There are many reasons why people need help shopping for clothes. These days, people are less confident about their appearance than ever. Sometimes they don’t have the confidence to try something new. Sure, they can choose the labels that also have a line of accessories like beaded bags and matching hats, but although it makes shopping easier, it’s self-defeating in a way. There’s always the risk that someone else is going to show up wearing exactly the same thing and that they’ll both have to spend the whole occasion keeping as far away from each other as possible to avoid looking like middle-aged twins.

Fashions change. Partners aren’t always helpful enough – or patient enough – to give an honest second opinion. After two outfits, a man will say that anything looks great, just so that he can be done with the whole boring business and go home. Friends aren’t always tactful and those who follow trends are the worst. There’s nothing more demoralising than shopping with a fashionista who pushes into the dressing room, tries on the stuff that her friend has just turned down and looks fabulous in everything.

As a personal stylist, my job was to make my clients look in the mirror and see themselves differently. I was supportive, admiring and knowledgeable. For a period of two hours, I was the perfect friend; bringing coffee or prosecco, zipping and unzipping, encouraging them to own the clothes – can you sit in it? Eat in it? Dance in it? And then I’d get them thinking about accessories: bags, shoes, scarves, pendants, fur cuffs, sunglasses – the beautiful final touches that make a look. It was a brilliant feeling to see a woman admiring herself in the mirror with happy disbelief – and keep on looking. For me, that was the ultimate job satisfaction. I discovered I, too, had the ability to see women through their own eyes and boost their confidence by transforming them into someone new.

The client who got me fired was an elderly man shopping for his wife. His name was Kim Aston. He arrived for the two-hour appointment, a neat, slightly built man about my own height, wearing a suit and a bright, multicoloured silk tie. His greying hair was short and swept back from his forehead.

He looked nervously at the glittering chandeliers and the ornate chairs and faced me with a frown. ‘I was just about to leave,’ he said as soon as I introduced myself.

‘Are you in a hurry?’ I asked.

‘No. It’s just that—’ He looked up at the enormous chandelier again as if its blatant, lavish extravagance was putting him off. ‘I didn’t think it was going to be so—’ He shrugged and tailed off.