I don’t get to see the shop, but go straight up to the open-plan space where the designers hang out. I’m early, but it doesn’t seem to matter and I’m glad to get a sneaky peek into what Marnie actually does. I meet Kay and Brendan, two of her designers, who seem entirely unfazed by my presence. I watch them as they work on large desks, discussing fabric samples and a photoshoot that is coming up. There are mannequins everywhere in various lingerie outfits. Some have normal underwear, others Marnie’s burlesque-style collection. To me, they look wonderful. If I could afford it, I’d have every single piece on display. Not that I’d ever have cause or occasion to wear them, I remind myself. But how amazing would it be, to be that rich and have the kind of lifestyle that you could treat yourself to lingerie like this? I try and fast-forward into my fantasy future and visualize myself in a swanky penthouse somewhere, but just as soon as the image forms, it pops with my thorny self-doubt.
