A recent newspaper headline – “Sorry Radley! These dated handbag brands will make you look mumsy – here’s where stylish A-listers and Royals are shopping instead” – reminded me of a word I despise: “mumsy”.

My list of words that make me want to throw things is varied and long, but “mumsy” is near the top. The quality of being mumsy means to be drab, homely or old-fashioned, essentially “motherly”. Something about the casual misogynistic contempt it carries makes me livid. So livid I might even use “that voice”. You know. The scary mum voice that turns misbehaving children in supermarkets into stone.

“Mumsy” crops up in fashion coverage, which in autumn is unduly focused on the new school-run “style rules”. Articles about how to look chic at the school gate and short-form videos about “what the cool mums are wearing” add to this feeling that the last thing you, as a mother, would want to appear as is what you actually are: someone’s mum.

Of course, it’s understandable, and totally normal, to not want to be entirely defined by your reproductive status. Few of us want our entire identities to be “mother”. I still remember the shock I felt when a health professional first referred to me as “Mum” instead of by my name.........

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