Polly Vernon

YOU EVER heard of Ôeveingõ? Probably not, I only just THIS MINUTE

christened it, though you’ll recognise the underlying concept once I explain. Eveing is that very female dynamic, in which one woman ingratiates herself into the affections, relationships and/or work of another, then tries to replace her. I’ve named it in honour of All About Eve, the 1950 film which has just reopened as a play starring Gillian Anderson and Lily James ( plot spoiler: an ambitious fan endears herself to a revered older Broadway star, chips away at her friendships and sanity from within, then appropriates her status and success). And bloody hell! It’s weird. And bloody hell! It happens.

Eve is the girl at school who loves everything you wear so much she starts copying you, and at first it’s cute, plus she always asks, but then – she stops asking and the copying happens so often and fluently you can’t remember who did what first, and your mum says, ‘Imitation is the highest form of flattery,’ but it gets really intense, and you feel like your vibe has been colonised; until, one day, she fully pretends to be you, and… Rather than flattering: might imitation actually be a sign someone wants to cut off your skin and wear it as a suit?

Eve is the chick who fell out with all her mates, because she’s got this weird glitch where she repeatedly accidentally hooks up with their boyfriends, and she doesn’t mean to! She hates herself for it! And you feel bad for her – she’s mixed up and lonely and sweet underneath it all – and she says you’re the only person in the whole wide world who she feels safe confiding in and… WHAT IS SHE DOING WITH YOUR BLOKE? WHY IS SHE HOLDING HIS HAND?

Eve is the promising young woman at work who asks for advice, hangs on your every word, says how much she admires you; so you buy her lunch and talk her up to the boss and recall that Madeleine Albright quote ( bastardised by Donald Tusk) about how ‘ There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women…’ cos that’s not you, no siree, but then, bitch takes credit for something you did, nicks your promotion and your desk… and, oh! You’re very much hoping there’s a special place in hell for Eves, too.

Eves do not fit with current narratives on feminism and the all-supporting sisterhood, but they are there, and they’re real, and I’m sorry about that, though not as sorry as you’ll be if you get mixed up with one. Eves don’t want anyone, or anything, unless some other woman has it first, because then: they can take it away.