Beware the corporate deal, my son

A long established Sydney schmutta identity, whom I shall call B for the sake of my survival, went mahulla recently - and not for the first time, I should add.

I have a morbid interest in such events, intending that I would avoid the same trap and pass on to others any wisdom arising.

In this case, the trap was set when B bought a company that apparently had an established trade in supplying corporate outfits. B agreed to buy the stock - not a risk because it was all safe and continually being delivered. Did I say safe? Not.
The nature of the corporate apparel business is that the supplier usually has to hold stock and deliver it at call. Part of the deal is that it must have a full size and colour range available at all times. When B took over the business he found that there was no stock of mediums in a certain shirt. There were some other stock gaps too. A further examination revealed that because these gaps existed, they voided the contract with the biggest customer - who had quickly found another supplier.

Now this is a far more serious matter than just losing a customer. B had a mountain of stock in the other sizes, all emblazoned and embroidered with the customer's logo and other needful information. He offered it to the customer for half price but was greeted with the news that the logo had been updated and so had some of the styles. Consequently, the stock was worth less than nothing because it could not even be given away to St Vinnies.

B did extract a little vengeance because it turned out that he'd only paid a deposit on the company's purchase price, meaning that when it went mahulla B was not as badly wounded as the person who sold it to him.

The lesson of the tale is that, if you take the corporate apparel bait, make sure there is a clause in the contract which compels the corporation to purchase the stock in the event of a cessation of trade. And not just purchase it, another corporate supplier warns, but within a suitable time frame. This other supplier was stuck with a whole lot of shirts that he's had now for three years because the agreement to purchase didn't specify a delivery time limit.

Dressing in, fressing out
Michelle Kirk was quite a famous Sydney fashion agent in the '80s and '90s when agents were accorded more honour, glory and commission than they are today. For various reasons Michelle moved on from her 18 label powerhouse in Ultimo and opened 'Inspiration', a classy unisex shop in Bowral where she clothed upmarket Sydney escapees in classics with a twist.

In recent years she has been consulting to wholesalers and retailers - and feeling a little dismayed that they seemed to finish up with most of the money. She then hatched a plan to make her own triumphal return to retail. Where else but Sydney's Double Bay?

Those who know busy New South Head Road would also know that the Georges Restaurant site had been vacant for two years. Position: awesome. Rent: scary. Michelle and the landlord did a chequebook arm wrestle and both went away satisfied.

Now we have Georges of Double Bay, not for fressing but for dressing. Michelle had missed the indent season for opening summer but that didn't seem to matter as she picked up the likes of Andiamo and Philosophy stock which bounced off the shelves into the grateful arms of Eastern Suburbians who like stylish, exclusive looking clobber that is not woundingly priced.

Michelle doesn't want scoffing teenagers, but their mothers or grand mothers. Popular sizes are towards 16. She doesn't like separates but instead buys fully coordinated outfits. Michelle is a happy woman. If Georges of Double Bay continues its contribution to her wellbeing there may be Georges of Other Places. It is a fine name.

I am old enough to remember how Georges of Melbourne sat like a temple of good taste on the Collins Street Hill and how, under new owners, it opened a store in Double Bay. I don't suggest that Michelle should resurrect Georges of Melbourne if she really gets the Georges bug. It was virtually a department store of rare and awesome merchandise.

Since I've slipped into reminiscence, I once wrote a piece about Georges for Overland, a now defunct magazine, in which I recalled how Georges sold ladies bicycles early last century and taught the new owners to ride. The top floor was cleared and huge cushions were tied around the building's supporting metal columns as colliding ladies came to terms with not riding sidesaddle.

By Fraser McEwing