I watched an arena of people swoon over her. It was difficult not to join them

At school, I was a prefect. I am a goody two-shoes, so I relished the job. I took it seriously, sometimes tracing the little green prefect’s badge on my collar with pride. Yes, it was a figurehead position, but it meant something to me.

I reckon Michelle Obama feels a version of this (to the power of 1,000). The office of the first lady of the US is a weird, elevated mantle to uphold, a semi-archaic symbol with limited power, but, gosh, she’s worn it so well.

Like so many accomplished women before her, Michelle Obama, 52, first came to wider attention as a political spouse. After that, the magazine profiles started: raised in Chicago, studied at Princeton and then Harvard law school, mother to two girls. Every article noted her brainpower and then mentioned how it would have to take the back seat to her husband’s career. I try to think of it – shelving a promising career for your much-loved spouse’s ambitions – and I get a little sad.

Why I love… film-maker Barry Jenkins Read more

But Michelle Obama never looks sad about it. It’s worth noting her grace in all this: smiling for the cameras, making incendiary speeches, promoting children’s healthy living, raising her daughters, and even the indignity of Carpool Karaoke. And to be doing it under a cloud of disrespect, resentment and overt racism – well, what a dame.

And not that it matters, but she looks amazing (hello, three Vogue covers). At the Democratic convention in July, I watched an arena of people lose their cool and swoon over her. It was difficult not to join them.

Is she perfect? No one is. But I’m not ready to say goodbye. Good luck to her successor, because, man, those boots will take some filling.