Only Red Ch. 02

"God this luncheon is a bore," Gloria said. "I think everyone is hung over."

* * *

The leasing agreement was signed with Jazz agreeing to a clause being inserted allowing Arnie to alter the exterior of his premises to suit himself with the proviso the frontage was reinstated to its original appearance when he vacated. Two days later Jazz looked out of her office intrigue when she saw Arnie across the street with a builder looking guy with clipboard taking instructions as they looked across at the store frontage.

Marie her head buyer came up to Jazz rather excited.

"Not only is he cute but he's daring," Mrs Telford said.

"Oh."

"He's only stocking red."

"What?"

"Yes."

"But that suicidal. Men don't wear red."

"Oh no, it's to be a women's boutique and it's to be called 'Only Red'.

"What!"

"Don't be negative Jazz, I think he's just the type to pull it off; he's brimming with ideas."

Jazz and Arnie stopped just short of having their first row that day at lunch.

"This is experimental retailing -- you are a novice and would have been wise to consult me."

"You didn't consult me when you set up your store."

Jazz's eyes flamed: "You weren't around."

"Then that disadvantages me. You should have confidence in me."

"I don't want to see you fail."

Arnie's chin jutted ominously. "That's akin to asking me to fail."

"That's ridiculous."

"Your attitude is mean."

Jazz's chin jutted ominously. "Please change the subject."

"It's a nice day."

"It's a lovely day.

"You look cute when you're mad -- Gawd you tits stick our as well as your chin."

Jazz burst into near-hysterical laughter and stupidly that brought calmness to them and they held hands.

Workmen removed the entire glass frontage and replaced it in new joinery -- full length strips of pattern-stamped heavy gauge aluminum two-feet wide separated by glass strips the same length only one foot wide. After that was finished up went a red neon sign, Only Red.

"How stupid," Jazz fumed to Marie. "He won't be able to display product to lure in passersby."

"Perhaps he will," Marie suggested dryly. She said she'd just come back from lunch and found six women peering in to Only Red through the narrow windows to only see shop fitters at work. "Everything is red, even the cash registers and the credit card zappers," she said.

Later that day Marie reported excitedly -- that big billboard over the second level of above ground at the Hilton has a new sign at least twenty feet long, all in white, over written in just two words..."

"Only Red."

"How did you guess?"

"TV News called me asking me about red shop next to us. Apparently no-one but the boss is allowed to say anything and he's gone to ground."

Marie looked worried. "Oh God, I hope you didn't say he's some guy who's escaped from a secure institution?"

"I was tempted. I said he is a genius able to predict fashion three months before they hit Paris, Tokyo and New York."

"Jazz -- that's brilliant. If they use that quote tonight he'll love you for it."

That night Jazz sat with Cilla nervously; she'd been invited there for dinner. They were on to the second bottle of wine when the TV news began. Already they had seen the same 15-second advertisement -- the screen turned bright red and slowly the words 'Only Red' appeared in white.

"What an idiotic waste of advertising budget," Cilla snorted. "What does it mean?"

"You are probably looking at the work of a genius," Jazz said, scarcely believing what she was saying.

Cilla took a call. "That was Sally, Doctor Maitland's wife. She's been calling her friends asking what the Only Red ad means. She thought I might know."

The phone went twice more: female callers wanting to know if Cilla knew anything about Only Red.

"It's the work of a genius," Cilla said. "My friend who knows says all will be revealed in a full page advertisement in Thursday's newspaper.

Cilla asked Jazz what else she knew.

"Promise to keep this confidential?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"I kill you if you spill the beans."

Cilla, who also was half tipsy, replied: "I'd expect that to be my fate."

"The store will sell only items in red -- from hair combs down to heel tips for shoes."

"What an idiot -- who'd shop there?"

"I know, I had the same difficulty. But now I believe it will work. People who want to ride the wave of fashion in red will shop there. Half of my sales clerks have already asked if they can work there. Tonight almost my entire staff is unpacking the containers of red clothing and accessories from around the world and stocking the shelves and display cabinets and stands. I know I'll shop there -- I've always wanted a red corset -- not the kind you wear darling -- and Marie showed me a sample of one. We both have pre-ordered one."

"I've always fancied a red leather coat."

"Wrong season Cilla, but Marie says she's indented some amazing red Italian jackets in a full range of sizes."

"But he'll be taking custom away from you."

Jazz smiled. "That's one way of looking at it. I think the other way -- he'll be drawing people into Piccadilly Street which is becoming the women's fashion street of the city. Anyway those shoppers wanting to buy other items not in red will enter next-door to my premises. Oh, here's something from Arnie for you; there are only thirty in existence so they are very precious."

"What is it? Oh, it's an invitation to Only Red's cocktail party on Thursday night. How wonderful. Who's going?"

"Just you, I, his old friend Gloria, Gloria's mother Grace, a lovely older Australian woman called Shelia Wild and someone called Iona McKenzie who I don't know. All the rest are media people, mostly those involved in retail and fashion sectors."

They found out later that Iona McKenzie was Arnie's cleaning lady, a lovely person.

* * *

The 4:00 to 6:00 cocktail party was really laid back -- no music, no scheduled speeches; guests just talked to each other and had their opportunity to interface with their unknown host. Arnie mingled well, kissed both Jazz and Cilla and at the closing thanked everyone for attending and for wishing him well. He then announced he was off to appear live for ten minutes on the 'Behind the News of the Day' program that followed the TV10's news bulletin.

Cilla invited Jazz over for a drink and dinner and to watch Arnie on TV. He was dressed in a tan suit and cream shirt with open collar, looking very debonair.

Charlotte Kew: This gimmick of yours, Only Red. Women are going crazy wanting to know what it means. Please tell me Arnold.

Arnie: It's high fashion, it's all about classy clothing and accessories but in only one color red.

Charlotte: But why red? Red reached its peak four years ago, so I've been told by our fashion consultants.

Arnie: True. But let me say this: Why are we dictated by Paris and Milan as to what color is 'big' this season. I decided that America should decide what color is fashion this season and being an American I've given it my best shot. If women disagree with me they have only to boycott my store. However, I would point out that red was the in color five years ago -- not four as your consultants told you, and even the Gnomes of Zurich know that some elements of fashion follows a five-year cycle.

Charlotte: Ohmigod, you're right. I purchased my red satin strapless bustier almost exactly five years ago. It's my prize underwear possession as it's been responsible for some really hot moments. Oops, what am I saying?

Arnie: Five years is a long time in the life of an undergarment Charlotte. I suggest you should visit our store as we have a full range of replacements -- but only in red. But don't stop there -- we have everything thing in red from ear-rings to elegant travel bag sets.

Charlotte: Oooh, Arnie. I'll be outside your store when it opens tomorrow at 10:00 at 33 Piccadilly Street. This is so exciting, Thank you for being such an exiting guest, Arnie. I must now prepare myself for a discussion on the declining standards of literacy of our young people who are addicted to writing text messages on their mobile phones. You said the full range of sizes of bustiers didn't you.

Arnie: I did -- perhaps I could personally fit you, Charlotte; you are so awfully cute.

Charlotte: Oh Arnie. Why do you think you have caught the wave? Arnie: Because although I don't know a rat's ass about women's fashion I know the fashion industry had fallen off the tracks: women should be dressing and making themselves beautiful for men; not to appeal to other women. Women have been misdirected by Paris, London, Milan, Tokyo, New York and the scores of other trend-setting centers.

Charlotte: Wow, Arnie. That's tossing a bomb. Sorry, we are out of time. Goodnight.

Jazz and Cilla sat in front of the TV stunned for a few moments until Cilla drawled, "For someone who processes not to know about fashion, I think he's hit the button. Boom! The reaction will be massive over this."

"I hope not -- if it does Only Red will be massively boycotted," Jazz said.

"Oh, his potential custom is massive now is it; haven't you changed your tune?"

Jazz looked jaded. "I really don't know what to think Cilla."

* * *

Arnie was at home playing on his keyboard, albeit not very well, when he took a call.

"Arnie -- this is Charlotte Kew. Sorry to disturb you but can you come to the studio urgently. Our network in New York wants you to go on Face-to-Face with Eritrea Ireland at 9:30 live. It's nationwide, Arnie. Our station has never been involved in a coast-to-coast direct broadcast in its 27-year history."

"Oh, is that good?"

"It's colossal, Arnie. We have a hired limo on the way to collect you. Dress conservatively Arnie -- everyone will be watching, perhaps even the President."

"Have you been drinking Charlotte?"

"No, of course not. Well, just a couple -- we have started celebrating our finest hour."

"What does this dame want to prattle on about?"

"America fashion, Arnie. Apparently you are the only one in recent times to stick it to foreign fashion world and our New York upstarts. A segment of your interview went as last item on the network news and causes an immediate furor. Miss Ireland is a socialite snob, Arnie and will be out to castrate you, if I may use that term. She usually only picks people she intends to humiliate. The station bosses here believe you are tough enough to take a drubbing and I rather think Miss Ireland might be in for a shock."

"Does the limo have a bar?"

"Yes Arnie."

"Then I'll do it."

Arnie caused consternation when he arrived at the studio dress in a green corduroy shirt, brown corduroy trousers with braces, yellow riding boots and a leather driving hat with chin strap and goggles sitting above the brim.

Charlotte screamed and pretended to have almost fainted and the director said Arnie couldn't go on like that so Arnie said good night and headed for the exit. Executives screamed and ran after him to bring him back.

The station president, weaving on his feet and holding a whisky glass, said, "Be your own guy, Arnie. Go stick it to New York."

At the test link the woman who identified herself as Miss Eritrea Ireland said to Arnie, "Are you an idiot or truly insane?"

"Are those diamonds around you neck paste Trea?"

"I'm Miss Ireland to you," she snarled.

"I bet you purchased that dress from Paris." She smiled but that changed when Arnie added, "At the French equivalent to J C Penny's."

"Can we arrange a substitute person to interview," she screamed but the producer yelled, his face showing signs of panic, "No, thirty-five seconds to go!"

"Just remember Miss Ireland," Arnie said softly, "attempt to humiliate me and I'll pull your ovaries out by my left hand. My family live in New York and chances are they're be watching."

Miss Ireland sat down heavily on her chair and pressed her sweat towel against her forehead, bringing make-up specialists hurrying to her.

Eritrea: Good evening Mr Guy, you have attempted to rattle the women's world of fashion this evening by your ill-considered remarks. Why are you dressed so peculiarly?

Arnie: Good evening Miss Ireland. You are certainly looking chic in your Jean-Paul Gautier gown and your antique diamond necklace.

Eritrea: You recognized my gown; I am impressed.

Arnie: No, I had a quiet word to your personal assistant before we came on air. I know little about fashion, even less about women's fashion.

Eritrea: Then you admit to being a fraud?

Arnie: Good heavens no; I'm sincere. I've just ignored the [Bleep!] and come up with an intelligent appraisal.

Eritrea: You are dressed like an oddball -- do you ever dress fashionably?

Arnie: Ah -- so if it's not this year's fashion it's not fashion? How trite and commercially manipulative; I own and drive regularly a British 1935 MGTA soft top. The clothes I'm in were the height of fashion by gentlemen of substance who drove MG sports cars prior to the Second World War.

Eritrea: My apologies. You have authenticated your right to wear such clothing and I love those dinky pre-war English cars. Back to your so-called foreign fashion exposé and adding New York of course: What are you -- a teaching professor in fashion, a women's fashion consultant, a media high priest in good taste or just a guy off the street?

Arnie: Well, you have presented me with a limited choice so I'll have to opt for a guy off the street. The reality is I'm a 31 year old retired property developer with a lot of time to think because I live alone.

Eritrea: But not an ordinary guy. Our research shows you are a self-made man worth an estimated $40 to $50 million.

Arnie: That estimate of personal wealth is about as unreliable as fashion commentator predicting what the foreign fashion houses will toss to Milady in the next six months. It's true I do have cash and perhaps could be described as being self-made but I received a generous supply of seeding funding from my father and grandfather. But this is not discussing fashion and incidentally my whole comment has been focused on color and nothing else.

Eritrea: So you as a self-appointed guru have predicted red as the next fashion color. Why?

Arnie: In dyes there are three primary colors - red, blue and yellow - and to those we can add white and black which although are not colors we call them that for convenience. So for the purpose of this primer, we have five 'colors' that I am claiming move in a cycle to provide any upcoming season's so-called 'fashion color', Of course there are a huge range of color mix spin offs to widely broaden the spectrum -- for example, cream as a variation of white and chartreuse originally called yellow-green of which its complementary or opposite color is violet. My theory is that the underlying base fashion color moves in this cycle -- ignored by many fashion houses of course striving to do their own thing to demonstrate a 'difference'. Even so I looked back at dominant colors over seasons for the past twenty years and satisfied myself that the next underlying base fashion color will be red, so I decided to humor myself by opening my own store and selling only red three to six months ahead of the coming trend.

Eritrea: And if you're wrong?

Arnie: That will blow my theory that I believe is based on fact.

Eritrea: An expensive way to prove a theory?

Arnie: It has amused me, kept my busy, challenged me to turn the whole venture into a profit and items in my store will sell, there is no question about that. My store ready for its official opening tomorrow is right now fully stocked and the atmosphere is magic and the range of red fashion is mind boggling. We expect quite a number of women and men buying for women or attending to a fetish will turn up for our opening so we will limit customer entry to thirty people at any one time.

Eritrea: For the interest and possible enjoyment of viewers we now switch live to Amanda Hunt in Hollow Valley, Illinois. Hello Amanda -- Ohmigod, what are your wearing?

"Good evening Eritrea. I feel wonderful," Amanda reported excitedly. "Everything you can see me wearing comes from Only Red -- the shoes, stockings, thong, corset, necklace, ear-rings and this wonderful hat. Is all red boring? Let the people be the judge."

"Quite, Eritrea said warmly. The frontage of the store looks difference; it's all red with pokey window strips for goodness sake."

"Yes, don't ask my why Eritrea but women gaze through those strips -- it's almost 9:50 at night here and we had to clear women away so we could film the frontage uncluttered. Earlier this evening Mr Arnold Guy gave us the opportunity to present this exclusive preview of what lies behind those doors -- but first please excuse me while I put on my red frock coat -- our camera-man is complaining I'm making his hands shake dressed like this and the sound technician already has dipped his microphone into camera view."

"You mustn't upset the natives Amanda. So in we go."

Eritrea: Well there you are viewers -- an overpowering sense of red but beautifully presented and the range of stock is unbelievable. Personally I've never fancied red as my color choice in clothing but that corset and that hat -- oh my, didn't Amanda look wonderful. Well Arnold, all the best for your opening tomorrow. Tell me, what follows after red?

Arnie: I'm afraid I cannot divulge that, Eritrea. Take away the mystique that surrounds fashion and you're plunging it towards the ho-hum atmosphere that surrounds the clothing section of a street market.

Eritrea: Thank you Arnold. In a surprising way you have been my most colorful guest over the past year.

Arnie: Thank you and your team's enterprise in daring to have me on your show.

Cilla and Jazz stood and clapped as the credits for the Eritrea Ireland Show were screened.

"This is an aush...aush...auspicious entry into retailing for our Mr Guy," Jazz said.

"Indeed," Cilla said and looking concerned asked, "Are you okay to drive home?"

"I have only to walk across to my house," Jazz said, hiccupping.

They laughed happily.

* * *

Someone from the control room called "Thanks Arnold" and as the lights dimmed Charlotte Kew handed Arnie a beer and kissed him shyly.

"I've lost some of my shyness; I've been drinking," she smiled. "You were great -- everyone is so pleased with me for my interview which caught the attention of New York. You have no idea what this could do to my career. With luck I am now being watched."

Arnie looked at the younger woman's chest which looked a bit droopy, suggesting no bra. "I wish you luck -- career breaks don't come every day. You're also worth looking at. Men control your industry -- I'd suggest you wear a bra to improve your uplift, wear tighter clothing and more make-up to accent your natural features -- an expert should take a look at your hair."

"Oh, you really think so? Come to make-up and I'll clean up your face," she said, taking his hand. "My problem is my husband is conservative. He hates me not wearing a bra but if I push these babies up and out he'll have kittens. And more make-up, oh God."

"Do you tell him how to dress, shave or which side to part his hair and what type of under daks to wear?"

"No, why should I?"

"Exactly. You need to sit his down over drinks, ensure his mood is good and begin to talk to him about your career and what your goals are. Encourage him to engage in dialogue about it and then tell him he's going to have to accept seeing some changes in you. Don't ask him for his permission, don't become aggressive and tell him; just explain quietly and confidently that he can expect to see some changes and emphasize that's how it's going to be and it's going to make you a whole lot happier and he'll benefit from you upgrading your image. Remember to say those words: upgrading your image."