42Cecil nervously walked toward the cable-knit sweaters. He pretended to feel up the navy blue cashmere while he scanned the Tom Gray store.
It was elegant but minimalist. Bloodred curtains lined the walls, draping over a frigid black marble floor. The clothing was hung in black onyx closets instead of clothing racks. In the middle of the store was a swirling white grand staircase. It felt cold, like a modern Dracula lair.
The Tom Gray store was meant to be a castle. And you could live in it…if only you owned a $4,000 pair of leather loafers.
It seemed like a typical shopping day. Women in pearls and diamonds, men with Crevier cuff links and Bottega Veneta briefcases. The buyers scoured shelves of handcrafted handbags. Or they sat on fluffy white ottomans, drinking champagne and licking
