Cucci

Now my last two posts have been rather serious, but I now have something considerably more exciting to share with you all which I have not hitherto mentioned;  I have brilliant business ideas.  I know, I just don’t seem the sort, but I really have some great ideas and now is the time to share them with you.

My first brilliant business idea was borne out of a discussion about a local club.  I say “club”.  An establishment where women are paid to take their clothes off.  Putting my views on the excessive sexualisation of women aside for one moment,  I know that it is as old as time.  I am sure that all of these ladies have lovely bodies and there are many people, men and women, who are only too happy to see them in not very much.  My fantastic idea as a middle-aged mother of three, was to turn this idea completely on its head.  I have had three babies. No one wants to watch me take my clothes off.  But, but….. I think that there are probably quite a few people who would pay good money to get me to put clothes on.  In fact I envisaged this idea to be so popular, that in literally minutes there would be a situation where people would be in such a frantic hurry that it would be rather like that episode of ‘Friends’ where Joey puts on every item of clothing in Chandler’s wardrobe.  

Rather than clothes from my own wardrobe, which my children tell me contains far too many grey cardigans, I could have a rack of clothes that the donor gets to choose from.  Not only do the donors save the rest of the world from a terrifying sight, I also get new clothes which may or may not be more grey cardigans.  

If visitors think for one minute that they are going to be able to cover their eyes in horror, make a blood-curdling scream and run for the exit, that will be their second nasty shock in as many minutes.  Rather than paying to come in, you have to pay to get out.  I’m sitting, quite literally, on a goldmine.

Number Two.  I wanted to spruce up the downstairs loo by painting it a more interesting colour.  I made my way to my local DIY store.  Endless colour swatches made their way into the house, and then onto the wall so I could muse on which colour would be best.  A lot of the swatches describe the colour in French, which of course makes them and me much more sophisticated.  

I decided that the world needs a budget range of paints, with colour names to match.  Not in French.  These are not sophisticated.  There would be no room for interpretation because the description would be of a colour that everyone knows.  When I am showing friends my newly painted downstairs loo, rather than say “oh it’s Peony Pink, inspired by the Chelsea Flower Show” I would say “oh, yes, it’s Tart’s Handbag Pink, inspired by my mother’s perfume” and everyone who knew my mother would know precisely what I meant, and also everyone who didn’t know my mother would also know precisely what I meant.  Other ideas were “Don’t Eat the Snow Yellow” inspired by suspicious yellow snow with which we are all familiar, “Seventies Brown” which was the height of fashion when I was small – shoes venturing from black or navy and into what was then the racy and outlandish colour of brown.  “Puce Pink” inspired by the complexion of someone we all know and are picturing right now.  The ideas also took a darker turn “Cadaver Blue” became “Cadaver Green”.  Coming soon to a DIY store near you!

My third idea was, I have to say, very modestly, my best yet.  And as you now know from my other two fantastic ideas, the competition is pretty stiff.  

I was very fortunate to visit Rome this year.  I loved it.  Art, ice cream, red wine – what’s not to like?  Stuffed full of designer shops.  You can look in every single window and know that as nothing has a price on it, you definitely can’t afford it and therefore have absolutely no need to go in.  One of the shops was Gucci, who I am pretty sure will have zero interest in supporting my first idea.  Their loss.  Along the same street was a shop called Pucci.  I did a double-take.  Surely there cannot be a shop called Pucci around the corner from a shop called Gucci.  Apparently there can be.  Naive as I am, I thought that this would be designer clothing and accessories for our canine friends.  I peered in the window expecting to see a diamond-studded dog collar and a bag that you carry your bitey Chihuahua in.  Nope.  Clothes for humans.  I mused on the intellectual property discussions between ‘Pucci’ and ‘Gucci’ and then went back to my hotel for a sit down and a cup of tea.

I should mention that I was in Rome with two teenagers.  This is relevant, stick with me. If you are around teenagers you too will spend quite a lot of time asking them to explain the words that they use.  This will be greeted with the standard eye-roll, scoffing and derisory remarks because we don’t know what they mean – we are not young enough to know everything.  One of the words that they use is “cooch” which according to google is vulgar slang for female genitals.  Rather than it being vulgar, we treat it as a word to describe one’s lady area. 

So there I was at the hotel, enjoying a cup of tea and still wondering if Gucci litigated against Pucci.  After the cup of tea, I popped to the loo.  As you know, there are bidets on the Continent.  I looked at it and noted that not only had the hotel left two bottles of “intimate wash”, there was also a towel rail above the bidet with two towels, which I assumed only had one purpose.  And that was the moment; the idea of Cucci was born. 

I announced my latest brilliant business idea at dinner.  It was well-received, even by the teenagers who had quite enjoyed coming up with ideas for my paint range. Before we had ordered our next tiramisu, we had the entire range planned out; towels, washes, sprays, waxes – an entire underwear range.  Seasonal underwear, so some draughty, and some not so draughty.  Even cupcakes shaped like bum cheeks for the opening evening.  Man of the House’s sole contribution was to suggest a range of vajazzles.  Philosophical discussions have ensued.  A friend’s daughter asked if vajazzles were still fashionable. I hadn’t realised that they were a fashion item. I pointed out that as a woman much younger than me and newly married, I rather thought that she might have her finger on the pulse of that, so to speak.  Another friend told me that one can purchase a razor specifically designed for one’s cooch. That had passed me by as well.  It really has been a bonding experience between women.  Men within earshot have found renewed interest in their shoes. 

So in short, I am off to Rome to open a pant shop.  Which may or may not be next door to a paint shop.  And an establishment where I have clothes thrown at me.  Do come and visit.  You will be able to find it easily by watching and listening for the Italian men running screaming.  Not only will these brilliant ideas allow me to soak myself in red wine and art, this time next year, we’ll be millionaires.