I’m sure you’ve all heard the ubiquitous line: summer bodies are made in winter. Well, the same can be said for autumn and winter wardrobes, which are delivered to the shops under August’s blazing sun and bring with them the unfortunate conundrum of having to try on floor length coats while everyone else swans about fanning themselves with their midriffs on show.

That said, this diatribe is not aimed at this particular problem that huffing and puffing fashionistas everywhere face in the name of putting together the perfect look before the leaves turn brown, but rather at a more worrying and critical issue: that of getting into the clothes themselves.

The story goes a bit like this: at the end of August the shops were finally free of the sale stock and newly-endowed with spanking brand new stock, which meant that I could once again venture safely into them without the possibility of being hospitalised over wresting the last pair of leather trousers out of someone’s clenched fists.

I approached a pile of cool, red, Yves St Laurent-inspired PVC skirts and, since I have no illusions about my size, I immediately selected one in XL and was pretty sure that I didn’t need to try it on since that particular size had always fit me well enough.

I was about to forgo the whole changing room experience (which I abhor) and march triumphantly out of the shop, but something niggled at me to try the thing on and lo and behold, when I did, not only did the zip not remotely look like there was any chance of it closing, but there was literally a Grand Canyonesque space between one half of the skirt and the other, with a mere sliver of zipper in between its upper half.

In what world is a size 10 considered to be XL?

So what’s the big deal? Well, the big deal is that I haven’t gotten fatter, yet high street sizing seems to have gone on a diet, leaving girls who aren’t big enough to be plus size, but aren’t small enough to be considered slender, at a bit of a loss.

While fashion, like beauty, has never been democratic, we should be able to expect an XL size to fit a size 12-14 woman and not my size 10 friend who tried it on later to humour me. In what world is a size 10 considered to be XL?

I am always urging people to accept themselves and be happy with themselves whatever their size, but how are we meant to do that when society itself is changing the meaning of what it defines as big right on our shelves?

I think we can all agree that we deserve a little more respect.