I knew something was not quite right when they asked me to dance. But before I could protest (and explain that my hips are as rigid as a plank) there I was, on a balcony turned stage, flapping my limbs about next to a stupidly good-looking 21-year-old man I’d never met before. For two hours I toiled there. It was my job to. My employers? Abercrombie & Fitch.
Abercrombie was not exactly a typical workplace. At least it wasn’t when I was employed there, aged 16 in 2010 as a sales assistant, a role it hilariously called “model”. The London flagship store, which opened in 2007 on a street adjoining Savile Row, was practically a carbon copy of its American counterparts, all blacked-out windows and
