My mother made many of our clothes when we were small and, in her book, frills and little girls were a match made in heaven. Also, she believed women went into sartorial retirement the moment they had their first baby. Having had five kids before she was 30, she wisely relented on the latter point. Unfortunately, however, either her dressmaking skills, or the speed at which she felt compelled to work, meant her frills never appeared quite where they were designed to, and the item of clothing itself generally fitted only where it touched. So probably my only rule in life is: no frills.

Shulman says: “Frills are only remotely possible if you are young enough to think that Princess Diana’s wedding dress can be referenced ironically” – a dress that I vaguely remember as a big puffy creation, the kind of thing that might be worn by a bridal Barbie.