OK, so Carrie Bradshaw coined it. But anyone, anywhere, who’s as obsessed with décor as I am, has felt it. Once upon a time, in a pre-kids life, I used to spend my Saturday afternoons traipsing the city centre in search of the next item of clothing that would utterly transform my wardrobe. As my eyes settled upon the prey, often referred to as ‘the most beautiful pair of shoes I’ve ever seen’ or ‘the most beautiful dress that has ever been’ , the stars would align, et voilà, it would all just fall into place. In my head, all sorts of forgotten clothing gems would leap from their dusty space at the back of a drawer to jostle for a date with this new kid on the block. Of course, this isn’t how it ever went in the end (obviously - clothes can’t actually jump.) I just told myself that to justify my newest purchase. But putting outfits together took me to my happy place. Never more joyful was I than when my bed was covered entirely in clothes, having pulled every potential item from the wardrobe and subsequently completed a catwalk show for my mum and wee sis, before choosing the perfect ensemble for my Saturday night out.