I know he was controversial (probably for good reason), but I’m drawn again and again to David Hamilton’s photography. It suits the place I’m in. My parents always told me that clothes come in cycles; that one day I’d be drawn back to the pleated denim skirts and jumpers and pale white keds; the victorian blouses and the braids. I said I wouldn’t. I was wrong.

Which is maybe why I bought a long pink dress tonight, with the beginnings of shoulder pads and a crowned neck. I’ve never met a dress that I couldn’t put scissors to; this dress is no exception.