‘Today I’m Cinderella. My dress still smells under the armpits from the July day in Los Feliz when I had to do a party for ten children in 98 degree weather. The nylon is sticking to the backs of my thighs and I roll down the window to try and get a breeze while I adjust the wig over my hair. It’s always easier when I’m Belle. I don’t have to tuck all my hair under as carefully. Belle and I are both brunettes, but Cinderella is pure golden blonde.’