Áine has been self-isolating, by choice, for most of 2020. She has 80,000 words to deliver by December 15 – the first draft of her memoir, working title High Res – and thus far her output could best be described as slow and sloer. An addiction to her own sloe gin concoction (mixed with Bertha’s Revenge) in the evenings has hindered progress, as has her need to frequently restyle her “writing corner” complete with vintage Remington Steel typewriter and then Instagram the view – a perfect Georgian window overlooking a meadow. Captions have taken up further creative energy, but it’s all in a good cause – massaging her profile as an observant and sensate creature. She fervently believes in Diana Vreeland’s maxim that elegance begins in the mind.

A?ine is feeling particularly buoyant about Christmas: she has always endured rather than enjoyed the festive season. Secret Santa, work drinks and office parties are her be?te noir – now she can swerve them completely. Not that she is frugal or a Scrooge. No, she has a perfectly Merry Clickmas underway, with packages arriving daily which she will place under a self-lighting faux olive tree. Her book advance is almost entirely spent in these late night self-gifting forays. Her rationale – there’s no point writing about her luxury lifestyle if she’s not living it. Herme?s lipsticks, cashmere socks, dry masks and Lisa Corti placemats are stocking fillers. To offset the expenditure, A?ine has also been decluttering and attempting to gather some shekels via Facebook Marketplace and eBay. As a result she’s on first name terms with all the delivery companies. A?ine is looking forward to emerging from her creative cocoon a fully fledged author and is already picturing the book launch in early March, with a podcast to follow. Appointments at the Alan Keville salon have been carefully choreographed to ensure she is tressed for success. Roll on 2021!