Each time I attempt to plan my outfits for tournaments I've never been to, nine times out of ten it's a total miss. I end up packing one thing, then buying something when I arrive because I realize I've packed completely the wrong thing — or suddenly we're halfway through the day and I'm begging Charlie to buy me a workout set from the gift shop because I've sweat through my entire outfit.

“Where does real spectator fashion, luxury or not, fit into all of this? Where are the women who buy $50 upper-bowl tickets on Centre Court but look like they belong front row?”