Around two decades ago, I worked for the London offshoot of Condé Nast as an online writer for GQ. Online was not yet taken seriously, and rather than being allowed to sit with the magazine staff in their ritzy offices in the company's expensive building, Vogue House, in Mayfair's Hanover Square, we were all secluded in an attic-like mezzanine on the top floor. We were regarded as so irrelevant that the building's lifts did not reach as far as our enclave, meaning that we were all faced with a steep climb up a ladder-like flight of stairs to get to our desks.

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