Here’s something I never thought I’d say, let alone commit to metaphorical paper: I quite enjoy going into the office. I like wearing cute outfits (Corpcore! Office Siren!), catching up with my colleagues, and generally feeling purposeful click-clacking across London like an extra in the opening scene of The Devil Wears Prada.
Of course, a large part of this enjoyment comes from the fact that I only have to do it a few times a week. Pulling together a workwear wardrobe is fun when it’s novel, as most things are. However, the bulk of my actual work gets done at home where I can bunker down in leggings and an old jumper and just write—as I am now.
