a tasteful group of three on the table and two on top of the bookshelf where I’d also put the kettle, a coffee pot, tea pot and milk and sugar etc. Apparently, it’s a Danish thing. Making a thing of making the tea and the coffee.
I fiddled with the birch twigs which I’d arranged in a cheerful sunshine yellow pot until the call came from reception that he’d arrived. They didn’t look the least bit homey, no matter what I did they looked like some twigs with a ribbon tied round them shoved in a pot.
Blonde, of course, and charming, Lars Wilder, CEO of Danish department store Hjem, was tall and exuded that outdoor healthy look that you associate with northern Europeans. Or at least I did after all the reading and researching I’d done yesterday. At over six foot, he had a definite Viking look about him.
‘Good morning, I’m Kate Sinclair.’ I held out my hand, reading his body language which oozed relaxed and at ease, unlike me who had a box of frogs leaping about in my stomach.
‘Good morning, Kate. I’m Lars. Thank you so much for agreeing to see me this morning.’ I examined his face for any irony. Clients who paid our kind of fees usually expected you to jump through hoops for them.
The subtle lighting contrasted with the bright lights of the corridors outside and I noticed Lars shoot an approving glance around the room.
‘Please take a seat.’ I ushered him towards a cracked leather tub chair, with a throw tucked over one arm, opposite a trendy 80s leather slung on metal contraption which was far more comfortable than it looked.
I busied myself making tea. Strangely the task of making the tea made the small talk somewhat easier as I asked him how he’d found the journey.
Eventually we sat down, although it felt as if I’d wasted a good ten minutes of the meeting waiting for the kettle to boil.
‘Great biscuits,’ said Lars reaching for a second one from the plate, his head still nodding approval.
‘Thank you.’
‘You made them?’
I lifted my hands palm upwards as if to say it was no big deal, while thinking of the state of the kitchen this morning and the plastic Tupperware of reject cookies stacked up on the side. Connie and I would be eating them for weeks.
He took a bite. ‘Very good.’
‘Family recipe,’ I lied. My mother made a mean Victoria Sponge but she’d never made an oat cookie in her life.
‘Ah, family,’ he gave me a broad smile, stretching his hands expansively out to the side to emphasize his words. ‘It is so important … and family recipes. My mother is famous for her kanelsnegle.’
I tilted my head and smiled back as if I had the first clue what a kanelsnegle was when it was at home.
‘She thinks every problem can be solved with a pastry.’
She sounded a bit odd to me but I held his gaze as if it were quite normal, he was clearly very fond of her. ‘She runs a café, Varme, it means warmth in Danish. It’s a very special place. My mother loves to look after people.’
I almost sighed out loud. But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to look after you? For the last few years I felt like I’d been completely on my own, swimming hard against the tide.
‘It’s that warmth and homeliness I want to bring to the UK.’
Lars cleared his throat and I realised with a start, I’d drifted away. ‘My mother would approve of this, it’s,’ he looked around the room, ‘very hygglich. You’ve done well. Very imaginative and perceptive. It’s very Danish. I can see you have an understanding of hygge already. I like the mugs.’
‘Thank you. And thank you for coming today and for giving me the chance to talk to you.’ My formal words dried on my tongue when Lars let out a bark of laughter.
‘No, you’re not. You’re cursing me for the short notice and the sparsity of information.’ The clipped Danish accent sounded charming and robbed the words of their bluntness.
Diplomacy warred with honesty for a moment.
I smiled at him. ‘Well, it isn’t the most orthodox approach but we were intrigued.’
‘So intrigued that your company wheeled out the big guns.’
Maybe that accent didn’t quite disguise the bluntness. I might not be a big gun but I was an up and coming sharp shooting pistol. Then he added with a charming smile, ‘And the home-baking.’
‘I was intrigued and I’m not afraid of a challenge. As you said this meeting was arranged at very short notice, however I work in the lifestyle department, my clients include a soft furnishing company, a coffee company, a chain of cheese shops and a boutique hotel group. I’m more than qualified to manage your account. My boss, who is out at meetings all day today (I mentally crossed my fingers) felt I would be the best person to talk to you.’ And not the most promotion hungry.
‘I didn’t give you much time to prepare, but you seem to have coped well. And you didn’t bombard me with emails with lots of questions.’ He looked around the room. I knew he was looking for the projector and laptop.
I put my hand up as if to halt his flow. ‘I’ll be honest. I haven’t prepared anything. Not because there wasn’t time but because I felt you’re the expert and you would know what you want. I know you’ve seen several different agencies, all top ones in their field. And all will have come up with brilliant ideas, but you clearly didn’t like any of them.
‘I figured it was easier to talk to you to find out what you’re looking for. The orthodox response didn’t sound as if it was going to help.’
Lars grinned and stood up to pace the room, his hands behind his back. ‘I like you, Kate Sinclair and I like the way you think. We Danes prefer a gentle approach. And already I can see you have a grasp of the mindset of hygge.’ When he said it, hygge sounded much less threatening New Zealand Hakka and a lot more appealing.
‘That’s kind of you to say, but I think I’ve got a long way to go. You should see where I live.’
‘Exactly,’ interjected Lars. ‘Every agency wanted to tell us what it was. It’s indefinable and means different things to different people. When it’s right it’s right. I’ve sat through so many presentations. If I hear about one more give-away promotion of instant hygge, hygge make-overs and hygge holiday breaks, I’m going to melt down every last candle in the UK.
‘The agencies we’ve seen have been too … It’s difficult to put into words. They were too,’ he shrugged again. He looked around at the room, smiling with a nod towards the candles. ‘Clinical and business-like. This. This, you’ve got it exactly right.’
I nodded and let him carry on.
‘Our store, Hjem, will be about much, much more than candles and blankets and products to buy, which is what everyone seems to think hygge is about. I want people to feel it throughout every department of the store, to spend time in the store, in the book department, in the cookery department. There’ll be displays, corners to sit in, demonstrations in flower arranging, cookery, card making, knitting classes, making Christmas decorations. It’s
