The Middle-Aged Virgin by Olivia Spring

Author:Olivia Spring
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Hartley Publishing
Published: 2018-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I was on cloud nine right now. Even after being in PR for seventeen years, I still got a huge buzz from organising a successful launch.

Last night was the long-awaited MIKA Cosmetics Influencer Lipstick launch at Harvey Nichols, and it had gone even better than we could have anticipated. Not only did the store sell out of their stock in record time (despite ordering extra), but we had over a hundred women that hadn’t managed to book tickets to the customer event in the evening, queuing outside the door, eager to meet and greet Amelia and Céline in person. The store had even had to draft in extra security.

The lipsticks had launched online this morning and sold out in seventeen minutes. Social media had also gone crazy. #MIKAbyAmelia and #MIKAbyCéline were still trending, and there were thousands of posts on Instagram. The boomerang post Amelia put online last night of her jumping for joy next to the giant illuminated poster of herself in the window of the store had currently been viewed 30,709 times—a figure that was increasing by the second.

As well as the sales and social media success, the floods of editorial were also coming through thick and fast, with articles already live on Vogueuk.com, Graziadaily.co.uk and the Daily Mail website. Sunday Times Style were running a big profile piece in this weekend’s issue.

It was a huge relief. That campaign was one of the biggest and ambitious we’d run to date. Even though we’d planned every last detail, I still always worry about something going wrong. Until the event is over and you get the seal of approval from the client, nothing is certain.

As well as being major for the company, it was also significant in terms of my own personal progress on the control-freak front. Whilst I had been involved at every stage and had overseen everything carefully, Robyn had led this campaign from the get-go. She’d continued to impress me and was definitely due a promotion. Perhaps to associate director, or maybe even deputy managing director? I’d need to give it more thought.

Her incredible competency meant that I no longer needed to work late every night or at weekends. With this in mind, even though there would be post-event activity to take care of, my involvement would be minimal. Which meant, despite being a little tired from last night, I was able to be bold and keep this evening free to experience the seventh stage of Tinder: the actual dates.

As we’ve established, when it came to my career, I was fine. But this dating stuff somehow caused my confidence to turn to jelly. So the only coping mechanism that seemed to be producing any modicum of success was relating everything to a work scenario. In this way, dating was just a meeting and going for drinks was like attending an evening networking event. So on that basis, I’d arranged three dates back to back across one evening:

6.30 p.m.: Riccardo—a thirty-three-year-old lawyer

7.30 p.m.: Diego—a thirty-one-year-old accountant

8.30 p.m.:

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