Today her hair was up, pinned into some sort of a twist in the back, and she wore those thick, dark-rimmed glasses. I had the strongest urge to push her up against a stack of books, rip her hair down, and toss her glasses over my shoulder.
Mature, Rothschild. Very mature thoughts.
Not to mention professional, too.
Luckily, at least one person in the room seemed to have their head screwed on straight.
Stella cleared her throat. “I brought a few sample kits, a demo of the website, some details of what I’ve invested so far, and a report of the inventory on hand. It’s probably best if I start with the sample kit.”
I nodded once, but said nothing.
For the next half hour, I listened to her presentation. Surprisingly, for a woman who acted on impulse, her business planning had been well thought out. The website was professional, with good branding and simple navigation. Most of the time when new business owners came in, they’d get the pretty right, but hadn’t given any thought to the importance of remarketing. But not Stella. She talked about metrics and follow-back advertisements, demonstrating that she was thinking long term instead of short. The amount of capital she’d invested was also impressive, though it made me wonder where she’d gotten that kind of cash.
“Does the business owe anyone money or have existing investors?” I asked.
“No. No debt at all. I had one partner who had invested funds, but I bought him out last year.”
“So the two-hundred-and-twenty-five grand you’ve put into it so far… That came from…?”
“My savings.”
I guess the skepticism showed on my face, because she added, “I made a hundred-and-ten thousand as the senior chemist in my last job. It took me six years of saving and turning the small office in my apartment into a bedroom and taking on roommates. But I put away almost half of my net income every year.”
Impressed again, I nodded. Half the people who presented before us had gotten handouts from Mommy and Daddy, or owed a big chunk of money before they even got up and running. I had to give her credit for the perseverance it took to get this far. Though I wouldn’t be giving her that credit aloud.
When Stella got to the demonstration part of her presentation, I could tell my sister was already familiar with everything. She basically acted like her sidekick, helping Stella sell the product. They seemed to jell really well, and one picked up where the other left off. Olivia added anecdotal comments about how much all of her friends loved their creations. At one point, the two of them were laughing, and I found myself watching Stella, focusing on the pulse in her neck. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off the damn thing. Olivia glanced over and gave me a funny look.
“So what do you think?” My sister asked after the presentation was over. “Isn’t it an amazing product?”
A strong murmur went around the room, each of my staff nodding and giving some sort of praise. The marketing manager talked about the profitability of the perfume industry and how much beauty supplies sold in general. For the most part, I remained quiet, until my sister looked at me.
“Hudson? What do you think?”
“The concept is interesting enough. Though I’m not sold on the idea that rating some smelling samples and completing an online survey equates to consistently making a product the consumer will like.”
“Well, I love mine,” Olivia said. “And the seven women in my bridal party all went crazy over theirs.”
Stella turned and looked at me. “Would you like to give it a test run yourself? Perhaps have a woman in your life try it out.”
My sister snorted. “Should he have his cleaning lady or his six-year-old daughter test it out?”
I scowled at Olivia.
“Actually,” Stella said, “he can try it out himself.”
“I’m not really much of a perfume wearer. But thanks.”
“I didn’t mean you had to put it on. You know what smells you like and which ones you don’t, right? If you go to the perfume counter at a store, you smell a bunch of samples until you find the one that appeals to you. Signature Scent just skips the unnecessary steps. If you go through the process, the scent I create for you should be appealing enough that you would’ve bought it in the store for a woman.” She shrugged. “Men like perfume as much as women. They just don’t spray it on themselves.”
As much as I thought her presentation had gone well, and she had a good product and unique marketing, I wasn’t sure she was a person I wanted to partner with. Something didn’t sit right, even without considering the wedding fiasco, or that she seemed to be the star of my pathetically frequent showers lately. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Though my sister would drive me nuts if I didn’t have a legitimate business reason to decline investing, so perhaps this sampling could be my out.