The Oscars were Sunday. My daughter watched the red carpet. I watched her.

I work in fashion. I have spent twenty years thinking about why clothes matter, what they are actually doing on a body, what the person wearing them is trying to say and to whom. And I have spent thirteen years watching my daughter develop her own relationship with appearance — what she wears, how she feels in it, the specific look she gives herself in the mirror when something is right.

So I sat down next to her and we watched together for a while without talking. This is a skill I learned late and recommend early: watch what your child is watching, alongside them, before you say anything about it.

After a few minutes she said: 'She looks uncomfortable.' I asked which one. She pointed. The woman was in something technically spectacular — the kind of construction that requires weeks of labour and arrives in a box with a team to put it on you. She was also holding herself in a particular way that my daughter, at thirteen, had correctly identified as discomfort.

'How can you tell?' I asked.

'She's not moving right. Like she's trying to take up less space than the dress.'