39. The bidding

"Ninety-five thousand," countered the third bidder.

"One hundred and ten thousand," countered the fourth.

My last piece—a neon-yellow Spring shorts with bright green belt loops and green, square front buttons—had spiked up a bidding war. I gave credits to the tall, blonde model who did it more justice than it deserved. All but three of my modeled pieces had been tendered on, making me four hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars richer.

The bidding price for the Spring shorts was now at one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and all except one bidder were stroking their chins in deep contemplation.

Being an exclusive show, there was just a small crowd of people apart from the five bidders, the eight fashion designers, including me, and the models. Nevertheless, everything was being executed like a real fashion show, with a huge white runway, blinding, flashing light and runway soundtracks.

The models, make-up artists and everything else were provided. All the designers had to