HANNAH: There is great contemporary social wisdom in the Instagram hashtag #clothesmyhusbandhates. Ditto Leandra Medine’s genius Manrepeller, the website that began life in 2010 as a blog inspired by Topshop’s acid-wash harem trousers. For, far from dressing for the opposite sex – as straight men are wont to imagine – we females tend to be rigging ourselves out for other women, a handful of A-gays and ourselves. [TERENCE: In your feminist dreams. She can’t go to the Co-op without sounding me out about her outfit.] In my own case, I have long been a homovestite [TERENCE: What she means is more make-up than Danny La Rue. I live with Widow Twankey] – a woman who gets a kick out of dressing like a woman; never backward about coming forward in the realm of camp femininity. By coincidence, this means that dressing for myself and chap-pleasing do, very often, overlap. It would be fair to say that Tezzer is pretty responsive to this. Not as responsive as the former flirtation who used to request daily updates on the matching of underwear to shoes. [TERENCE Only Benny Hill-types fetishise women in underwear.] Repressed Englishman that he is, Terence will avert his eyes should he happen to even catch me in my underwear. However, dressed I provoke less embarrassment, and he will show his appreciation with periodic exclamations of: ‘You’re a nice girl.’ [TERENCE: Uptight British male for: ‘I, a man, find you, a woman, attractive.’] When asked to catalogue his favourite aspects of my wardrobe, the list includes: ‘Silk, capes, lace, heels, long gloves, jewels, and hats with veils.’ [TERENCE: I have obviously watched too many BBC costume dramas.] This is good because if he didn’t love all of the above, plus spots, stripes and pearls, then he couldn’t love me. Tactility scores points in the manner of ‘velvet and furs’, together with a penchant for cashmere. He may admire my panto-style military coat, but utilitarianism otherwise appals him. The grey trench in which I feel I am all shades of Audrey fills him with gloom. Handbags he enjoys when they are tricksy in some manner. But too much antic joy unsettles him – coloured fishnets, yes; glitter socks, no. [TERENCE: Betts’s one fashion-fail of 2019: what is it with women and twinkling footwear?] And, yet, still the most enthusiastic he has ever been about my garb [TERENCE: Outdoorsy is hot, not least because I get to see what you look like in daylight.] was when I donned walking boots and waterproofs for a sodden hike. And they say women are contradictory. Still, one lesson Tezzer gleaned from going out with French girls in his 20s is that manrepelling is preferable to slavish sartorial man-pleasing; better the self-assurance that comes with the odd castrating element, than the tedium of craven approval-seeking. Medine discovered this herself when her future husband asked her out while she was sporting the dreaded harem pants. She looked so joyously herself.