Up one flight and follow the arrows, and she is standing in the doll aisle, taking in the array. Purple plastic and pink plastic and fuchsia plastic vie for the title of Most Disgusting Shade, and the staringly exaggerated eyes of minidolls glower from the racks. She is able to discount immediately anything that is too small and anything that does not afford full access to the interior. Also unsuitable are those models with network access and cameras built in. At last, she calls a harried sales assistant over and gives him a list of specifications, which the man duly works his way through until he is able to propose two options. The plain white wooden one which she would actually like to give someone—if she knew any children—is frustratingly twice as expensive as the hideous Fashion TV Studio Plus! which doubles as a make-up station and occasionally speaks to you in a trilling faux-Italian accent about the importance of looking your best.