The Pink Suit: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

youth. There were so many people; there was so much noise.
    â€œAmericans,” she sighed.
    When the moon rose pink over Paris—at least, that was the way the Ladies would later tell the story—Chanel finally decided that they could have the suit. However, if this particular Chanel was to go to America, to be made by American hands, there would have to be restrictions and agreements set in place. Especially if Cassini was to be anywhere near it. The man’s aesthetic was vulgar, or, as he called it, “sexy”: all high slits, low necklines, and high drama. No subtlety. No sensuousness.
    As for the question of how much, Chanel wrote down a very large figure, indeed.
    When Chanel’s telegram arrived the next day, Sophie showed the ransom note, as she called it, to Nona, and they laughed. Their reply went out an hour later: Sharpen your pencil and recalculate.
    While Chanel, the person, was not easily copied, the same could not be said for the suit. It was a very simple design. The finished product might not have all the Chanel touches, nor the exact fit or feel, but it would be similar and could be made in half the time and at a fraction of the cost. A copy of the blouse alone would cost only $3 to make, but the Ladies could charge $300 for it—and everyone would be happy to pay. Purchasing the toile and license was ridiculous and impractical, but Maison Blanche insisted. Chez Ninon would also be forced to pay Chanel for the right to use the material, the signature gold chain that would be sewn into the hem to help the jacket hang properly, and the gold “CC” buttons. The buttons alone would be $250.
    Chez Ninon usually charged $3,500 for one of their “Chanel” suits, which were made from similar-looking fabric and buttons but run off on machines with a very limited amount of hand finishing. Unfortunately, Maison Blanche had made it quite clear that the entire suit couldn’t cost more than $1,000, preferably $850 or less. There wasn’t even a way to take a shortcut or two. The pink suit was to be a line-by-line copy and so must be entirely sewn by hand. It would be impossible to make a profit or break even—perhaps that was why Maison Blanche did not ask Cassini—but the Ladies could not turn it down. To dress a socialite was one thing, but to dress that same socialite when she became the First Lady was an honor they could not easily pass up.
    Miss Nona marked the suit in on the production schedule.
    â€œThat’s just eight weeks to delivery,” Sophie said.
    â€œChanel will give it up in the end,” Miss Nona said, but she didn’t sound sure.
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    When a week passed without a telegram or phone call, without any response at all, Miss Nona’s confidence waned. She began to wonder if asking for a discount from an icon might be perceived as—she couldn’t think of the right word.
    â€œUnseemly?” Sophie said. “Insulting?”
    Miss Nona was hoping for “amusing.”
    She knew that this could be a very expensive miscalculation. Miss Sophie had already ordered the fabric from Chanel’s supplier Linton Tweeds, in Cumbria—the price of the yardage nearly made her heart stop. They should have waited for Chanel to agree. They couldn’t use the fabric at all without her consent, but they were running out of time. The suit was to be worn the first week in November, just seven weeks away. The President was planning a family weekend. It would be the first time they would visit Camp David—and there was a very good chance that it would be the last. The Wife had already rented a place in the country near Washington, where she kept horses. It was quite clear to the Ladies that the Wife needed this pink suit to convey a strong sense of cheerful femininity—and an unflagging reasonable nature—so that when the First Lady announced that this camp of David was too backwater, she would be photographed looking