Invisibility

I met Jenny in a female communal changing room in Miss Selfridges. A strange place to find an invisible girl until I discovered she was a lesbian.    I've never asked her if invisible women are more liable to be turned-on visually than the visible variety. I came to the conclusion that maybe only if you were a 19-year-old, lesbian and invisible. And left it at that. It didn't matter. It was just good to have an invisible partner in crime.    We solidified our friendship in swimming pool changing rooms, saunas, various girly chain-stores, single-sex halls of residence, and at certain sporting events. Our joint favourite were the changing rooms at Harvey Nichols’ but we kept this for special occasions. Didn't abuse it. So tonight we're chilling invisibly. Chatting about the invisible and all things invisible.    We inevitably get on to the topic of the nightclub in New York exclusively for the invisible. A popular rumour amongst the invisible in London. We talk with an excited vagueness in the same vein as 'what would you do if you won the lottery' - knowing neither of us will ever find out.    We are both avoiding the topic of who is going to go out to steal the next bottle of wine. I sense her occasionally glancing over at the bottle. There's two inches left.    I know Jenny well enough to realise she's started thinking about it. I have too but I'm also thinking - how difficult can it be when you're invisible?

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