Chapter Twenty A FEW DAYS after the infamous PR dinner, and I’m in a taxi on my way to the Best agency to sit in on a casting session with Amanda. Not that there’s a huge amount of actual casting involved. As with all commercials, we’ve gone through an agency that screens the models, whittles the list from dozens down to maybe fifteen or twenty, and puts them all on tape for us. So, technically, all we have to do is sit in Best’s editing suite (no, really, they even have an editing suite), narrow the field down still further, make our own notes and comments on what we’ve seen, then wait for Sophie’s ultimate seal of approval when she joins us for an afternoon meeting. It may sound doddley enough on paper, but believe me, if we get the mix wrong and somehow match the wrong model to the product, we’re done for. And all of this, presumably, has to be approved by Daniel, too. Now that he’s back in town, so to speak. Anyhoo, over that snatched brunch the day after the PR do, I did, however, finally get to dissect the whole night over with Barbara.
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