Most of the time they worked day and night, and Caroline had a small studio area set aside in the loft where they lived in SoHo, so she could work at home if she was inspired. She worked most nights and weekends. She was the designer and fashion director of their brand, but Charlie’s contributions were valuable too. He had a head for finance, and a strong sense of design. Caro always showed him her drawings, and he often added some small detail and tweaked them in a way that made them even better. He had a good eye for design.
Caro knew he could have been the designer if he wanted to, but he preferred to be their CFO and handle the business end. They had started the business on a shoestring, with money their father had loaned them and money from investors, and they were now a respected brand. The company was called CCW, and their logo showed a large W at the center of the design with a smaller C on either side, for Charles and Caroline Whittier. They had made a mark on the fashion world and eleven years had flown by, with their dedication to their business. They weren’t afraid of hard work, and the business took precedence above all else, for both of them. As twins, they had always been extremely close. Before they could talk, they had had their own language, and as they grew up, they had an instinctive sense of each other, as though each knew what the other was thinking. When Caroline had doubts about something, she always found that Charlie had them too, and together they found the solution. Sometimes Caroline felt as though they were each half of the same person, and she was sure that it was because they were twins. They looked very much alike, both of them very blond with blue eyes like their mother, and they had her fine features.
Their determination to make a success of their business and the amount of time they put into it had kept them both from forming long-term romantic attachments. Their work was always the priority, and potential romantic partners always found it tedious and somewhat insulting to take second place to their business. Both Caro and Charlie felt young enough at thirty-three to invest time in the brand they were building, and dedicate themselves to serious relationships later. Neither of them was in a hurry to marry and have children. The business was their baby.
Their fashion show was ten days away, and as usual the fabrics from Italy had been late. Then the fabric shipment got stuck in customs and now the sewers were frantically trying to catch up. They had a group of fit models waiting to try on samples. The real models would try them a day or two before the show, and their seamstresses would make the necessary adjustments. Prunella Clark, the well-known British stylist they used for their shows, had already chosen the accessories for each look, from among Caroline’s designs. There were sketches and drawings all over Caro’s office, and she looked possessed as her twin flew past her and stopped for a minute to chat. Her long blond hair was tangled in a knot on top of her head with half a dozen pencils stuck through it. She was wearing a T-shirt and torn jeans and looked like a model herself. So did her brother. He was strikingly handsome. They had both modeled a few times while still in design school, but it was the production end of fashion and having a voice in the trends of the day that interested them. They wanted to be a major brand one day, not just a small one. They both knew that would take a large infusion of money, from a bigger brand like Kering or LVMH, but they didn’t want to be owned by anyone. So far, they only had private investors, who had a small share of the business. Caroline was particularly vehement on the subject. Charlie was more realistic and knew that they’d eventually have to give up more in order to become major players. They had already invested eleven years in their brand and Caro refused to sell a bigger share to anyone. But there was no other way to do it, and Charlie worked on her regularly to convince her. So far he hadn’t, but he hoped he would one day soon so they could go to the next level.
“You look halfway to insane.” He grinned at her, with half a box of pencils in her hair, a smudge of the charcoal she drew with on her cheek, and a pincushion on a strap on her wrist.
“I’m already there,” she said, with a desperate look. “They shorted us on one of the fabrics from Milan. The one for the green evening gown.”
“Change the design,” he suggested rapidly.
“That’s what I’m doing. They sent us so little we’ll be lucky if it doesn’t turn out to be hot pants and a halter top, or a bikini.”
“You can do it, Caro.” He always encouraged her. He had her back and she had his.
“I know, but they do it to us every time, and Customs sat on it, so I didn’t know till this morning that I don’t have enough to make the dress. I may have to make it in a green satin I bought for something else, and I’ll use the green chiffon for number twelve.” She was half talking to herself and half to him.
“You’ll figure it out, you always do.”
“One of my fit models is sick, but,” she said with a huge grin, “Nicola Wickham got in a fight with the designer at Herrera, and she’s walking the show for us,” she said victoriously.
Nicola was the biggest model in New York at the moment, and having her in the show was a major coup. “She’s coming in for a runway fitting at two.” Charlie knew there would be a thousand minor and major victories, tragedies, and cliffhanging moments in the next ten days until the final dramatic moments of the show. They lived on the edge of an abyss constantly, and for them every moment in the fashion business was a life-or-death situation. Caro was as thin as their models and barely ate while they were working on a show. Charlie was fiercely protective of her. They both cared passionately about the reviews they got for each show, which would affect the quantities of their orders from major stores.
The ready-to-wear shows of Fashion Week took place so that the best stores in the country could place their wholesale orders months in advance. Fashion editors from every magazine also came to see the shows to get an advance view of new trends and see which designers were the most talented. Caro and Charlie worked a year in advance, and the day after the show, Caro would start working on the next collection, with sketches of what she already had in her head. Her brother thought she was a genius, and even the critics said she had immense talent. Charlie’s gift for design had taken a backseat to hers, and she was the star of their brand, while he remained in the background, which he preferred. And he had financial knowledge she didn’t.
At night, they went home to the loft they had bought together in order to save money, but also because they loved living together. As long as they were both single, there was no reason not to share an apartment. Their parents were very supportive of their business and proud of them, although their mother worried about the lack of personal life for both of them. Their father was impressed by how hard they worked, and by Charlie’s head for finance. The fashion press called them “the Super-Talented Whittier Twins,” and usually gave them rave reviews. But each show was a moment that could make or break them, and that was how it felt each time, as though their careers were on the line.
“Eat something,” Charlie reminded her, as he sped away for a meeting. She went back to her drawing board, working on adjustments to the green evening gown. It had to be changed now to accommodate the different fabric, which wouldn’t drape in the same way as the fabric they now had too little of. Every day was a crisis leading up to the show. She still had to oversee the final casting of the models and make sure the samples were finished, which they usually weren’t until two hours or less before the show. The fittings had to be impeccable. Every last detail had to be right. She was a perfectionist, and Charlie was equally so. He had just gotten to his office for his meeting when Caro handed off all her changes for the green dress to their patternmaker, who had to cut the pattern again.