There comes a time in every woman’s life when she realises she’s a cliche. Maybe you had your moment in June, when you walked into a pub garden and saw four women wearing leopard-print midi skirts identical to yours. Or perhaps the scales fell from your eyes way back in 2017, when you went round to your best friend’s house and saw that she, like you, had just bought a monstera deliciosa.

Personally, my cliche epiphany came earlier this summer. I was lying on my bed, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when a photo of a bedroom – white walls, large patterned rug, framed print of Henri Matisse’s Blue Nude II on the wall – slid into view. A little jolt rolled across my skin. The bedroom looked exactly like mine.