When I met Roya at an Islamic conference in Tehran 11 years ago, she was a convinced revolutionary. But she felt embarrassed when officials running the conference objected to the mid-calf black dress I was wearing.
My black socks were too transparent, they said, and my ankles were showing. In a pique, I bought the ugliest, sack-like black manteau - Iranians adopted the French word for this version of the chador - I could find, and I still wear it here.
Roya thought it was wrong that anyone should tell a foreign journalist how to dress, but she was sure of her own taste - I'll never forget her emphatic declaration: "I love my chador".
Before the revolution, she explained, she tried to enter the Intercontinental Hotel in Tehran in a chador and was prevented from doing so by the Shah's police. The chador was her badge of faith and defiance.
My friend was 18 when the Shah fell and Ayatollah Khomeini returned from exile in 1979. Over the years I have watched her - and the revolution - move from dogmatic idealism to faltering faith and self-doubt.
When Roya met me a few days ago at Mehrabad Airport, she was wearing high-heeled boots and a stylish trouser suit with a wool cape from Paris. Not a hint of the once-loved chador.
When I asked Roya about the transformation of her hijab (Islamic covering), she instead told me of the changes in her own life. Back in the 1980s, she said, "I was very happy with myself, because I believed in the revolution". But in the 1990s she began to ask questions. "The war with Iraq was over, so the government had no more excuses. Why didn't our economy improve? Why did the government still control our radio and television? I started thinking about all the things you have in the West, and wondering why we couldn't have them."
Harassment by the "Islamic" vigilante komiteh added to Roya's disillusionment. In the mid-1990s, she was turned around on her way to Darband, a mountain area where young couples like to go climbing. Her sister and a young man were arrested for meeting in a public park at mid-day to talk. "I realised that these things had nothing to do with Islam," Roya says.
Iranians have a strong sense of personal dignity, and Roya is no exception. When she travelled abroad with her husband, a businessman, customs and immigration officials were rude when they saw her Iranian passport. "I was insulted outside the country and I was insulted inside the country - and I helped make this revolution to have respect."
The mullahs have taught their people "to make all the world Muslim and to serve Islam", Roya says. But somewhere along the line, she rebelled. "Religion should help you have a better life," she says. "I wasn't born to serve Islam. What about my wishes, my youth?"
When Roya and her husband discuss visiting Europe, she tells him she would like to travel without her hijab. "I am tired of being different," she says. "I want to retire. For a while, I stopped praying. My husband was very worried. I started praying again, because it was less hassle. But I'm not praying like before, and I feel hypocritical."
Although hijab is still obligatory in Iran, attitudes towards it are changing. The sculptress and university professor Zahra Rahnavard wrote in a recent newspaper article that Iranian women suffer from a high rate of osteoporosis because so little sunshine reaches their skin. She said that dark colours cause depression, and urged women to wear bright colours, so that society will grow accustomed to it.
Roya took me to her favourite manteau shop, "Diana" in Haftetir Street, so I could see the latest styles. A saleswoman named Minoo proudly showed us coats with satin cuffs and collars and guepiere lace trim. There were manteaux with gold or silver embroidery, rhinestone and gold buttons for evening. A blue and white pin-striped version imitated a man's business suit. The fashions are cut much closer to the body and safari suit-like models with four pockets are very popular, Minoo said. So are the thigh-length jackets which younger women wear over trousers. "You would never have got away with this 10 years ago," Minoo said. "They had to ease up, because women wouldn't take it anymore. It's been much freer since President Khatami was elected (in May 1997)."
Hijab rules are based on verse 31, surah 24 of the Koran: "And tell the believing women to lower their gaze and be modest, and to display of their adornment only that which is apparent, and to draw their veils over their bosoms, and not to reveal their adornment save to their own husbands . . ." God willing, Minoo told me, hijab rules may one day be abolished.
Roya has heard rumours that some progressive mullahs advocate making it optional. "Maybe we will lose it little by little", she says. "The first step is wearing dresses instead of manteaux, and bright colours."
I would have expected Roya, now 40, to be happy at the changes sweeping Iran. But she, like much of the population, has lost her bearings. "I was happier then," she says of her youth. "I was so sure of everything, and I had so much hope. Now I feel middle-aged - and confused."
