NOT many males can claim to have been in Jacqueline Gold’s Knickerbox. I can say, red-faced, I’ve been there. Or, rather, close to it.
She’s the woman who largely created Ann Summers. It was her billionaire businessman dad, David Gold, and her who built the chain and she built on it all from there with her novel ideas. One of the chain’s most successful outlets is on Princes Street. Don’t tell me you haven’t lingered over its saucy lingerie.
If you see me, don’t let on. You’ll recognise the long raincoat. Jacqueline and her father bought the Summers name and just the two shops for ten grand. That wasn’t yesterday.
She’s chief executive of that and the companion Knickerbox company.
When we met for the first time in Edinburgh she was 35, divorced, and has since remarried to a City trader with a three-year-old daughter.
“You expected Bet Gilroy in fishnets, didn’t you?” she said, charming with it. “You’re going to be disappointed. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a businesswoman. When men discover I’m not tarty, they’re disappointed.”
Like I told her, the thought never crossed my mind.
Afterwords . .
. . . Rory Bremner ranting: “We’ve been encouraged to be more solipsistic for all sorts of reasons – political, social, technological. We are more inclined to be obsessed with our own hermetic world and we think less in terms of community.’’ Student language honed at King’s College, London, don’t forget Solipwhat? Never in our vocabulary at Leith Academy, as I remember.