The Guest Editor - Chapter Six
A/N: Hello once again. Lots of Andy in this, with a bit of Nigel and Emily. No Miranda...she will return. Hope you enjoy!
"I'm sure I don't have to be the one to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that what we have on the table before us are copies of Runway and Vogue. I was reading some of them this weekend and I wasn't impressed. It bored me stiff. There was little of interest. Pretty pictures but no innovation. No risks. Nothing exciting. Just model after blank faced model wearing stuff that most people wouldn't be seen dead in - and we call that fashion?" Andy was gesticulating wildly.
Nigel and Emily had to suppress grins at the mention of "stuff".
"Now look here!" said Angie. "How can you come in here, with no experience of fashion whatsoever and criticise us?"
"Which department do you work in? Angie? It is Angie isn't it?" Andy raised an eyebrow.
"Cosmetics."
"Then tell me Angie, is your work influencing global trends or are you merely playing catch up to some nineteen-year old's Instagram account and pouting lips? Not once have I seen the Cosmetics section go viral. For a bunch of 'professionals' being outclassed by a nineteen year old on Instagram or a twenty-two year old on YouTube is a pretty poor performance. To think that it costs them little to nothing to produce something that will be seen by millions around the world every day when it costs us hundreds of thousands of dollars to try to do the same thing once a month. Does any of that make sense to anybody here?"
"Well-" Angie started to protest.
"It's as if all of you have forgotten that we now live in a digital age. Print media barely makes a profit. It's the Runway website that keeps you all in a job. If I want to know what is going on in the world of fashion I can go to any number of blogs, Twitter accounts, Instagram feeds, Facebook pages… We need to up our game if we want to compete. Runway is fast on the road to obsolescence. But, it's not too late. We can fix this."
"How?" asked Emily. She had been expecting a complete evisceration by Andy Sachs but not to such a great extent that it silenced the room.
"Emily, how big is the current edition looking?"
"750 pages."
"Cut it to 150, not including advertising. Nobody reads books anymore."
There was uproar from almost everybody. Everybody except Nigel. Nigel understood.
"That makes 16 pages per department and 6 pages for me."
"How do you expect us to accept this?" asked somebody. "We're less than a week to print."
"I expect your acceptance, or I'll expect your letter of resignation on my desk by close of business today." Andy paused, "There are an innumerable number of people ready and willing to work at this place. If you can't cut it, then please leave and let somebody else have a go instead. That goes," she added, "for all of you."
"150 pages of content will be our minimum. If you need extra pages for any good reason, talk to Emily who will take the ideas she thinks are suitable, to me. In the meantime, I want a single handwritten sheet of A4 to me by 1700 today detailing exactly what you will be putting in your sixteen pages and exactly how many extra pages you want."
"We'll be wanting another fifty at least," said one well-dressed man.
"Talk to Emily. If she thinks it's a good idea, she can bring it to me." Andy said. "As somebody else said, we are less than a week to print. So, I expect you have gathered all the content you need for this month's issue. I think the general theme we were going for is a celebration of 30 years of Miranda. We can put most of it in the Editorial but it might be nice if individual section editors put in their own tributes. But as we are so close to print, I expect you all to have got all the content you need for this issue. If you need to reshoot things, come to myself or Charlotte who will be able to arrange things for you. We are not breaking the bank on reshooting."
"I have an Autumn Collection that needs to be reshot. Miranda disapproved of it."
"Talk to Emily then bring it to me," Andy said curtly.
"What does Miranda think of what you are doing?" asked Angie.
"Miranda doesn't know. No doubt somebody here will take all kinds of joy in telling her exactly how I am ruining the magazine." Andy chuckled. "But, the current system cannot continue. It doesn't pay for itself and isn't financially viable. Be thankful I'm here. I'm the one ensuring that Runway survives for another month."
"Is it really that bad?"
"If you are getting trounced by a teenager when you should be a market leader, then it should be obvious how bad it already is."
"Well-"
"Oh, and two more things: lunch is now officially an hour for as long as I am here and The Book is as of this moment entirely blank. You have a deadline of 1800 in order to get today's work to me to review tonight. We will reconvene in my office tomorrow at 0900 in order to go over today's work. That's all." Andy finished and strode from the room. Charlotte hurried after her.
"Nigel, how can you expect us to work like this? She's worse than Miranda! I thought that wasn't possible."
"When it comes to Andrea Sachs, when she tells you to jump, she doesn't want to be asked 'how high?' You heard her, all of you. If you can't keep up, you may as well leave because you can be easily replaced by somebody who actually wants your job. She was right in every point. We have become complacent, overpriced, repetitive, boring. There hasn't been much innovation for years and we are fast on our way to extinction. Andrea Sachs is a wakeup call." Nigel smirked at their gob-smacked faces.
"You actually support her? She's mad. Emily, please be the voice of reason here!" Michelle implored.
"I agree with Nigel. Miranda appointed her. She must have known exactly what she was going to do. Or if not known, at least guessed. If you have a problem with that, talk to Miranda." Emily said. 'Though I don't envy you,' she added silently.
"Uh-"
"Of course if you don't want to ask Miranda, then you have two options," smiled Nigel. "Do your job…"
"...or resign," Emily finished coolly. "Now, you have just under 8 hours until Ms Sachs' first deadline, I suggest you get to work."
Andy couldn't get back to the elevator bank fast enough. She was amazed that she had been able to escape the room without being stabbed with a stiletto or strangled with a Hermés scarf. Her heels beat a staccato tattoo along the corridor whilst Charlotte hurried behind her.
She finally let out a sigh of relief once the elevator doors pinged closed behind her.
"Wow! That was…" Charlotte began.
"Insane, crazy, nutty, mad?"
"I was going to say inspired."
"First rule of negotiation, overplay your hand so they will be forced to meet your terms exactly as you wanted originally. We'll go to about 350 pages I should think but it's a damn sight better than 750. It gives us extra, interesting content for the website or for the next edition and puts ad space at a premium so we can charge more for it whilst making the magazine cheaper to produce on the whole. Everybody wins in the long term."
"I guess so." Charlotte replied as they exited into the Runway lobby. "So what's next?"
"Next we meet Eleanor." Andy replied, striding through to the ante-office. "I give her a set list of tasks then you and I will be heading over to NYU and FIT to find some spare models and photographers. We won't be needing the big-shots to finish this issue," Andy said. "Ah! You must be Eleanor," her smile quickly turned to surprise, handing her pad to Charlotte she went into Miranda's office. It was full of a combination of flowers and boutique bags. Andy beat a retreat back out to her assistants.
"The flowers are from everybody who is anybody for Miranda. They didn't know which hospital she was in so they sent them direct to the office. The bags are for you." Eleanor explained.
"For me?"
"From the designers."
"I can't possibly take all this," Andy said. "Most of it probably won't fit anyway."
"It's better than the stuff I picked out for you from the Closet," said Charlotte looking through the bags. "Tom Ford, Versace, Lagerfeld, Vivienne Westwood...Dolce and Gabbana got your shoe size wrong. They sent sevens," she looked in one box. Andy had also started digging.
"Chanel got it right though," she grinned, holding up a pair of boots. "They fit nicely as well. Shame that I'm not wearing anything that goes with them at the moment. Burberry sent a nice navy trench," she held up the garment. "That will be useful," she mused.
"Anyway, we have a lot of other stuff to do. Eleanor, if you could spread the flowers out around the offices and send the best to Miranda or to her house. Then if you could sort out these lovely gifts. Anything that is not in my size can be put in the Closet or if either of you take a fancy to it, you can keep it. I'm a four in the dress and an eight and a half in the shoe. I do need a couple of nice pairs of heels and I'll be keeping those Chanel boots. A few coats and bags would also be nice. Block colours though and nothing overly dramatic. It's got to be functional. I don't want to be seen wearing a psychedelic cape around New York. Anything else in my size can be put to one side and I'll sort through it when I have a moment. Pick a bag each and leave the rest for me to sort through. Eleanor, once you've done that, can you make up a dozen copies of the current Book then remind the department heads that I want reasons why they are submitting what they are submitting for final copy. Then get me a couple of large whiteboards on wheels and a large LCD clock. Make up a sign that reads 'countdown to print', set the clock to 1900 on Friday and then hang the sign and the clock in the foyer where everybody can see it. Put the whiteboards in my office, make sure they come with some pens and erasers. If at any point you need to break for lunch, take an hour out but Charlotte should be back by then. Charlotte, have my car waiting downstairs in five minutes, grab your coat, bag and phone and meet me at the elevator in three. Eleanor is manning the desk. If you need a bathroom break or anything, take it and have the receptionist cover for you. We'll be back before lunch. That's all."
"Ms Sachs, I don't have a cell?"
"Eleanor, give Charlotte your cell. Forward on anything important to me or her." Andy strode back to Miranda's desk and grabbed her copy of the Times, bagel, bag and the Burberry trench before sweeping out towards the elevators.
Andy left the building with a flourish, Charlotte hurrying in her wake. They were greeted at the kerb by a uniformed chauffeur in a cap standing next to a brand new, black Mercedes S600 with tinted windows. The chauffeur effortlessly pulled the rear passenger door open for the two of them.
"Ma'am," he touched his cap in greeting as Andy and Charlotte slid into the leather interior. The door shut silently behind them. 'Not armoured or bulletproof then.' Andy noted to herself. Funny, the things you pick up after working for far too long in the Middle East. Even in the Green Zones of the world, it would be seen as uncommon not to have 'upgraded' your Mercedes in such a way.
The driver lowered the dividing screen. "Where to Ma'am?"
"NYU faculty of art and design or FIT. Whichever is closer," Andy smiled. "Actually, can we stop by the New York Times' office first, I just need to grab a couple of things."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Thanks." There was a few moments of silence as the car started to move in the New York traffic. Andy tried to start conversation with the driver; "What happened to Roy?"
"He retired Ma'am. Four years ago."
"Oh...so who are you? Not to be rude or anything but we haven't been introduced."
"Steve. Steve Hastings."
"Have you driven Miranda for long?"
"About 18 months."
"I'm Andrea Sachs, and this is Charlotte. Charlotte is Miranda's new assistant and I'm filling in for Miranda whilst she recovers."
"I heard. Heart attack. Nasty."
"You can say that again." Andy said looking out of the window. The car lapsed into easy silence once again. She dug around in her bag for her NYT key pass.
"We're here Ms Sachs," announced Steve.
"If you and Charlotte wait here, I'll be a few minutes," and with that, Andy left for the office.
"Morning Bobby!" she greeted the security guard as she entered the lobby, dolled up in a few thousand dollars' worth of designer clothing.
"A fine morning it is Andy! You look a million dollars!" he said as Andy swiped through the turnstile.
"Oh? This?" She raised an eyebrow, "I'm just getting started!" She giggled as she twirled around and made for the elevator.
She didn't see Bobby reach for the phone as the elevator doors closed.
So she didn't realise that as she ascended, the newsroom were waiting to surprise her.
The doors pinged open to a smattering of applause.
"Wait! What did I do?" She smiled unsure of herself.
"Who are you and what have you done with Andy Sachs?" somebody called out.
"Well if I knew that arriving late and all dressed up would earn me a standing ovation every morning then I'd do it all the time!" she laughed.
"Andy you look great!"
"Thank you! Thank you!" she gave an extravagant curtesy. "Now don't you guys have more important things to do? Like I don't know? The news?" she checked her watch. "11 hours until final copy for the early edition, people! Get back to work!" she called.
Andy went to her desk and checked her 'in tray'. There were a few envelopes. She grabbed them and stuffed them in her bag. She gave her copy of the day's issue to her deputy, telling him to look at her annotations. Then before she could be asked why she had come back to the office when she should be editing a fashion magazine, she headed to the office of the Images Editor.
"Jeff, I need to borrow a camera."
"Andy! Look at you my dear! You look grown up."
She gave the greying fifty year old an 'aw shucks' look. "Funny, what a little thought in the morning can do to your outfit."
"And may I say you look wonderful."
"That is entirely subjective. I'm not entirely sure if it is just yet. But either way, I need a camera."
"What for?"
"To take some photos of people. I'd use my iPhone but I'd prefer something with a real lens."
"I'm sure I can give you something...how long will you be needing it for?"
"I can get it back by the end of the day."
"Why not use something from Runway?"
"Spur of the moment thing."
"Hmmm…" Jeff started rummaging at the back of his office before finally picking a bag. He unzipped it and checked the camera inside. "That will do the trick. Battery's all charged up but you'll need a new memory card."
"I can stop by a store on the way over."
"Where are you going?"
"Now that would be telling."
"It's a fashion magazine not a leak of classified information, Andy. You can tell me."
"Wait until Friday and then you can find out along with the rest of the world. I'll drop it back tonight."
"Well I hope it works out for you. I might actually have to buy Runway at this rate."
"It's going to be an issue to remember," she said as she waltzed out of the door.
An elevator ride and a goodbye to Bobby later, Andy was settling comfortably in the back of the Mercedes.
"We need to stop by an electronics store."
"Yes, Ma'am."
It didn't take her long to find what she wanted 5 minutes later. Data storage was so cheap. The problem came when she went to pay for it with her credit card.
***CARD ERROR***
Two words on the read-out of the chip and pin device that were a domestic nightmare.
"Do you want to pay by cash?" asked the man at the till.
"Uh…hang-on…" Andy muttered, looking through the cards in her purse before she came across the black corporate credit card Nigel had given her, PIN on a post-it still stuck to it. "This will do it," she said confidently. 'At least I'm spending the company money properly,' she thought as the transaction was processed.
"Steve, which is closer? FIT or NYU?"
"FIT."
"Ok, FIT it is then," Andy replied, glancing at her phone before dialling. "Good morning, this is Andy Sachs from Runway magazine…"
Eleanor had managed to source the whiteboards and the LCD clock as asked. She had made a sign and was hanging the clock and the sign in the lobby when Emily happened upon the scene.
"What on earth is that?" she asked in horror.
"Ms Sachs wanted a countdown clock in the lobby."
"I meant, that," she deadpanned, pointing at the sign.
"It's the sign for the clock."
"You want to hang a large, childish monstrosity in the lobby where any and all can gaze upon it?" she said in disbelief.
"She wanted the clock up and running before she got back. It's to countdown to the print deadline on Friday."
"Typical."
"Pardon?"
"Typical, as if we didn't have enough stress around here already. If Ms Sachs wanted it then Ms Sachs might as well bloody get it then!"
"So should I-?" Emily was uncertain.
"Yes! Yes! Carry on! But please call a professional and get the sign done properly. What is it meant to say any way?"
"Countdown to print."
"Countdown to…" Emily muttered. "I love my job," she sighed. "Well what are you waiting for then?" she raised her eyebrows. "Start the clock!"
Eleanor touched a few buttons on the back and the countdown appeared:
105:00:00
The LCD screen flashed once before the digits changed:
104:59:59
104:59:58
104:59:57
"Ok then. Back to work." Emily marched back to her office.
A/N: Tick, tock, goes the clock… The countdown has begun. Do tell me what you think of this so far. There are a few plot ideas I have running around in my mind. This story will probably continue through to the fashion weeks and then we shall see. All comments, positive or negative, plot ideas or funny jokes are welcome. Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Until the next time.