How Not to Shop Read Online Free

This was exiting in a blaze of glory. For good. For ever.
     
She cast her eyes about the richly carpeted suite with its pink velvet curtains and bright pink sofas. There would be no more hanging out here with her clients, old and new. No more gazing critically into those full length mirrors with them, no more delving through the racks of wonderful, wonderful clothes brought up from the glittering white and glass floors of dazzling fashion.
     
There was no doubt in Annie's mind that almost as much as the people here, she was going to miss the clothes. Not to mention the staff discount which had let her build a vividly colourful and totally eclectic wardrobe. From Prada to Primark, from Alexander McQueen to Zara, her wardrobe (now stretched across three wardrobes, plus all the boxes and bags in the spare room) covered the entire spectrum.
     
Over in one corner of the suite was the little cubicle which had served her as an office for all this time. She'd already unplugged her laptop and packed it away in its case. She'd taken down the family snaps from her walls, heaved a huge collection of fashion magazines into the recycling bin and packed up all the assorted belongings that had accumulated in her desk drawers over the years: lost buttons, snagged stockings, pins, pens, badges, Polaroids of customers, thank-you letters from delighted clients.
     
It had taken nearly an hour, and plenty of quiet tears, to get through it all. Now, at 9 p.m. exactly, The Store was shutting its doors for the night and the staff, along with Annie's family and friends, were coming up to the suite to drink her health and wish her well.
     
'You all right there, my love?' Paula, her beautiful, lean, black, soon to be ex-assistant, called out as she sped into the room on teetering heels with an enormous platter of canapés in her arms.
     
'Yeah, definitely!' Annie tried to chirp back brightly, but it didn't sound quite convincing.
     
Paula set down the canapés, then swooped over and treated Annie to a long-limbed hug.
     
'I'm gutted that you're leaving us,' Paula told her. 'I'd be insulted if you weren't upset, girl. But it's so great for you. You're going to be on the telly. You're going to be a star! From now on the Annie Valentine touch isn't just for the ladies who can afford to shop here, it's for everyone!'
     
Well, everyone who watches the Home Sweet Home Channel, which, by the way, I hadn't even heard of until yesterday , Annie thought.
     
With a lump building in her throat, she told Paula, 'That is so sweet, babes, that is just so sweet,' and hugged her tight.
     
'Let's take a look at you,' Paula said, stepping back to scrutinize the woman who had been her mentor.
     
Annie's hair was tied up in its trademark high ponytail. Her lightly tanned face with hazel eyes, small features and ready smile looked bright and alert. Paula thought this had everything to do with Annie's session down on the cosmetics floor with the very talented girl at the Bobbi Brown counter. She didn't know about the Botox.
     
'You look gorgeous,' Paula was quick to compliment her. 'You're rockin' the Westwood. On fire.'
     
The red dress, which pulled and nipped, plumped and tucked in all the right places on Annie's bosomy curves, wasn't new. It was a tried and trusted favourite which she knew wouldn't let her down.
     
As she'd always tell her clients, 'Big, nerve-racking events are not the best time to try out new outfits. You're safer wearing something that you've worn before and can rely on. Why do you think brides are always so anxious?'
     
'God save the Queen!' Annie joked, which was her and Paula's code for Westwood. ('God save the Queens' meant Dolce and Gabbana.)
     
'Long live the Queen,' Paula added.
     
'I'm really, really going to miss my staff discount,' Annie admitted with a sigh.
     
'Annie Valentine, I bet you are,' Nadine, one of the shop assistants, who was just entering the suite, had to agree.
     
She was leading in a posse of about ten