But THIS wasn’t MY dream! Auntie had left her shop to me. I don’t know why. It wasn’t the sort of shop for me. My business plan was a top-end interior decoration shop, offering the best of international style, furnishings, liaison with other ‘top’ bath and kitchen suppliers. A complete service from carpets to curtains, floor to ceiling.
Not this – not a clothes shop. Selling dresses to women. Daft. The whole idea was stupid. But tempting maybe. An existing clientbase with, apparently, enormous goodwill at a fantastic location.
Time to assess, investigate, learn. som throwething that’s up and running because I wanted something of my own? I’d seen so many try and fail. This was a runner – and it was making a good profit.
So, to Craydon. The site was even better than I’d been told. The place was busy and buzzing. I wandered in to suss out the staff and ambience.
I’d been in there just a few minutes when one of them came up and asked ‘Do you need help? Are you looking for something special for yourself?”
What did she mean? ‘Something for myself’. I’m six foot 3; an ex-rugby player in my mid-thirties. I went all aggressive “I think not. ‘something for myself?! ….. In a woman’s dress shop!’. Do you say that to any man who comes in here. What if you said that to a man with his wife nearby.”
The lass, Betriz, all of mid-twenties, responded vigorously. “That’d be silly. No – I don’t say that to any typical man – but you were looking at the clothes differently than the typical accompanying husband. I’m sorry if I made a mistake.”
“A mistake, yes. But I was looking differently because I’m the new owner.