The great size debate: will it ever stop? How did it ever begin? “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels”, says Mr I-went-to-rehab-because-of-my-broken-foot Steve Tyler. There you have it: thin is in. But – oh – then we see Kelly Brooke, “I use sex to stay in shape” (could I have tailor-made a comment directed at men only, that would have been it. In close second would be “I just love baking; I’d much rather stay at home and bake than go out”, Ms Longoria).

So what is the answer? Are we better with a bit of junk in the trunk? Is a lady better with some lady lumps, or should she be on the treadmill faster than you can say “Coke bloat”?

The truth is, there is no easy answer; predictably, and, sadly, unoriginally, it’s up to you – and they do say that there’s nothing more sexy than confidence. Tragically, that phrase is usually heard coming out of the perfect lips of Ms Jolie or, occasionally, Ms Lopez, so it would stand to reason that being sexy makes you confident in the first place; for those of us who were never sexy, confidence is therefore unachievable, and we can never be sexy, as one begets the other (the chicken, you ask, or the egg?).

What is important is the size you wear, usually relative to the size you are. If you are a size 14 (you’ll know because Topshop will rarely fit you, French Connection will allow you to squeeze into a 12 and Warehouse will do the deed every time), chances are you may wear a size 12, even when you’re not shopping in French Connection – leading to a dreaded case of muffin top, or, in extreme cases, the dreaded camel toe. It may seem vulgar, but nothing’s more vulgar than catching a glimpse of someone’s nethers while they stroll along, apparently without a care in the world.

And, come on, nothing makes you look less attractive than an ill-fitting garment. Exhibit A, a lot of girls in Dublin. (Dublin girls, in general, are Ciara’s territory and she is penning a tome about them, to be published some time soon). Exhibit B, a few boys in Dublin. Muscles are only sexy if you can fit them in your t-shirt; remember, nobody liked the Hulk when he was angry, except perhaps my Dad, who laughed his way through Jurassic Park (I was seven, and I was traumatised; was a shared fear too much to ask for?).

And the thing is, at the moment there seems to be a kind of backlash against body-con; not in Posh Spice’s territory (the red carpet), but in the real world where layers are in and, excepting the amazing woman seen this morning on the 15B in the high-waisted shorts, red striped maritime sweater and amazing grey boots, people – girls especially – are covering it up. All of it. And then they’re covering that up with something else. And layers, it’s true, they make you look tiny. The more layers, the tinier you are. Exhibit B: Mary-Kate Olsen.

Really, wear what you want to wear (I am a walking cliché today, but it’s late, and I’m tired, and feeling desopndent that my blog has been so neglected. Una managed to go to Glasto and blog her little heart out afterwards) – just buy it in the right size. And if you’re unsure, go bigger: leave room for that extra bit of sumthin’ sumthin’.