In the queue outside the Brora cashmere sample sale, the sense of excitement was palpable. About 200 women stood closely behind each other, jaws clenched, eyeing impatiently the entrance barred by a burly security guard. It was 8:55 in the morning.

In their designer clothes (from three seasons ago), the sort of ladies normally predisposed to peaceful yoga postures were prepared to step on bodies if necessary to get inside the shabby building. Some had travelled two hours by train that morning for the one-off sale of heavily discounted cashmere sweaters, blankets and fashion items dumped from rubbish bags on to worn trestle tables.