But she wasn’t a makeup artist, she was a miracle worker. My skin glowed, my eyes shone, and my lips were full and plump. I looked like someone who got eight hours of sleep every night, an hour of exercise every day, and always drank enough water, rather than an habitual insomniac who wheezed walking up the hill and couldn’t start her morning without three cups of tea at home and the promise of a giant coffee on the way to work.

‘I’ve kept it simple,’ she said, dropping bits and pieces into a clear plastic sandwich bag while I continued to stare at myself. Even my hair looked good. I’d twisted it up into a messy braided knot at the back of my head, with just the tiniest hint of pink left after my extremely thorough shower. ‘Good skin, tiny bit of highlight, big eyes, nude lips. You don’t want to be worrying about touch-ups all night.’

‘Can you come home with me?’ I asked. ‘I can’t believe I actually look this good.’

I stood up in my dress and marvelled at the full effect. Thanks to some incredibly clever engineering, you couldn’t even tell I’d just put away an entire pizza and half a plate of chips. However much this dress cost, it was worth every penny.

‘Believe it.’ Rachel held up the sandwich bag for my inspection. ‘This has everything you need for touch-ups. You’ve got lipstick, pressed powder, blotting papers, a couple of tissues plus a tampon and a Sharpie.’

Tearing my eyes away from the mirror, I took the bag and turned it over in my hands. ‘Well, thank you, but I don’t need the tampon and I am confused about the Sharpie.’

‘Someone will need the tampon and you’ll be there to save the day,’ she replied. ‘And a Sharpie is always a good idea. What if Taylor Swift wants your autograph? Now, where’s your bag?’

‘Oh, shit.’ I gritted my teeth and sucked in the air. ‘I don’t have one.’

‘Nothing handbag-like in those gift baskets?’ Rachel suggested, looking around the dressing room for a viable alternative.

I shook my head. ‘Not unless you count the actual baskets themselves and that might be a touch too Red Riding Hood for what we want.’

‘I could draw a Louis Vuitton logo on the sandwich bag and you can tell people it’s a repurposed LV by some wanky avant-garde designer they haven’t heard of?’

‘Let me check the gift baskets again,’ I said, gathering my skirts and sprinting into the lounge. But before I made it all the way over to the dining table, I spotted something even better.

‘Look!’ I said, dashing back with a small silver cushion in my hand. ‘It’s perfect!’