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‘But your life’s ambitions are to meet Oprah, get a job with Oprah, make friends with all of Oprah’s friends then slowly usurp Oprah in the hearts of the nation,’ Gina said. There was a lot of hair on my shoulders and a whole lot more on the floor. ‘So far, you’ve read Oprah’s books, bought Oprah’s magazines, watched Oprah’s show and pissed off all your friends by talking constantly about Oprah.’

‘Yes, but they are all important steps on becoming the next heart of the nation. And obviously, a billionaire.’ Jenny looked resolute. ‘What are your life’s ambitions, honey?’

I thought hard for a moment.

‘I don’t think I have any,’ I said. ‘Maybe I would like to have an original book published or have a column in a magazine or something. I don’t know, that stuff isn’t easy.’

‘But you can absolutely do it,’ Jenny said, pulling a pad and pen out of her handbag. ‘You just have to get organized. Let’s make a list. God, I love this!’

Gina pulled strands of my hair down to my chin to check the lengths. ‘Jesus, you’ve created a monster. Never give that girl a project.’ She tapped Jenny’s pad with her scissors. ‘Now no talking, I’m about to blow this baby out.’

Twenty minutes later I had a beautiful, chin-length swishy bob with a sweeping fringe, cutting across my right cheekbone. It looked grown-up but cute, stylish but not try hard. I doubted it would look this great ever again.

‘Now,’ Gina said scooping out a thumbnail of waxy looking product. ‘We have options, depending on what you decide to do with your life. What you’re looking at now is Park Avenue Princess. You could walk into any of the publishers right now and demand a book deal – super sophisticated.’ Jenny was nodding enthusiastically.

‘But now …’ Gina rubbed the wax into the palms of her hands and then attacked my hair, pushing it over the front of my head and raking her fingers through every section. When she flicked it all back, the smooth bob had given way to a choppy, layered, messed up look. Something I had tried to achieve in the past and just ended up looking as though I’d slept with wet hair. ‘Now you are ready to go and rock the Lower East Side with the rest of the hipsters. You like?’

‘Thank you,’ I muttered, so so happy. ‘I didn’t even know my hair could look this good.’ I couldn’t stop touching it, just tiny pinches at the ends in case too much contact made it poof … disappear.

‘I don’t want to see you with a hair out of place from now on.’ Gina stared me down and for a moment I thanked the managers of Rapture Paris.

‘OK, Angie honey, grab your bag. I’m taking that cute do of yours out on the town.’ Jenny forced down a final half brownie and pulled me out of the chair.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, letting Gina comb out some of the volume, returning to somewhere in between the sleek bob and the crazy chop. ‘Because I’m not really dressed for –’

Jenny took my hand and gave me a look you might give an elderly relative who thinks it’s still 1947. ‘Sweetness, that’s exactly why we’re going where we’re going.’

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