Dr Charlotte Proudman asks directly what I think of her hair these days. 'I think it's a good look. What do you think?' she says.

The temptation is to enquire, albeit in jest, if she'd ask a male journalist such a thing. He would surely sweat a bit if she did. Dr Proudman is, after all, a feminist campaigner who positively revels in calling people out (men, mostly) for being sexist clots, for saying inappropriate things, for shoring up the patriarchy with their everyday micro-acts of aggression.

Safe(r) in the Sisterhood, I find myself telling her that her hair is lovely, and the look is much more relaxed than when she had her famous take-no-prisoners bob, which was quite sexy-severe, no?

A man would be cancelled right now, surely, but she just ponders this. 'Do you think? Yeah, no, maybe. I was going more for 'sharp'. It was all in the fringe with that bob, but I couldn't be bothered with the upkeep. It needed a lot of trimming.'

Her hair now is long, blonde, carefree, but it turns out this is a feminist statement in itself.

Dr Charlotte Proudman (pictured) is a feminist campaigner who positively revels in calling people out (men, mostly) for being sexist clots, for saying inappropriate things, for shoring up the patriarchy with their everyday micro-acts of aggression, writes Jenny Johnston

'I don't even have to style it, just brush it. I do think I'd be taken more seriously in court with the bob. This is a more feminine look, which is actually, when you think about it, the opposite of how you'd expect a barrister to look. So it's breaking some of the norms associated with being in a masculine elitist institution.'

Gosh, it must be exhausting being Dr Proudman. Little wonder that she had no time for fringe maintenance.

It is eight years since this astonishing woman burst into public consciousness. Then 27, and a rookie barrister, she made headlines when she made public a screenshot of a message she had received from a much older, married, solicitor on LinkedIn, praising her stunning profile picture (complete with sharp bob).

Yes, it was a wholly inappropriate message to send on a professional platform. Even Alexander Carter-Silk, who sparked the controversy, said: 'I appreciate this is probably horrendously politically incorrect...', before blundering in. But her response was brutal. 'The eroticisation of women's physical appearance is a way of exercising power over women. It silences women's professional attributes as their physical appearance becomes the subject,' she said, when the silly sod had probably been expecting a simpering 'thank you'.

Then she advised Carter-Silk to 'think twice before sending another woman (half your age) such a sexist message'. Boom! Suddenly, everyone had an opinion on this audacious young woman.

Some cheered her bravery in laying bare rampant misogyny; others concluded that she was the dangerous little Missy here, turning a man's clumsy attempts at flattery into something akin to a hanging offence. Within the legal profession, there were raised eyebrows. She was warned, she says, that she was committing 'career suicide' by rocking the boat.

That turned out not to be the case. 'Although I really don't think it did my career any favours,' she says today. 'There were people who refused to give me work.'

Dr Proudman made headlines when she made public a screenshot of a message she had received from a much older, married, solicitor on LinkedIn, praising her stunning profile picture (complete with sharp bob)

The biggest legacy from those days? She was called a 'Feminazi' by this paper's Sarah Vine, which would have had most women hiding under the bed for the rest of their lives. Dr Proudman is not most women.

'Oh no, I have Sarah Vine to thank for that,' she beams. 'I should have had merchandising made.' Her friend did give her a mug with FEMINAZI emblazoned on it, which she still uses, proudly. Eight years on, and only 35, she's still rocking that boat: sometimes in ways that are indisputably laudable — she champions domestic abuse victims — sometimes in more contentious areas.

She has an astonishing ability to call out sexism in places where most of us never thought to look.

This week, she spied sexism on the hallowed lawn at her old Cambridge college, where she did her PhD in female genital mutilation.

She was at King's College for an exhibition to mark 50 years since the first female students had been admitted. Her portrait — in which she was wearing her barrister robes, but also a cropped top — had made her mum cry, in a good way. 'I was only the second person in my family to go to university,' she explains. Wasn't your mum bothered you had your midriff out? 'No. She was very proud and loved it.'

Afterwards, her cousin wanted to take photos of her on the lawn, which is a big deal at King's because undergraduates aren't allowed on the grass, yet certain senior members of the college are. She even checked with a friend 'before setting foot on the bloody lawn'.

While larking for the camera, however, she was yelled at by 'a young white male'. 'If they catch you, you'll be chucked out,' he shouted. She tweeted about this in outrage, accusing him of 'male entitlement'. Eh?

But boom, again! Another sexism row, with some praising another takedown of the patriarchy, but others accusing her of being a fruit-loop. How does she do it?

Actually, when you hear the full story, you have more sympathy for her position. She tells me that there had been others — 'middle-aged men' — on the lawn too, and they had not been challenged.

Her hair now is long, blonde, carefree, but it turns out this is a feminist statement in itself

'When it comes to these sorts of sexist micro-aggressions, I always ask myself: 'Would a man have been treated like that?' '

What to make of Dr Proudman? In conversation, she is softer and more compromising than her image suggests. She's funnier, too. On Twitter she can come across as humourless and far too in love with herself. 'Yes I do love myself,' she repeats today, but with a smile. 'I think women should love themselves more, don't you?'

She caused another Twitter storm recently by suggesting that new mothers should give their children their surname, celebrating the maternal line rather than automatically accepting the tradition of the patriarchy.

'This is something that has become more acute for me because I've seen in the family courts that many women have been coerced into giving their children the father's name.

'It does grate on me that my friends are getting married and having babies and even the ones who call themselves feminists are taking their husband's name, embracing this tradition which is rooted in patriarchy and ownership and property.'

Many women agree. A poll on Good Morning Britain this week suggested an almost even split, with 47 per cent of women questioned agreeing that their babies should have the maternal surname, which astonished even her.

Her views on marriage are bracing. No, she certainly will not be marrying her partner, whom she has been with since university, 'but maybe we'll consider a civil partnership, who knows'.

Will they have children, or is that none of my business?

'It's none of your business,' she says, before conceding that if they do, she'd quite like to combine the paternal and maternal surnames in a Brangelina-esque way.

There could be a touch of personal in the political in her interest in names. Proudman isn't her birth name. Until she was in her early 20s she was Charlotte Bailye. She took the surname of her maternal great-grandmother, who had been a Suffragette, in an act of 'respect for the maternal line'. 'I didn't want to see it die out. And it's a cool name.'

Her father died in a car crash when she was four. Hers was a family of strong women. Her mother, a teacher, was her biggest influence. 'Education was the thing with her. And she taught me to challenge authority, not to be cowed by it.'

Another huge influence was a teacher 'who looked like Pamela Anderson but was obsessed with Karl Marx. I thought she was amazing'. It was a working-class upbringing in Staffordshire, far removed from any hallowed grass. She did her first degree at Keele, so she could stay at home. She worked in the Co-op. Getting accepted to Bar School in London was exhilarating, but an eye-opener. 'People there didn't know where Staffordshire was. They commented on my accent, the way I said cook and look.'

She planned to be a solicitor, then saw a female barrister in action. 'She was amazing. Blonde hair, this amazing pink and grey suit, Louis Vuitton bag. She didn't take any c**p from the men. I thought: 'I can do that'. '

Over a decade on, does she have the Louis Vuitton bag? 'No. Only a fake, but I did recently buy my first Alexander McQueen suit. Big shoulders, statement-ey.'

She hates how she has to dress in court, would scrap the wigs and the ruffles. 'It harks back to a time when women weren't even allowed to be lawyers. I say we should make new traditions.'

Like what? Barristers in crop tops? 'No, but there should be room for individuality.'

The legal world is stuffy in more serious ways, she says, rife with sexism and misogyny.

Many men seem to hate Dr Proudman. There is a parody account of her on Twitter which is followed by learned colleagues from within the profession.

She claims she has been the subject of countless acts of sexism, and has put complaints in writing to the Bar Standards Board of more than 50 largely male barristers. 'And I still haven't even had a response, almost 12 months later, which tells you everything about how seriously I have been taken.'

'Just the other day a fellow barrister, who is also a (part-time) police officer, called me a 'w***er' on Twitter.

'If that was a layperson you could go 'here we go again' but this is a barrister, whom I could see in court. Some of this abuse is coming from part-time judges. I feel that in court some judges have tried to bully me. I won't stand for it. What's the alternative to speaking out? I wouldn't be much of an advocate if I was silent, would I? And if I can't speak out, who can?'

And yet she herself has been guilty of silence — arguably in a situation where she absolutely should have made a stand.

She relates the story of, just last year, confiding in an older male member of the Bar about her frustrations over how her complaints about bullying from other barristers were being ignored. This is a man, she points out, who was almost twice her age, married, with children older than she is. He had been a great friend, confidant, supporter for a decade.

'I was vulnerable, in tears. He said 'Oh sweetie' and stood up to give me a hug,' she explains. A hug turned into a grope, she alleges.

'He took the opportunity to place his hands on me. On my waist at first. Hmmm, but then they moved down to my buttocks.'

There is no room for misinterpretation here? 'I wish. But no, we know what it means. It was awful, and I'm ashamed of how I responded because I said nothing. Me, this feminist who speaks out. I made my excuses and left.'

They have not spoken since. What did you wish you'd said?

'I actually wish I'd slapped him,' she says. 'I should have said 'How dare you touch me in that way. I thought of you as a father figure'.

She is furious but says she won't report this or name the man.

'Can you imagine the consequences?', she says sadly.

Which just goes to show that even a 'Feminazi' feels as though she has her limits.