Chloe and a birthday cake

I was worried I was doing my 20s ‘wrong’

One Sunday morning recently — stretched out like a croissant on the grass of Carlton Gardens — a friend said to me, “I’m 29 years old and I’ve never been to the club or worn a tiny top!”

I’m also 29, and although my friend and I both google things like “Phoebe Waller-Bridge how old when” routinely, our twenties have unfolded in markedly different ways.

I’ve spent many a night peeling my shoes off the floor of the proverbial club, and I’ve worn plenty a tiny top, but I still don’t understand how money works, and I’ve only started my “career” .

“I’m 29 years old and I still don’t understand what the jobs are,” I replied, and as these words left my mouth I realised we were saying exactly the same thing: I have a sneaking suspicion. I’ve done it all wrong.

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