The sales assistants are whispering. They beam as he shows them the collection, and then they chivvy me along to an empty cubicle at the back.

He waits for me, and I feel so self-conscious, trying on such beautiful clothes under harsh lighting. My skin looks pasty and pale, my eyes look tired and my hair looks wispy and fine. But the clothes. They look gorgeous.

I show him a tight pink cami over a pair of white jeans, and he likes them. He tells me so.

I try floaty dresses over tights, and he likes those more. I do a little twirl for him and he claps his hands...