Is this what The Girl wants to read? I’m honestly not sure. Because when Harri talks about The Girl, it’s not a woman I recognise. We all seem to be writing for a young woman who seems sneery, stuck-up, difficult to impress.

I know how magazines work. We need to make out that we’re writing for this glossy, confident audience, because glossy, confident people like buying things. Even so, I believe The Girl is much more vulnerable and uncertain than Harri thinks she is, and that’s the reader I want to speak to. The reader who needs us the most. The messages are becoming increasingly alarming. ‘Hi Imogen, I loved your piece about festival sex—but I’m not body confident. How can I go to outdoor events and feel sexy when I’m so ashamed of the size of my thighs?’

‘This is for Imogen—could she write back and tell me how she manages to be confident on TV? I’m giving a presentation at work, and I’m so scared, I haven’t been sleeping. Hoping she has some tips!’

‘Dear Imogen, I’ve tried everything in your dating profile feature but I’m still not getting any matches, can you reply and tell me what I’m doing wrong? I think lip fillers might help?’ Then there are the ones—hundreds of them, every week—who think that all they want is to come and work at The Know. ‘I know I don’t have much experience, but I’m really organised and passionate,’ or ‘Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamed about writing, and at the moment, the only chance I have to be creative is when I write the company newsletter.’ ‘I’ve applied for so many jobs, and I never even get an email of acknowledgement.’ ‘I know twenty-eight seems a bit too old to do work experience but I’ve been saving my holiday allowance, and I really think…’

It’s heartbreaking. Some days, I wish we could give them all jobs. Some days, I feel like weeping with rage. It took me years, and years, to get here, and I never sent emails like this. I’ve worked to work, taking on as many minimum wage night jobs as I could, in order to pay for the privilege of working for free. Even so, I’m in debt. I’ve slept on so many floors that I have permanently twisted a nerve behind one of my shoulder blades. I’ve been treated like shit, and I’ve cried, and I’ve felt very, very hungry.