In October I went from a Thursday meeting directly to drinks. A colleague had just left the bank. This was the send-off. I wore dark trousers, a silk-ish blouse, and heeled ankle boots. I had bought the boots partly because…

The blouse was white. Not cream, not ivory — white. I had owned it for two years without incident, because I had never worn it on a full working day. I wore it on a Tuesday in March because everything…

The meeting was at 14:00. I had dressed for a desk day. No external people on the calendar, nothing requiring more than functional. At 11:30, my manager forwarded a calendar invite. Two names I didn’t recognise had been added. No…

My feet hurt for about eighteen months before I did anything about it. Not constantly. Not dramatically. Just the specific, low-grade kind of hurt that starts around 3pm and gets worse on the U-Bahn home. I had two pairs of…

The invitation said smart casual. I read it on a Thursday evening and set my phone down. By Saturday morning I had tried on eleven combinations and was seriously considering inventing a work commitment. The event was a leaving dinner…