I really do need something right now, I’m afraid.” She looked me up and down.
“Where is it that you’re going?” “The Cuttings,” I said proudly.
She stuck out her bottom lip, nodded once, slowly. “What are you, a twelve?”
I nodded, impressed that she had been able to size me up so accurately by sight alone. She checked her watch.
“Follow me,” she said. It seemed that there were a variety of stores within the store, and she took me to the least prepossessing outlet.
“OK, off the top of my head,” she said, “these...” a pair of ridiculously slender black denim trousers
“... with this...” a black top, similar to a T-shirt but in faux silk, with a keyhole of fabric missing from the back.
“Really?” I said. “I was thinking more along the lines of a nice dress, or a skirt and blouse.”
She looked me up and down again. “Trust me,” she said. The changing room was small and smelled of unwashed feet and air freshener.
The jeans looked too small but, miraculously, they stretched around me and I was able to fasten them.
The top was loose, with a high neck. I felt appropriately covered up, if nothing else, although I couldn’t see the cutout section at the back.
I looked exactly like everyone else. I supposed that was the point.
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