Back A Small Affair
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. Part Two
  22. 1
  23. 2
  24. 3
  25. 4
  26. 5
  27. 6
  28. 7
  29. 8
  30. 9
  31. 10
  32. 11
  33. 12
  34. 13
  35. 14
  36. 15
  37. 16
  38. 17
  39. 18
  40. 19
  41. Part Three
  42. 1
  43. 2
  44. 3
  45. 4
  46. 5
  47. 6
  48. 7
  49. 8
  50. 9
  51. 10
  52. EPILOGUE
  53. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  54. Booklist

Since Magdelena has grown, Huda has only gotten more intimidating to look at, a more cliché “fashion” type than I know she actually is. If I were still her employee, if she were still asking me for advice, I would tell her to tone it down. Magdelena is about inclusivity, about stretching what it means to “look” high fashion. I wonder, not for the first time, who she is getting guidance from, who her confidante is now that I’m gone. She has so many more employees now that it could be anyone.

She bypasses the ordering station and immediately sits down, rearranging her long legs to fit around the small table and chairs. She keeps her sunglasses and coat on, too, as if to let me know that she’s short on time, that I’m not important enough to merit even a mere thirty minutes.

How things have changed.

“Vera. How are you? How is your mother’s?” She purses her lips, her voice cool and steady. No “good to see you.”

I know she’s not bullshitting her promise to leave in thirty minutes, so I spare the niceties. “It sucks. I want my job back and here’s how and why.” I open the folder and produce the data I’ve gathered, flipping the folder and sliding it over to her to review. “It has been eight months since you formally let me go. I’ve followed Magdelena’s growth and I’m impressed. The show looked great. I know your goal was always a write-up in the Times Styles Section, so congratulations on that.” She offers me the tiniest smile. “The new pant line is superb, too, the techno knit ones, with drawstring waists.” I pause, letting my compliments wash over her before I go in for the kill.

“But you need me.” I tap the folder. “You’re still growing, yes, but as you’ll notice in the graph on page five, your social numbers have plateaued since I left. Instagram is stagnant and you’re being knocked off in cheaper fabrications. With Barneys closing, you obviously had to rethink some of your accounts. And I admire the ecomm push. I do. But the site isn’t up to the standards that it should be for the brand’s global reach right now. You need to pivot distribution centers. I’m sure the shopping cart abandonment is through the roof right now with your shipping times.” I rattle on, leafing through the pages I’ve put together, the graphs and plans for growth I’d spent the past week typing out.