Chapter 11: Juxtaposition

“So are we taking the sports car?” Zann asked after breakfast on Friday morning. I knew she meant my boy’s toy, which is pretty much restored at long last. It’s impractical but beautiful; very noisy, very fast, unreliable, uncomfortable and super stylish, in bright yellow.

The sensible thing would be to take my main car, which wouldn’t go wrong and is still reasonably sporty. The client’s offices are over an hour’s drive away. But Zoe-Ann had had her makeup done by Amanda, her hair done in London, and was looking like several million tanned dollars in her dark-purple medium heels and the suit Amanda had got her, with a crisp white blouse.

The skirt was tight and short, the jacket was long and, as my wife had envisioned, they finished at exactly the same level. They’d had it 2-hour fitted, which might partly have explained the price. The shoulders were a perfect, immaculate fit and so was the cut and the mid-grey-with-a-few-purple-threads cloth. The sheer black tights made her legs more wonderful than ever, and altogether If you were a bloke wanting to finish off your stylish car with a stylish girl, here she was.

“What about your hair?” I asked. The car has a hood but it’s not a car you drive with it up.

“I can wear a scarf,” she grinned, excited, “and we saw these shades...” She lowered them from being in her hair to over her eyes for a second, before reinstating them into the Cannes filmstar position.

“Okay,” I had to grin back. If you have a stylish car you have a to seize an opportunity like this one. Her eyes - grey-green in the tanned face, outlined and green-shadowed - were more incredible than ever, and her purpley-dark-pink lips were more incredible than ever too. She’d borrowed a briefcase from Amanda and the last thing she looked was fourteen. The client was expecting a university design student with a summer work placement, but even so they were in for a surprise.

I was immature enough to show off a bit on the way, and Zann loved it and was immature enough to take off her scarf to get the full effect, so by the time we pulled into the car park her hair was a wild mess. It’s thick and wavy and quite long. It’s hard to say whether the colour is dark blonde or light brown, but you wouldn’t change it, especially now it was a bit sun-bleached. But so, while we were waiting to be collected from reception, she popped into the ladies’ to fix it.

Camille came down to collect us before Zann had reappeared, and I explained.

“Oh that’s okay,” she smiled her immaculate smile, in neat skirt and blouse, “I must thank her for sending the graphics, I know the Director’s going to love them.” She was edgy. I was pretty sure this was her first project, probably after graduating in Marketing, and everything depended on the Director being pleased. In keeping with the usual corporate middle-management thing she’s taller and better-looking than average, smiles a lot and can keep a conversation going indefinitely. “How was your trip down?”

“Oh fine,” I smiled, “the traffic wasn’t too bad.”

“Oh that’s good. The traffic can be such a problem can’t it? You’re never quite sure when you have to travel somewhere, whether you’re going to hit a jam or something ... Oh! Wow!” She looked past me in surprise.

I turned to see the reason. Zann. Shit!! She hadn’t done a thing to her hair, except possibly lean over forwards and toss it back. “Rats nest” would be a huge understatement. And it was huge. Normally it would have been amazingly sexy, but here...

Her eyeshadow was now a vivid purple, along with her lips, and the blouse had been replaced with a short - short - crumpled tee with the Grafxr.us graphic on it. The tee was so thoroughly creased it had to be deliberate, especially as, on closer inspection, the area of the graphic itself was ironed perfectly. Of course it was an iron-on transfer, but she could have done the rest of it ... Below the tee, behind the immaculate open jacket, was some immaculate tanned teen tummy - just one lean inch, but it was devastating.

“I’m Zann,” she came and shook hands with a smile, matching Camille for height and poise. In fact exceeding her for poise, while Camille made the adjustment. Of course I couldn’t say a thing.

“Hello,” Camille rose to the occasion, “wow, I can see you’re a design student!” she laughed engagingly, looking Zann up and down and side to side, then down and up again.

“I thought as I’m doing the presentation I ought to project, you know, our own brand values,” Zann was still smiling, “about juxtaposition in design.”

“Wow, well, you’re certainly projecting something ... I mean ... going to have everyone paying attention I think! Thanks so much for coming, and sending the graphics along on time. Come through.”

I bit my tongue and kept my calm exterior going as well as I could, while I followed them along the corridor, up the wide staircase and along more corridor to the conference room. I couldn’t see a way of getting to do the presenting myself now, without looking a complete idiot! “Juxtaposition in design”! That had to be Erin, surely. Zin, rather, and Phoebz. I hoped it wasn’t just a one-liner Zann had learned.

There were seven men and two women sitting ready for the meeting, and every one of them gawped, and kept gawping, as Zann made her entrance. Quite likely the guys would have had a look at Camille anyway, especially the Brand Director, who has a bit of a reputation, but it was focussed. Not that Zann minded.

“This is Zoe-Ann,” Camille made the introductions to everyone, “you all know Derek of course. Zoe-Ann is a design student,” she tried to explain the exotic appearance, “working with Derek for the summer, and she’s going to go through the four concepts for us.”

There was a general nodding and saying ‘hello’ and ‘morning’ as we took our seats, seven heads swivelling to stay zeroed in on Zann; which she casually ignored while not really ignoring anybody. I plugged in my laptop while Stuart, the Brand Manager, put the agenda up on screen and began talking us through it. Most of it was centred on the graphics, with a discussion after the presentation, then there would be some other items after Zann and I had left.

I loaded the PowerPoint and quietly demonstrated to Zann how to go to and fro with the slides. It was clearly all new to her, which was a worry, but she seemed to get hold of it and how to use the Airmouse and its laser pointer. I’d had to make up the presentation with the versions she’d sent, of course, so at least she knew exactly what was on there.

All too soon Stuart finished and looked at Camille, who smiled at Zann, who stood up and sauntered serenely to the end of the room by the big screen on the wall, on which I’d loaded the cover slide. The skirt was looking very short, and was only saved from looking a bit inappropriate by the jacket, and being part of an obviously expensive suit, but she seemed supremely unaware. Almost any girl in that skirt would have smoothed or tugged it down, but not Zoe-Ann.

“So you’ll notice,” she informed the riveted assembly, after first stunning them with a purple-lipped smile, “that the Grafx R Us logo is on the screen, and also here...” she opened her jacket a bit wider and pointed to her tee. “And you’re looking at one of them and not the other. So what’s the difference?”

Nobody dared to answer, even the Director. She was still wearing her bra, at least.

“Well there are two differences. One is juxtaposition, and one is sex.” She paused for effect and I realised she must have been preparing, researching and rehearsing with Zin and Phoebz and probably the whole girlie gang.

The meeting held its collective breath.

“So using a girl for promotion is obviously as old as promotion itself,” she smiled round, letting them off the hook, “but we don’t have room for a girl on our icon. We have to use association, to trigger the customer’s mind into thinking ‘sex’ when they see your brand.” She looked around the table, gathering apprehensive nods.

“Not the act of course, more like desire, or aspiration.” There was almost a sigh of relief round the table. “And then juxtaposition. The Grafx R Us logo juxtaposes thick with thin, and also grey with colour.” She paused again. “Impact. That’s how it’s done. So the logo on me is ironed, while the rest of the tee isn’t.” She opened her jacket again to flaunt her point, “Then there are formal things I’m wearing and casual things, and the contrast is what grabs the attention.”

Stuart muttered something, that could have been about attention being grabbed by her erotically exposed abdomen, her incredible hair, or possibly her tits, or legs. Zann ignored him.

“So this is our first concept,” she switched to the first slide. “The shape is distinctive, and we have the contrast between white and brown...” She found a few other things to say, describing the shape and disguising her lack of interest by speaking slowly with a lot of emphasis.

She moved on to the one of mine with the sparkly ice cream cone, and talked about it being direct and attractive if you wanted an ice cream. “Of course it’s not a design, really,” she pointed out with careless cruelty, “it’s an image, but we wanted to cover the full range for you.”

She switched to the next slide, which was the tongue licking. “With this one, we evoke the sensation and taste, with the tongue, and also have an overtone of sensuality. It’s more immediate...” she expounded for a minute, before switching to the next slide.

“Now we take the overtones on a step,” she smiled, “with the idea of two people licking the same ice cream, at the same time. This can suggest success in relationships, sharing, fun and so on. Of course this is something that might suit your brand, or not...”

“I could see it as a branch of the main brand, possibly,” said Margaret, an older, plump woman who is therefore extremely able. A conversation grew round the table, then faded when Philip the director indicated he was ready for Zann to move on.

“Our fourth concept,” she loaded the next slide, “is a bit more complex. There are juxtapositions with the tongue and teeth, the wolf and the little girl, and they match the juxtaposition that you’ve put into your ice cream too, with the biscuit.

“There’s the fairy tale, which let’s face it has some overtones with the wolf and the little girl; there’s the tongue and taste again, and you might think the tongue is more risqué now I don’t know; and the teeth biting into the biscuit which is part of your unique selling point. Visually it has more red in it, which is more powerful, and also there are some associations with powerful from the fact it’s a wolf that likes your ice cream.”

“It would be quite a departure...” started Malcolm, whose job title I can never remember.

“The general direction seems, rather ... risqué?” ventured Leah with a smile, a woman a year or two older than Camille and of similar ilk.

“Shall we have coffee now?” commanded Philip, “and get into the discussion afterwards? Thank you Zoe-Ann for your very, um, appealing presentation.” He led the charge over to the refreshments table, and I followed with Zann.

Zann was the centre of attention of course, with Philip in close attendance and most of the others hovering as near as they dared. Zann seemed relaxed so I left the wilful child to it. If Philip tried to bully her she’d cause a scene, I was pretty sure, or more likely he’d be picking up that she would. Camille came over to me. I’d met her a couple of times before and found her likeable.