ONE TO WATCH

IMAN: FOCUSED

Name: Iman Iqbal (aka Princess)

D.O.B: 01/01/2007

Height: 5 ft 10 in (1.77 m)

Weight: 63kg

Sign of the Zodiac: Capricorn

Eye colour: Hazel (blue flecks)

Nationality: English

Fashion Week

Beside Iman's narrow bed, blue-tacked to the wall, was a laminated roadmap—her goals, dreams, and plans all laid out in black ink and pink highlighter. It was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes each morning. She allowed herself a minute or two to contemplate the day ahead before launching out of bed with the enthusiasm of a young bullfighter.

In the darkened room, Iman retrieved the clothes she'd steam-cleaned the night before from her closet. On the far side of the room, gentle snores emanated from beneath the covers of a second single bed. Her roommate, Shortie had gotten in late the night before. She ducked into the bathroom, then tiptoed back, grabbing her gym bag on the way out. On the landing, she briefly saw Charlie, wrapped in a large pink towel, disappearing into her room.

With a coffee in hand, Iman swivelled into an office chair, one leg tucked beneath her, in the study nook she shared with Shorty. A weak sun streamed through the skylight above. She had a busy day ahead. The first step on her roadmap was to earn enough money from modeling to launch a startup with her brother Mathew. She was well on her way.

To those who didn't know them well, Mathew was considered the brains of the family. Iman's closest confidantes knew better. Over the past year, the siblings had been developing a new-age project management software in collaboration with their business partner Ajun. The idea for the software had been hers. It would be functional, customizable, and beautiful.

Iman reached into the desk drawer and pulled out her laptop, opening Outlook and then Zoom. Her computer signaled a fifteen-minute reminder for a daily stand-up meeting with their development team in India. She sent a quick note in the chat to send her apologies and got on with responding to emails using an immersive reader tool that cut her reading time in half. Within ten minutes, she closed her laptop, ignoring the part of her that wanted to attend the stand-up, if only to hear about yesterday's progress. It wasn't difficult to do. She'd trained herself well. Behind her double deficit dyslexia lay a sharp intellect and a will of steel—Iman knew better than anyone that discipline was vital to success. Today's plan required her to get to the gym before brunch at Cova Montenapoleone at ten-thirty and then head to work. She pushed her chair back, slung her gym bag over her shoulder, and exited the house.