Wow, love that dress Tamara,’ my co-worker said, admiring my designer frock.
‘Oh, thanks,’ I smiled, not daring to tell her I’d bought it second-hand.
It was 1997 and, aged 21, I’d travelled to the UK, landing a job at Sotheby’s, the posh auction house in London. As they sold art, jewellery and antiques, sometimes for millions of dollars apiece, the company expected their staff to be dressed accordingly. Unfortunately I wasn’t paid a huge salary.
So I began shopping at charity stores, blown away by the amount
