In My Shoes: A Memoir by Tamara Mellon & William Patrick

Author:Tamara Mellon & William Patrick [Mellon, Tamara & Patrick, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Business, Rich & Famous, Business & Economics, Corporate & Business History
ISBN: 9781591846161
Google: 7EY-mwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1591846161
Publisher: Portfolio
Published: 2013-10-01T17:29:06.752343+00:00

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The signing of the Lion deal was scheduled for November 18, 2004, and we had a conference call line open twenty-four hours a day to iron out last-minute complexities. Among these pesky details was the requirement that the agreement be approved and signed before magistrates on the island of Jersey, where the family trusts had been set up. Our operations centers were in the UK and the United States, but Jimmy Choo Jersey Limited, in Jersey, actually owned the brand and licensed it to Jimmy Choo Limited. JCL ran operations, and JCJ received royalties. There were no taxes on the income received by JCJ in Jersey so long as it was not repatriated to the UK.

Jersey, officially known as the Bailiwick of Jersey, is a strange little place that might have been dreamed up for a Monty Python routine, somewhere between Spamalot and the “Ministry of Silly Walks.” Lying only twelve miles off the coast of France, it is a British Crown dependency. In Viking times it had been kicked back and forth between the dukes of Normandy and the dukes of Brittany, but it’s been more or less English since William and all that in 1066. It’s famous for its cows, but its real economy is devoted to financial services, making it rather like the Caymans, only with foul weather.

To accommodate the signing requirements, David Burns and Robert booked seats on the forty-five-minute flight to Saint Helier, Jersey’s capital, and they were on their way to Gatwick when Akeel called to discuss how Lyndon was going to be financing the acquisition—which was by taking on massive debt.

Robert was livid that, by being acquired, we were putting the company £50 million in the hole. (I, on the other hand, wasn’t even informed of this development.)

To calm the waters, Lyndon called Robert and asked him to come to their offices on Grosvenor Place, just opposite Buckingham Palace, where he explained how the debt was being structured in a way that would allow Robert to leverage his own equity stake. Our CEO was reassured, but by now they’d missed the last flight to Jersey.

Lyndon graciously offered his own NetJet, and when they landed, they went straight to the lawyer’s office in Saint Helier, and the signing dragged on and on. At quarter past eight the pilot called to remind them that Jersey’s airport closed at nine, but there was still plenty of fine print to read, and it wasn’t until ten that the deal was done.

I’d spent the evening waiting by the phone at my lawyer’s office, and after the call came through I took a deep breath and went over to my mother’s house to “share the good news.” I found her sitting by herself in her living room, her knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth. I knelt down and said, “Mom, they’ve signed it. Everything’s done. You’re going to have plenty of money. You’re going to be okay.”

I think this

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