Some people are snobbish about clothes ; others buy what they like, wherever it might hail from. Other than steering clear of unfeasibly cheap ones whose price can lead me to question their manufacturing processes, I fall into the latter camp.

Even when my job involved me sitting on the front row at New York, London, Milan and Paris fashion weeks, I’d be dressed largely in Topshop, Zara and ASOS, with the occasional designer label in the mix. “Darling,” one fellow editor once admonished me. “Why are you wearing high street at a Gucci show?”

As someone who’s seen more four-figure garments up close than I can remember, I can knowledgeably attest that ‘ high price’ doesn’t always mean ‘high quality’ . There is no way – then, now or ever – that I’d pay over the odds for something just be

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