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Authors: Isabel Wolff
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dress by … who was it again?’ He opened the catalogue. ‘Madame Grès – whoever she was.’ I was outraged. He didn’t even know what it was that he’d been bidding for. ‘You must be pleased,’ he added.
‘Yes.’ I resisted the temptation to tell him that I was far from pleased with the price.
He tucked the catalogue under his arm. ‘To be honest, I could have gone on bidding.’
I stared at him. ‘Really?’
‘But then I looked at your face, and when I saw how intensely you seemed to want it, I decided to let you have it.’
‘Oh.’ I nodded politely. Was the wretch expecting me to thank him? If he’d quit the race earlier, he’d have saved me two grand.
‘Are you going to wear it to some special occasion?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I replied frigidly. ‘I just … adore Madame Grès. I collect her gowns.’
‘Then I’m delighted that you got this one – anyway.’ He adjusted the knot of his Hermès silk tie. ‘That’s me done for the day.’ He glanced at his watch and I caught a glint of antique Rolex. ‘Will you be bidding for anything else?’
‘Good God, no – I’ve blown the budget.’
‘Oh dear – so it was a case of hammer horror, was it?’
‘It was rather.’
‘Well … I guess that’s my fault.’ He gave me an apologetic smile and I noticed that his eyes were large and deep brown with hooded lids that gave him a slightly sleepy expression.
‘Of course it’s not your fault.’ I shrugged. ‘That’s how auctions work.’ As I knew only too well.
‘Yes please, madam?’ I heard the cashier say.
I turned round and handed her my credit card. As I did so I asked her to make out the invoice to Village Vintage, then I sat on the blue leather bench and waited for my lots to be brought out.
Mr Pin-Stripe completed his payment then came and sat next to me while he waited for his purchases.As we sat there, side by side, not talking now because he was reading his BlackBerry – with a slightly intense air I couldn’t help noticing – I found myself wondering how old he was. I stole a glance at his profile. His face was quite lined. Whatever his age, he was attractive with his iron filings hair and aquiline nose. He was forty-three-ish, I decided as a porter handed us our respective carrier bags. I felt a thrill of ownership as my bag was handed to me. I quickly checked the contents then gave Mr Pin-Stripe a valedictory smile.
He stood up. ‘Do you know …?’ he glanced at his watch ‘… all that bidding has made me hungry. I’m going to pop into the café over the road. I don’t suppose you’d feel like joining me, would you? Having bid so vigorously against you, the least I can do is to buy you a sandwich.’ He extended his hand. ‘My name’s Miles, by the way. Miles Archant.’
‘Oh. I’m Phoebe. Swift. Hi,’ I added impotently as I shook his hand.
‘So?’ He was looking at me enquiringly. ‘Can I interest you in an early lunch?’
I was amazed at the man’s audacity. He a) didn’t know me from Eve and b) clearly had a wife or girlfriend – a fact he knew that I knew because I’d overheard him on his mobile.
‘Or just a cup of coffee?’
‘No, thank you,’ I said calmly. I presumed he made a habit of picking up women in auction houses. ‘I have to … get back now.’
‘To … work?’ he enquired pleasantly.
‘Yes.’ I didn’t have to say where.
‘Well, enjoy the dress. You’ll look stunning in it,’ he added as I turned to leave.
Unsure whether to be indignant or delighted I gave him an uncertain smile. ‘Thanks.’
THREE
On my return I showed Annie the two dresses. I told her that I’d had to fight for the Madame Grès, though I didn’t go into details about Mr Pin-Stripe.
‘I wouldn’t worry about the cost,’ she said as she gazed at the gown. ‘Something as magnificent as this should transcend such … petty considerations.’
‘If only,’ I said wistfully. ‘I still can’t believe how much I
‘Yes.’ I resisted the temptation to tell him that I was far from pleased with the price.
He tucked the catalogue under his arm. ‘To be honest, I could have gone on bidding.’
I stared at him. ‘Really?’
‘But then I looked at your face, and when I saw how intensely you seemed to want it, I decided to let you have it.’
‘Oh.’ I nodded politely. Was the wretch expecting me to thank him? If he’d quit the race earlier, he’d have saved me two grand.
‘Are you going to wear it to some special occasion?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I replied frigidly. ‘I just … adore Madame Grès. I collect her gowns.’
‘Then I’m delighted that you got this one – anyway.’ He adjusted the knot of his Hermès silk tie. ‘That’s me done for the day.’ He glanced at his watch and I caught a glint of antique Rolex. ‘Will you be bidding for anything else?’
‘Good God, no – I’ve blown the budget.’
‘Oh dear – so it was a case of hammer horror, was it?’
‘It was rather.’
‘Well … I guess that’s my fault.’ He gave me an apologetic smile and I noticed that his eyes were large and deep brown with hooded lids that gave him a slightly sleepy expression.
‘Of course it’s not your fault.’ I shrugged. ‘That’s how auctions work.’ As I knew only too well.
‘Yes please, madam?’ I heard the cashier say.
I turned round and handed her my credit card. As I did so I asked her to make out the invoice to Village Vintage, then I sat on the blue leather bench and waited for my lots to be brought out.
Mr Pin-Stripe completed his payment then came and sat next to me while he waited for his purchases.As we sat there, side by side, not talking now because he was reading his BlackBerry – with a slightly intense air I couldn’t help noticing – I found myself wondering how old he was. I stole a glance at his profile. His face was quite lined. Whatever his age, he was attractive with his iron filings hair and aquiline nose. He was forty-three-ish, I decided as a porter handed us our respective carrier bags. I felt a thrill of ownership as my bag was handed to me. I quickly checked the contents then gave Mr Pin-Stripe a valedictory smile.
He stood up. ‘Do you know …?’ he glanced at his watch ‘… all that bidding has made me hungry. I’m going to pop into the café over the road. I don’t suppose you’d feel like joining me, would you? Having bid so vigorously against you, the least I can do is to buy you a sandwich.’ He extended his hand. ‘My name’s Miles, by the way. Miles Archant.’
‘Oh. I’m Phoebe. Swift. Hi,’ I added impotently as I shook his hand.
‘So?’ He was looking at me enquiringly. ‘Can I interest you in an early lunch?’
I was amazed at the man’s audacity. He a) didn’t know me from Eve and b) clearly had a wife or girlfriend – a fact he knew that I knew because I’d overheard him on his mobile.
‘Or just a cup of coffee?’
‘No, thank you,’ I said calmly. I presumed he made a habit of picking up women in auction houses. ‘I have to … get back now.’
‘To … work?’ he enquired pleasantly.
‘Yes.’ I didn’t have to say where.
‘Well, enjoy the dress. You’ll look stunning in it,’ he added as I turned to leave.
Unsure whether to be indignant or delighted I gave him an uncertain smile. ‘Thanks.’
THREE
On my return I showed Annie the two dresses. I told her that I’d had to fight for the Madame Grès, though I didn’t go into details about Mr Pin-Stripe.
‘I wouldn’t worry about the cost,’ she said as she gazed at the gown. ‘Something as magnificent as this should transcend such … petty considerations.’
‘If only,’ I said wistfully. ‘I still can’t believe how much I
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