Chapter 723: Acrylic Tracksuit

"Your dad asked to see me. Should I go?"

Adrian Hawthorne sneered to himself. ’So he’s finally lost his patience.’

"We’ll meet, but on my terms. I’ll set the time and let you know."

Adrian Hawthorne decided to string his father along for a while longer. He’d sell off another shipment first; after all, he wasn’t the one in a hurry. His old man was.

"Alright, just let me know once you’ve decided," Goldie Thorne said smugly. "And let me tell you, your dad might look calm on the outside, but he’s a wreck. He didn’t even enjoy the New Year." In Tristone, Goldie had made another circle of cronies, a few of whom lived near Ethan Hawthorne. They watched Ethan’s every move, day in and day out. Aside from his private affairs at night, they knew pretty much everything about his daily routine.

"Good. Let him be anxious," Adrian Hawthorne said, shifting to business. "I’ve ordered a shipment of corduroy and khaki cloth from Madman Feng, plus a batch of acrylic fabric. Your main job is to sell the corduroy and khaki. They’re what’s in season right now."

Cashmere was a tough sell after the New Year, but corduroy and khaki were coming into season. Whether you were selling finished clothing or just the fabric, you always had to be a season ahead: sell winter goods in the fall, spring goods in the winter, and summer goods in the spring. Adrian Hawthorne had traveled to Capria before the holiday to personally select the patterns and varieties, arranging for Madman Feng to ship them over by freight train.

He had enough capital now, so he no longer needed to buy on credit. Still, Madman Feng stuck to their usual arrangement: ship the goods first, get paid later. He never actively asked for payment, but Adrian Hawthorne made sure to wire the money immediately upon receiving each shipment, never once delaying.

"A friend of mine was just asking about corduroy and khaki yesterday," Goldie Thorne said frankly. "But I’m worried the acrylic fabric will be a tough sell. It’s not great for making clothes."

"You won’t be selling the acrylic fabric," Adrian Hawthorne said, revealing he already had a plan. "I’m going to have it made into finished garments to sell."

He would turn this batch of acrylic fabric into tracksuits—blue with white stripes. They were the height of fashion right now. In the market, a set sold for over twenty yuan, but the material cost was low. Acrylic is a synthetic fiber, with raw materials similar to polyester. The wholesale price was only fifty cents a foot. One tracksuit would require ten feet of fabric at most. Including labor, the total cost would be around seven or eight yuan. If he sold a set for twenty yuan, people would be lining up to buy them.

That was a profit of more than ten yuan per set—far more lucrative than just selling the raw fabric.

He had ordered only three colors: magenta, dark blue, and pure white. The women’s tracksuits would be magenta with white stripes, while the men’s would be blue with white stripes. The construction wasn’t complex; with the current skill level of Phoebe Huxley and her team, they could easily produce ten sets a day.

"What kind of clothes can you even make from acrylic?" Goldie Thorne worried. "It’s all flimsy. It won’t hold its shape for a jacket, and it’s uncomfortable against the skin for underwear. It’s worse than plain cotton." He was worried Adrian Hawthorne had miscalculated, which would cost them a fortune.

Adrian Hawthorne just smiled, full of confidence. "We’re not making jackets, and we’re not making underwear. We’re making tracksuits."

Goldie Thorne froze for a second before realization dawned on him. He slapped his forehead. "Of course! It’s perfect for tracksuits! Just the other day, a friend of mine was complaining that he had to buy his kid a new tracksuit for the upcoming spring sports meet. Said one set costs twenty-five or twenty-six yuan!"

"Tell your friend not to buy one. You can give him a set for free, on the condition that he advertises for us."

"No problem! An offer that good? He’ll be thrilled."

Goldie Thorne agreed with relish, his admiration for Adrian Hawthorne’s mind growing by the second. He stared at him for a good while before he couldn’t help but reach out and pat Adrian’s head a couple of times. "Your head doesn’t even look that big," he marveled. "How do you cram so many brilliant ideas in there?"

Adrian Hawthorne irritably slapped his paw away. He was secretly pleased, but he said humbly, "Just read, observe, and think more. You’ll be able to do it too."