fashion line.
Despite the Asian locations of all the businesses, Ava still lived in Toronto. The distance and time difference between the partners didn’t present any real difficulties. None of them worked regular eight-hour days, and they were able to communicate well enough by phone, text, email, and video call. It helped that, in addition to being partners, the women were extremely close and shared an extraordinary level of trust.
“I’m sorry for being late,” a voice said.
Ava turned to see Amanda rushing towards them.
“Was there a problem?” she asked.
“No, just the opposite,” Amanda said breathlessly. “Chi-Tze called to tell me that the event site is already buzzing. They’re expecting a full house, and the PR people are predicting that Pang Fai’s appearance will generate outstanding press coverage.”
“Did Chi-Tze mention how Fai is doing?”
“She’s as cool as can be. The other girls, especially the Chinese ones, aren’t quite so composed. The fact that they’re going to be sharing the runway with her might have something to do with it.”
“Do we know what she’s going to be wearing?” Ava asked.
“I don’t have a clue, and neither does Chi-Tze or Gillian. Clark and the show director have been huddling together for days, and Fai was with them yesterday. None of them are talking about what she’s going to wear or when she’ll make her entrance.”
“We should be going,” May interrupted.
They stepped into a taxi and began the trip that would take them across London Bridge to Southwark, on the south side of the Thames River. Ava gazed out the window. The last time she’d been to London she had been working for the debt-collection company she ran with her old partner, Uncle. They had worked together for more than ten years, chasing scam artists and thieves around the world. Uncle had passed away more than a year ago, but he was still part of her life, often appearing in her dreams and memories. She had started the transition into Three Sisters partially at his insistence, just before his death.
“I don’t know if I’m more nervous or excited,” Amanda said as they neared the bridge.
“How is Clark?” Ava asked
“He’s a mess.”
“Good. He was the same in Shanghai, and look how well that turned out.”
“Is Elsa here?” May asked, referring to Elsa Ngan, a friend of Amanda’s and an editor at Hong Kong Vogue. Elsa had been one of PÖ’s first fans.
“Yes, she said there was no way she was going to miss our introduction to the West,” Amanda said. “And by the way, she told me that Carrie Song flew in from Hong Kong yesterday.”
“You say that like it’s unusual. Doesn’t Carrie attend these fashion weeks every year?”
“Evidently not. Normally it’s the head buyers from Lane Crawford and Joyce Boutiques who come to the shows.”
“Thank god for her support,” May said. “Getting probably the best retailer of women’s clothes in Hong Kong and Asia to carry our line was such a coup.”
“Carrying the clothes and selling them are two different things,” Amanda said. “I have no doubt Carrie is here only because we’ve been selling very well.”
“That and the fact that she still feels she owes Ava a debt of gratitude,” May said.
“Are you still having doubts about the setting for the show?” Ava asked, slightly uncomfortable about discussing her relationship with Song. She preferred to believe that it was the quality of Clark’s clothes, not her guanxi, that had been the determining factor in Carrie’s decision to take on the line.
“No. I was thinking about it last night and I believe the director we hired to create the show is being honest when he says it’s the coolest venue he’s ever worked in.”
“Clark loves it,” Amanda said.
The show was to be staged on a vacant floor more than halfway up the eighty-seven-storey Shard. With its floor-to-ceiling windows as a dramatic backdrop, the venue had been converted into a theatre with a stage and a U-shaped runway extending more than thirty metres. Three rows of seats were placed on each side of the runway for the press, photographers, bloggers, retailers, and purchasing groups. The front-row seats were reserved for the major buyers and people of huge influence in the fashion world.
“It is dramatic,” Ava said. “And those silk warlord banners we used in Shanghai are going to look fantastic in that light.”
“We debated about using them again,” Amanda said. “But they worked so well in Shanghai, and we have almost an entirely different audience here, so the director decided to do it.”
“And did you finally decide what to do about music?” May asked.
“We’re going with Cantopop —loud and upbeat,” Amanda said.
They reached the Thames, crossed the bridge, and in a few minutes found themselves on London Bridge Street looking up at the glass-encased Shard.
“This is crazy,” Ava said, as they got out of the taxi and stepped into a crowd of people. “They can’t all be here for the launch.”
“No, this is a busy building most days,” Amanda said. “Follow me.”
It took them ten minutes to work their way through the lobby and into an elevator. The doors opened onto a throng of photographers taking shots of people posing on the red carpet against a backdrop emblazoned with the PÖ logo. Ava didn’t recognize any of them, but Amanda whispered, “The woman with the red hair is a senior editor at Elle.”
Another crowd was gathered near the door to the venue. Ava had never seen so many well-dressed people together in one place. Inside, at least a third of the seats were already taken, mainly those in the second and third rows. Ava, Amanda, and May had been offered front-row seats, but May had been quick to say no.
“We don’t need our egos stroked,” she said. “I’d rather have someone sit there who can help make our company a success.”
“Do you want to go backstage and wish everyone good luck?” Amanda asked as they stepped inside.
“No,” Ava said. “We didn’t in Shanghai. I don’t want us to jinx them.”
“Then I guess that’s a no from me as well,” May said with a laugh.
They took their seats and looked anxiously around. The runway ran from the far end of the room towards the main entrance. The U-shaped design had the added advantage of enabling a maximum number of front-row seats. Five minutes before the show was scheduled to start, there was hardly an empty seat. Ava looked at the seats front-row centre and saw they were full. She breathed a sigh of relief. The director had made it clear that if some of the major buyers and media people were running late, the show wouldn’t start until they got there.
“I saw Carrie and Elsa arrive,” May said. “Besides them, I don’t know a soul.”
“We’re not on home turf anymore,” Ava said.
The lights dimmed and Jacky Cheung’s voice filled the room. Ava felt a slight breeze, and the banners they had brought from Shanghai began to flutter.
Ava sat down between May and Amanda, and when the first model appeared, she reached for their hands. For the next twenty minutes, she didn’t let go
.
After seeing the show in Shanghai, Ava was familiar with the rhythm of the models appearing seconds apart. She knew they were going to show about forty outfits, or “exits” as the director called them, but she quickly lost count. The show was tightly paced, and because of that Ava noticed that instead of one outfit being singularly prominent, it was the general impression that stayed with her. And in this case she was taken by how beautifully cut everything was, how vibrant the linens —Clark Po’s favourite medium —and how well he straddled East and West. His designs hinted at a Western sensibility but still had distinctly Eastern touches, such as cheongsam and bell collars and voluminous cuffs.
Unlike the Shanghai show —where the workers from the PÖ sample factory were in attendance and cheered loudly —the reaction in London was muted, although Ava thought she could hear muttering that seemed to indicate approval. But success in the fashion world was all so subjective, she knew, and skewed to reputation and expectation, and PÖ still lacked the former. One thing that did bode well, she thought, was the number of people taking photos or filming with their smartphones. It seemed as though every other person had a phone aimed at the runway.
Ava lost track of how many models walked by, but she knew the end of the show was approaching and there was still no sign of Pang Fai. “I’m beginning to worry about Fai,” she whispered to May. “Maybe she’s changed her mind about doing this.”
The constant flow of models stopped quite suddenly, and Ava watched the last three women walk past them and disappear backstage. There was a buzz in the air. Ava could detect disappointment in it, and felt a rush of anxiety. Was it possible Pang Fai wouldn’t appear?
Then all the models began streaming onto the runway, followed by Clark, who was wearing white linen slacks with a red silk scarf tied around his waist and a loose-fitting white linen shirt with colourful glass buttons. He took five or six steps forward, stopped, turned, and extended his right arm back towards the runway entrance.
Ava felt time stand still. Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. Then an extraordinarily tall woman stepped onto the runway. She wore a delicately spun black linen coat shot through with thin strands of red and gold. All three colours shimmered under the lights. The coat was tightly fitted and came to just below the knee. The clean, minimalist cut was juxtaposed with a scalloped hem and bell sleeves. The model’s face was obscured by a multi-layered hood trimmed in red.