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Authors: Sophie Kinsella
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in the world.People will call me the Girl in the Gray Cardigan. I’ll be able to
live
in it. Really, it’s an investment.
After lunch, I have to go and visit Image Store to choose a front-cover picture for the next issue. This is my absolute favorite job—I can’t understand why Philip always offloads it onto someone else. It basically means you get to go and sit drinking coffee all afternoon, looking at rows and rows of transparencies.
Because, of course, we don’t have the editorial budget to create our own front covers. God, no. When I first started out in journalism, I thought I’d be able to go to shoots, and meet models, and have a really glamorous time. But we don’t even have a cameraman. All our sorts of magazines use picture libraries like Image Store, and the same images tend to go round and round. There’s a picture of a roaring tiger that’s been on at least three personal finance covers in the last year. Still, the readers don’t mind, do they? They’re not exactly buying the magazines to look at Kate Moss.
The good thing is that Elly’s editor doesn’t like choosing front covers either—and they use Image Store, too. So we always try to work it that we’ll go together and have a good natter over the pics. Even better, Image Store is all the way over in Notting Hill Gate, so you can legitimately take ages getting there and back. Usually I don’t bother going back to the office. Really, it’s the perfect way to spend a weekday afternoon.
I get there before Elly and mutter, “Becky Bloomwood from
Successful Saving,”
to the girl at reception, wishing I could say “Becky Bloomwood from
Vogue”
or “Becky Bloomwood from
Wall Street Journal.”
Then I sit on a squashy black leather chair, flicking through a catalogue of pictures of glossy happy families, until one of the trendy young men who works there comes and leads me to my own illuminated table.
“I’m Paul,” he says, “and I’ll be looking after you today. Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Well …” I say, and pull out my notebook. We had a meeting about the cover yesterday and eventually decided on “Portfolio Management: Getting the Right Balance.” And before your head falls off with boredom, let me just point out that last month, the cover line was “Deposit Accounts: Put to the Test.”
Why can’t we just
once
put self-tanning creams to the test instead? Oh well.
“I’m looking for pictures of scales,” I say, reading off my list. “Or tightropes, unicycles …”
“Balancing images,” says Paul. “No problem. Would you like a coffee?”
“Yes, please,” I beam, and relax back in my chair. You see what I mean? It’s so nice here. And I’m being
paid
to sit in this chair, doing nothing at all.
A few moments later, Elly appears with Paul, and I look at her in surprise. She’s looking really smart, in an aubergine-colored suit and high heels.
“So it’s swimmers, boats, and European images,” says Paul to her.
“That’s it,” says Elly, and sinks into the chair beside me.
“Let me guess,” I say. “Something about floating currencies.”
“Very good,” says Elly. “Actually, it’s ‘Europe: Sink or Swim’?” She says it in an incredibly dramatic voice, and Paul and I both start giggling. When he’s walked away, I look her up and down.
“So how come you’re so smart?”
“I always look smart,” she parries. “You know that.” Paul’s already wheeling trolley-loads of transparencies toward us and she looks over at them. “Are these yours or mine?’
She’s avoiding the subject. What’s going on?
“Have you got an interview?” I say, in a sudden flash of genius. She looks at me, flushes, then pulls a sheet of transparencies out of the trolley.
“Circus acts,” she says. “People juggling. Is that what you wanted?”
“Elly! Have you got an interview? Tell me!”
There’s silence for a while. Elly stares down at the sheet, then looks up.
“Yes,” she
live
in it. Really, it’s an investment.
After lunch, I have to go and visit Image Store to choose a front-cover picture for the next issue. This is my absolute favorite job—I can’t understand why Philip always offloads it onto someone else. It basically means you get to go and sit drinking coffee all afternoon, looking at rows and rows of transparencies.
Because, of course, we don’t have the editorial budget to create our own front covers. God, no. When I first started out in journalism, I thought I’d be able to go to shoots, and meet models, and have a really glamorous time. But we don’t even have a cameraman. All our sorts of magazines use picture libraries like Image Store, and the same images tend to go round and round. There’s a picture of a roaring tiger that’s been on at least three personal finance covers in the last year. Still, the readers don’t mind, do they? They’re not exactly buying the magazines to look at Kate Moss.
The good thing is that Elly’s editor doesn’t like choosing front covers either—and they use Image Store, too. So we always try to work it that we’ll go together and have a good natter over the pics. Even better, Image Store is all the way over in Notting Hill Gate, so you can legitimately take ages getting there and back. Usually I don’t bother going back to the office. Really, it’s the perfect way to spend a weekday afternoon.
I get there before Elly and mutter, “Becky Bloomwood from
Successful Saving,”
to the girl at reception, wishing I could say “Becky Bloomwood from
Vogue”
or “Becky Bloomwood from
Wall Street Journal.”
Then I sit on a squashy black leather chair, flicking through a catalogue of pictures of glossy happy families, until one of the trendy young men who works there comes and leads me to my own illuminated table.
“I’m Paul,” he says, “and I’ll be looking after you today. Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Well …” I say, and pull out my notebook. We had a meeting about the cover yesterday and eventually decided on “Portfolio Management: Getting the Right Balance.” And before your head falls off with boredom, let me just point out that last month, the cover line was “Deposit Accounts: Put to the Test.”
Why can’t we just
once
put self-tanning creams to the test instead? Oh well.
“I’m looking for pictures of scales,” I say, reading off my list. “Or tightropes, unicycles …”
“Balancing images,” says Paul. “No problem. Would you like a coffee?”
“Yes, please,” I beam, and relax back in my chair. You see what I mean? It’s so nice here. And I’m being
paid
to sit in this chair, doing nothing at all.
A few moments later, Elly appears with Paul, and I look at her in surprise. She’s looking really smart, in an aubergine-colored suit and high heels.
“So it’s swimmers, boats, and European images,” says Paul to her.
“That’s it,” says Elly, and sinks into the chair beside me.
“Let me guess,” I say. “Something about floating currencies.”
“Very good,” says Elly. “Actually, it’s ‘Europe: Sink or Swim’?” She says it in an incredibly dramatic voice, and Paul and I both start giggling. When he’s walked away, I look her up and down.
“So how come you’re so smart?”
“I always look smart,” she parries. “You know that.” Paul’s already wheeling trolley-loads of transparencies toward us and she looks over at them. “Are these yours or mine?’
She’s avoiding the subject. What’s going on?
“Have you got an interview?” I say, in a sudden flash of genius. She looks at me, flushes, then pulls a sheet of transparencies out of the trolley.
“Circus acts,” she says. “People juggling. Is that what you wanted?”
“Elly! Have you got an interview? Tell me!”
There’s silence for a while. Elly stares down at the sheet, then looks up.
“Yes,” she
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