:44 PM

Lets go up to the terrace and have a coffee, says Ewa. But the show starts in only an hour from now, and you know what the traffics like. Theres still time for a cup of coffee. They go up the stairs, turn right, and walk to the end of the cor-

ridor. The security guard there knows them already and barely ac- knowledges them. They walk past glass cases full of jewelry studded with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, and emerge into the sunlight on the first-floor terrace. The same very famous jewelry firm hires the area every year to receive friends, celebrities, and journalists. Its furnished in the very best of taste, and theres always a table groaning with a con- stantly replenished supply of delicacies. They sit down at a table shaded by a parasol. A waiter comes over, and they order a sparkling mineral water and an espresso. The waiter asks if they would like something from the buffet, but they decline, saying that theyve already eaten. In less than two minutes, hes back with their order.

Is everything all right? he asks. Yes, thank you, excellent. No, thinks Ewa, things couldnt be worse, although at least the coffees good. Hamid knows that something strange is going on with his wife, but prefers to leave that conversation for another time. He doesnt want to think about it. He doesnt want to risk hearing something along the lines of Im leaving you. He is disciplined enough to control his feel- ings.

At one of the other tables sits one of the most famous designers in the world, with his camera beside him. Hes staring into space, as if hoping to make it clear that he doesnt want to be disturbed. No one approaches him, and whenever some ill-advised person attempts to do so, the hotels PR lady, a pleasant woman in her fifties, asks them po- litely to leave him alone; he needs a respite from the constant barrage of models, journalists, clients, and impresarios.

Hamid remembers their first meeting, so many years ago now that it seems like an eternity. He had been in Paris for eleven months, made a few friends in the fashion world, knocked on various doors and, thanks to contacts furnished by the sheikh (who may have known no one in that particular world, but had influential friends in high places), had landed a job as a designer for one of the most respected names in haute couture. Instead of making sketches based on the materials he was given, he used to stay at the studio until late at night, working with the fabrics he had brought from his own country. During that period, he was twice summoned home. The first occasion was when he learned that his father had died and left him the small family business. Even before hed had time to think about it, he was informed by one of the sheikhs emissaries that someone would be taking over the business and making the necessary investments to ensure that it prospered, but that ownership would remain in his name.

He asked why, since the sheikh had shown no knowledge of or in- terest in the subject.

A French luggage manufacturer is setting up business here. The first thing they did was seek out local fabrics, which theyve promised to use in some of their luxury goods. So not only do we already have one client, we can continue to honor our traditions and keep control of the raw material.

Hamid returned to Paris knowing that his fathers soul was in Para- dise and that his memory would remain in the land he had so loved. He continued working late into the night, making designs with Bedouin themes and experimenting with the fabrics he had brought back with him. If that French companyknown for its innovative designs and good tastewas showing an interest in local products, then news of this would soon reach the capital of fashion and there was sure to be a big demand. It was only a matter of time, but news traveled fast.

One morning, he was called in to see the director. This was the first time he had entered that inner sanctum, the great couturiers office, and he was astonished to see how untidy it was. There were newspa- pers everywhere, papers piled high on the couturiers antique desk, a vast quantity of photos taken of him with various celebrities, framed magazine covers, fabric samples, and a vase full of white feathers of all sizes.

Youre very good at what you do. I had a look at the sketches you leave around for all to see. Id be careful about doing that if I were you. You never know when someone might change jobs and steal any good ideas they picked up here.

Hamid didnt like to think he was being spied on, but he said noth- ing, and the great couturier went on:

Why do I think youre good? Because you come from a country where people dress very differently, and youre beginning to under- stand how to adapt those fashions to the West. Theres just one prob- lem: we cant buy those fabrics here; also your designs have religious connotations, and fashion is, above all, about clothing the body, al- though it does inevitably reflect a great deal of whats going in the soul as well.

He went over to one of the piles of magazines, and as if he knew exactly what was there, he picked up a particular copy, possibly bought from the bouquinistesthe booksellers who have been selling their wares on the banks of the Seine since the days of Napoleon. It was an old Paris Match with a picture of Christian Dior on the cover.

What makes this man a legend? Ill tell you: his ability to under- stand human beings. Of all the many fashion revolutions, one merits special mention. Immediately after the Second World War, when cloth was in such short supply in Europe that there was barely enough to make clothes at all, he started designing dresses that required an enor- mous amount of fabric. By doing so, he was not only showing off a beautiful woman beautifully dressed, he was selling the dream that we would once again return to a time of elegance, abundance, and plenty. He was attacked and insulted for doing this, but he knew he was going in the right direction, which is always the opposite direction to every- one else.

He put the magazine back exactly where he had taken it from and returned, holding another one.

And here is Coco Chanel. She was abandoned by her parents, became a cabaret singer, and was just the kind of woman who could expect only the worst from life. But she seized the one chance she hadin her case, a series of rich loversand transformed herself into the most important female couturier of her day. What did she do? She liberated women from the slavery of corsets, those instruments of tor- ture that imprisoned the torso and prevented all natural movement. She made only one mistake: she concealed her past, when that would, in fact, have helped her become an even greater legendthe woman who had survived despite all.

He put that magazine back in its place too. Then he went on:

You might ask: why didnt they do that before? Well never know. People must have triedcouturiers who have been completely for- gotten by history because they failed to reflect in their collections the spirit of the times they were living in. Chanel needed more than cre- ative talent and rich lovers to have the impact she had. Society had to be ready for the great feminist revolution that took place at the same time.

The couturier paused.

Now its the turn of the Middle East, precisely because all the ten- sion and the fear that keep the world in limbo are coming from your country. I know this because Im the director of this company. After all, everything starts with a meeting of the main suppliers of dyes.

Hamid glances again at the designer sitting alone on the terrace, his camera resting on the armchair beside him. Perhaps he had noticed Hamid arrive and is now wondering just where Hamid got the money that had enabled him to become his biggest competitor.

The man now staring into space and feigning indifference had done everything possible to prevent Hamid from being admitted into the FŽdŽration. He believed Hamid was being financed by oil money and felt that this constituted unfair competition. He didnt know that the di- rector of the label Hamid was working for at the time had offered him a better job (not that better meant his name would appear anywhere; the company had contracted another designer to shine in the spotlight and on the catwalk), nor did he know that two months after this and eight months after the death of his father, Hamid had been summoned to a face-to-face meeting with the sheikh.

When Hamid arrived home, he found it hard to recognize the city that had once been his. The skeletons of skyscrapers lined the citys one avenue; the traffic was unbearable; the old airport was in near chaos; but the sheikhs idea was beginning to take shape. The city would be a place of peace in the midst of war, an investment paradise in the midst of turbulent financial markets, the visible face of a nation that so many people took pleasure in criticizing, humiliating, and stereo- typing. Other countries in the region had also now begun to believe in that city being built in the middle of the desert, and money was starting to flow in, first in a trickle and then like a rushing river.

The palace, however, was the same, although another much larger one was being built not far from there. Hamid arrived at the meet- ing in an excellent mood, saying that he had just received an excellent job offer and no longer needed the sheikhs financial help; indeed, he would pay back every penny invested in him.

Hand in your resignation, said the sheikh.

Hamid didnt understand. He knew that the business his father had left him was doing well, but he had other dreams for his future. How- ever, he couldnt defy this man who had done so much to help him not a second time.

At our first meeting, I was able to say no to Your Highness be- cause I was defending my fathers rights, which were always para- mount. Now, though, I must bow to your will. If you think you have lost money by investing in my work, I will do whatever you ask. I will come home and look after my inheritance. If I have to give up my dream in order to honor the code of my tribe, I will do so.

He spoke these words without a tremor. He dared not show any weakness before a man who so respected other mens strength.

Im not asking you to come home. The fact that you were pro- moted is a sign that youre ready to set up your own company. That is what I want you to do.

To set up my own company? thought Hamid. Did I hear him right?

More and more of the big fashion companies are setting up busi- ness here, the sheikh went on. And theyre no fools. Our women are beginning to change the way they think and dress. Fashion has had an even bigger impact on our region than foreign investment. Ive spoken to men and women who know about these things. Im just an old Bed- ouin who, when he saw his first car, thought it would have to be fed like a camel.

Id like foreigners to read our poets, listen to our music, to sing and dance to the songs that were passed down from generation to genera- tion by our ancestors, but no one, it seems, is interested in that. There is only one way in which they can learn to respect our tradition, and that is via the world in which you work. If they can understand who we are by the way we dress, they will eventually understand everything else.

The following day, Hamid met a group of investors from various other countries. They placed at his disposal an enormous sum of money and gave him a deadline by which it had to be repaid. They asked him if he was ready and prepared to accept the challenge.

Hamid asked for time to think. He went to his fathers grave and prayed all afternoon and evening. That night, he walked in the desert, felt the wind freezing his bones, then returned to the hotel where the foreign investors were staying. Blessed be that which gives your chil- dren wings and roots, says an Arabic proverb.

He needed his roots. There is a place in the world where we are born, where we learn our mother tongue and discover how our ances- tors overcame the problems they had to face. There always comes a point when we feel responsible for that place.

He needed wings too. They reveal to us the endless horizons of the imagination, they carry us to our dreams and to distant places. It is our wings that allow us to know the roots of our fellow men and to learn from them.

He asked for inspiration from God and began to pray. Two hours later, he remembered a conversation he had overheard between his father and a friend in his fathers shop:

This morning, my son asked me for money to buy a sheep. Should I help him, do you think?

Since it clearly isnt a matter of urgency, wait another week before giving him your answer.

But I have the means to help him now. What difference will a week make?

A very great difference indeed. Experience has taught me that people only give value to a thing if they have, at some point, been un- certain as to whether or not theyll get it.

Hamid made the investors wait a week and then accepted the chal- lenge. He needed people who would take care of the money and invest it as he wanted. He needed staff, preferably people who came from his own village. He needed another year in the job he was doing, so that he could learn what he still needed to know. That was all.

Everything starts with a meeting of the main suppliers of dyes.

Well, that isnt exactly true: everything begins when the compa- nies involved in studying market trends (cabinets de tendence in French, trend adapters in English) take note of the different thingsamong them fashionin which each layer of society is currently interested. This research is based on interviews with consumers, the close moni- toring of samples, but, above all, on careful observation of a particular cohort of peopleusually aged between twenty and thirtywho go to nightclubs, hang out on the streets, and read the blogs on the Internet. They never look at whats in the shop windows, even at name brands, because everything there has already reached the general public and is therefore condemned to die.

The trend adapters want to know what will be the next thing to capture the consumers imagination? Young people dont have enough money to buy luxury goods and so have to invent new ways of dress- ing. Since they live glued to their computer screens, they share their interests with like-minded others, and these interests can often become a kind of virus that infects the whole community. Young people influ- ence their parents views of politics, literature, and music, and not, as ingenuous adults believe, the other way round. However, parents influ- ence young peoples system of values. Adolescents may be rebellious by nature, but they always believe the family is right; they may dress strangely and enjoy listening to singers who howl and break guitars, but thats as far as it goes. They dont have the courage to go any fur- ther and provoke a real revolution in behavior.

They did that in the past, but, fortunately, that particular wave has passed and returned to the sea.

All these studies of market trends show that society is now heading toward a more conservative style, far from the dangers posed by suf- fragettes (the women at the beginning of the twentieth century who fought for and achieved the right to vote) or by hairy, unhygienic hip- pies (a group of crazies who believed that peace and free love were real possibilities).

In 1960, for example, the worldwascaughtupinthebloody wars of the post-colonial era, terrified by the threat of nuclear war, and although we were also living through a period of economic pros- perity, we were all desperately in need of a little joy. Just as Christian Dior had understood that the hope of future abundance could be ex- pressed through clothes using yards of material, the designers of the sixties went in search of a combination of colors that would lift peoples morale and came to the conclusion that red and violet were simultane- ously calming and stimulating.

Forty years later, the collective view had changed completely: the world was no longer under the threat of war, but of grave environmen- tal problems. Designers were opting for colors drawn from the natural world: the sands of the desert, the jungles, the sea. Between these two periods, various other trendspsychedelic, futuristic, aristocratic, nostalgicarose and vanished.

Before the great designer collections are fully defined, these studies of market trends are used to give a snapshot of the worlds current state of mind. It seems now thatdespite wars, famine in Africa, terror- ism, the violation of human rights, and the arrogant attitude of certain developed countriesour main preoccupation is saving poor planet Earth from the many threats created by human society.

Ecology. Save the planet. How ridiculous.

Hamid knows, however, that theres no point in fighting the collec- tive unconscious. The colors, the accessories, the fabrics, the so-called charity events attended by the Superclass, the books being published, the music being played on the radio, the documentaries made by ex- politicians, the new films, the material used to make shoes, the new bio-fuels, the petitions handed in to members of parliament and con- gressmen, the bonds being sold by the largest of the world banks, ev- erything appears to focus on one thing: saving the planet. Fortunes are made overnight; large multinationals are given space in the press because of some completely irrelevant action they are taking; unscru- pulous NGOs place advertisements on the major TV channels and re- ceive hundreds of millions of dollars in donations because everyone seems obsessed with the fate of the Earth.

Whenever he reads articles in newspapers or magazines written by politicians using global warming or the destruction of the environment as a platform for their electoral campaigns, he thinks:

How can we be so arrogant? The planet is, was, and always will be stronger than us. We cant destroy it; if we overstep the mark, the planet will simply erase us from its surface and carry on existing. Why dont they start talking about not letting the planet destroy us? Because saving the planet gives a sense of power, action, and no- bility. Whereas not letting the planet destroy us might lead to feelings of despair and impotence, and to a realization of just how very limited our capabilities are.

However, this is what the trends reveal, and fashion must adapt to the desires of the consumers. The dye works were already busy pro- ducing what were deemed to be the best colors for the next collection. The cloth manufacturers were on the hunt for natural fibers; the cre- ators of accessories such as belts, bags, glasses, and wristwatches were doing their best to adapt, or at least pretend to adapt, by publishing leaflets printed on recycled paper explaining the lengths they had gone to in order to preserve the environment. All of this would be shown to the major designers at the largest of the fabric showsclosed to the publicand bearing the evocative name of Premiere Vision.

After that, each designer would apply his or her creativity to the new collection and feel that haute couture was something inventive, original, and different. Not true. They were all merely slavishly fol- lowing what the market trends dictated. The more important the brand, the less willing they were to take any risks, given that the jobs of hundreds of people around the world depended on the decisions of a small group of people, the Superclass of the haute-couture world, which was already weary of pretending that it had something different to sell every six months.

The first designs were made by misunderstood geniuses who dreamed of one day having their own label. They worked for ap- proximately six to eight months, at first with pencil and paper, then with prototypes made out of cheap fabric, which could be photographed on models and analyzed by the directors. Out of every one hundred pro- totypes, about twenty would be chosen for the next show. Adjustments were madenew buttons, a different cut of sleeve, or some unusual stitching.

Then more photos would be taken, this time with the models sit-

ting, lying down, or walking, and still further adjustments, because remarks such as only suitable for the catwalk could ruin a whole collection and place a particular labels reputation at risk. During this process, some of the misunderstood geniuses were summarily dis- missed, with no right to compensation because they were only there as trainees. The more talented of those who remained would have to rethink their creations several times, aware that, however successful the design, only the name of the label would be mentioned.

They all vowed revenge one day. They told themselves that even- tually they would open their own shop and get the recognition they deserved. Meanwhile, they smiled and continued working as if they were thrilled to have been chosen. As the final models were being se- lected, more people were dismissed and more people taken on (for the next collection), and finally, the genuine fabrics were used to make the clothes that would appear on the catwalk, as if this were the first time they were being shown to the public. This, of course, was part of the legend because, by then, retailers worldwide already had in their hands photos of the various designs taken from every conceivable angle, as well as details of the accessories, the texture of the fabric, the recom- mended retail price, and the addresses of suppliers. Depending on the brands size and importance, the new collection was already being produced on a large scale in various countries around the world.

Then, finally, the big day arrived, or, rather, the three weeks that marked the beginning of a new era (which, as they all knew, would last only six months). It began in London, then went on to Milan, and ended in Paris. Journalists were invited from all over the world, photogra- phers jockeyed for the best places, and everything was treated with the greatest secrecy; newspapers and magazines devoted pages and pages to the latest designs; women were dazzled, and men regarded with a certain scorn what they thought of as a mere fashion item and thought sourly about how they would have to spend a few thou- sand dollars on something of not the slightest importance to them, but which their wives considered to be an emblem of the Superclass.

A week later, something that had been described as exclusive was already available in shops around the world. No one asked how it had managed to travel so fast and be produced in such a short space of time. The legend, however, is more important than the reality.

The consumers didnt realize these new fashions were created by those who were merely following the existing fashions, that exclusivity was just a lie they chose to believe, that many of the collections praised by the specialist press belonged to the large manufacturers of luxury goods, who supported those same magazines and journals by placing full-page advertisements. There were, of course, exceptions, and, after a few years of struggle, Hamid Hussein was one of them, and therein lay his power.

He notices that Ewa is again checking her mobile phone, which she doesnt normally do. The fact is that she hates the thing, perhaps because it reminds her of a past relationship, a period of her life about which he still knows little or nothing because neither of them ever refers to it. He glances at his watch. They still have time to finish their coffee without rushing. He looks again at the other designer. If only it did all begin with a meeting of dye manufacturers and end on the catwalk, but that wasnt the case.

He and the man now sitting alone and staring out at the ho- rizon first met at Premiere Vision. Hamid was still working for the major fashion house that had taken him on as a designer, although the sheikh had, by then, already started organizing the small army of eleven people who would put into practice the idea of using fashion as a window onto their world, their religion, and their culture.

Most of the time we stand here listening to explanations of how to present simple things in the most complicated way possible, Hamid had said.

They were walking past stands displaying the latest fabrics, the latest revolutionary techniques, the colors that would be used over the next two years, the ever more sophisticated accessoriesplatinum belt buckles, push-button credit card holders, watch straps the size of which could be minutely regulated with the help of a diamond-encrusted dial.

The couturier looked him up and down. The world always was and always will be complicated. I dont think so, and if I ever leave the company Im working for now, it will be to open my own business, which will go against all these beliefs.

The couturier laughed.

You know what the world of fashion is like. Youve heard of the FŽdŽration, havent you, well, it takes foreigners a very, very long time to get accepted.

The FŽdŽration Franeaise de la Couture was one of the worlds most exclusive clubs. It decided who could or couldnt take part in the Fashion Weeks in Paris, as well as setting the parameters to be fol- lowed by participants. First created in 1868, it had enormous power. It trademarked the expression haute couture so that no one outside the FŽdŽration could use it without running the risk of being sued. It pub- lished the ten thousand copies of the Official Catalogue for the two great annual events, decided which journalists would receive the two thousand press passes, selected the major buyers, and selected the venue for each show according to the importance of the designer.

Yes, I know what the world of fashion is like, said Hamid, bring- ing the conversation to a close. He sensed that the man he was talking to would, in the future, be a great designer, but he knew, too, that they would never be friends.

Six months later, everything was ready for his great adventure. He resigned from his job, opened his first shop in St-Germain-des-Pres, and started to fight as best he could. He lost many battles, but real- ized one thing: he could not bow to the tyranny of the companies who dictated the fashion trends. He had to be original, and he succeeded because he brought with him the simplicity of the Bedouin, a knowl- edge of the desert, everything he had learned at the company where he had worked for over a year, as well as the advice of certain financial experts, together with textiles that were completely new and original. Two years later, he had opened five or six large shops throughout France and had been accepted by the FŽdŽration, not just because of his talent, but through the sheikhs contacts, whose emissaries controlled which French companies could open branches in their country.

More water flowed under the bridge, people changed their minds, presidents were elected or stepped down, the new technology grew in popularity, the Internet began to dominate world communications, public opinion became more influential in all spheres of human activ- ity, luxury and glamour regained the position they had lost. His work grew and expanded. He wasnt just involved now in fashion, but in ac- cessories, furniture, beauty products, watches, and exclusive fabrics.

Hamid was now the master of an empire, and all those who had invested in his dream were richly rewarded with the dividends paid to shareholders. He continued to supervise much of what his businesses produced, attended the most important photo shoots, still designed most of the clothes, and visited the desert three times a year to pray at his fathers grave and give an account of his activities to the sheikh. Now he has taken up a new challenge; he is going to produce a film.

He glances at his watch again and tells Ewa its time to go. She asks if it really is so very important.

No, its not, but Id like to be there.

Ewa gets to her feet. Hamid takes one last look at the famous cou- turier, sitting alone and contemplating the Mediterranean, oblivious to everything.