“It’s Lindsay 🙂 Hiya! You interested in coming to the club tonight?”

It’s nearing midnight. The air outside the north London studio is still warm, and from the balcony we watch, Lindsay and I, the jagged outline of the capital twinkling in its urban peaks and troughs. Parliament cigarette in one hand, mobile phone in the other, Lindsay has decided, mid-fag break, to conduct her own mini photo shoot. ‘Look! We should just do it out here,’ she giggles, showing me her shots, while Rankin and a 20-strong team wait patiently inside.

Even in BlackBerry self-portraits, Lindsay Lohan is stunning. The camera does something to her. Those pretty, delicate features fall into enthralling perfection. That tiny body, childlike in real life were it not for the voluptuous chest, snaps into a fine example of womanhood. Skin and hair all in tones of faded copper. Cinema/camera/mobile phone – La Lohan was made for every screen.