1.

The club is down an alley in the top end of city. It looks like an office building or a hotel. There is a doorman in the foyer and a pale-green velvet couch. A clothing rack filled with designer coats. I am wearing an ankle-length blond fur. My auntie kisses me hello, she comments on the fur in a tone that could equally be admonishment or admiration. My sister, when she first saw the coat, asked if it was made out of guinea pigs.

The women at the club are all blonde or blow-dried brunette with fine auburn highlights. They wear delicate gold jewellery, their faces are taut and shiny. They smile carefully, unwilling to expend elasticity. They are all, very deliberately, thin.