As the weekend approached I was hit with the inevitable crisis all women dread. The unexplained phenomenon that befalls us all at some point, usually at a pivotal moment in our lives. Despite 1 large wardrobe (with 2 shelves) 5 very roomy drawers and 2 suitcases over flowing under the bed I find I have nothing to wear. Nothing. Nada. Not a stitch. It's a modern mystery that baffles us all. I'm not even sure how I have gotten in to this situation. Shopping is my secret addiction, how could this have happened? So with my credit cards sobbing in the Vivienne Westwood, I resigned myself to the fact I would have to go shopping. So off I went, now we all know that tingle of anticipation as we drive off to our favourite shops, day dreaming of the perfect bargain, hoping to find that one ideal item that will instantly make you thinner and more stylish. For me it's the moment you see the display windows, an array of outfits displayed to inspire and delight, an ideal opportunity to see sample colours and styles you wouldn’t normally consider. So it’s with great enthusiasm that I waltzed into the first shop, expectations sky high and money burning a hole in the pockets of my 7 for AllManKinds. I quickly set about piling my arms high with gorgeous dresses, fabulous skirts and glam tops. Next stop the changing rooms, which is where I encountered the first obstacle. Ladies we have all been there, arms piled high with beautiful finds, only to be told by the bored looking assistant- 'you can only take 6 items in at once'. What?! Seriously?! How am I going to see what tops and bottoms look like together? With sizes being so variable from shop to shop I need to have a least one of every size to see which fits best! It was scarily obvious from her bored expression and perfectly shaped arched eyebrow, she really didn’t care about my protest. So instead it was a hot shoe shuffle (for me) trying pieces on and passing them back forth to her to ensure that I never had more than 6 items in the cubicle with me. This brings up the next issue. Changing rooms. Clearly designed by a man or possibly a narcissistic woman. Who knows? Whoever it was obviously hates women and shopping. Firstly there is a space issue, who can get changed in that tiny (usually filthy) little cubicle? A Borrower maybe? If you’re lucky there may be a chair or stool to rest on but mostly it’s just you in a 1meter square box, the 6 items you were allowed and the mirror. Yep, the mother of all evils is the changing room mirror. Another item obviously designed as an item of torture. It is only in a changing room mirror that your thighs can wobble more than a turkey’s neck, your skin looks like your thirteen again and cellulite appears on the tops of your arms (I kid you not, this really happened to me!). By now it’s starting to get hot, the lights are too harsh, a queue is growing outside the changing room and stress levels are rising. Meanwhile Little Miss ‘6 Items Only’ is chatting away to her mate about last night’s antics, leaving you stranded in your underwear awaiting the next 6 items. Through gritted teeth I managed to politely ask if she could pass me the clothes, reluctant to be dragged away from her conversation, she rolled her eyes and passed me the clothes. With that ladies, I have to admit I was ready to abandon ship and admit defeat. Only the pressure of having nothing to wear kept me going. Eventually I broke free from the bad lights, evil mirrors and overheating, having selected a few items from the pile and made my way to pay. As I escaped into the fresh air, a crisp new carrier bag swinging on my arm, the familiar buzz of excitement starts to creep over. The euphoria of having found an outfit and survived the changing rooms trauma all becomes too much and a Starbucks appear to be the only way forward before round two, shoe shopping, can commence.
Interestingly in April this year Marie Claire magazine and the New York Times both published articles that stated that according to a recent study 75% of all female shoppers suffer from Changing Room Rage (CRR) during shopping trips. But is this really that surprising? Between the bad lighting, cruel mirrors, poor customer service and being crammed into an overheated tiny space can retailers really blame us? For most women shopping is treat, a few hours of escapism and an opportunity to feel good about ourselves. All this is ruined when we are faced with the disappointment of the changing room experience. So for the most part I will be joining the 21st century and internet shopping from now on, safe in the knowledge I can try things on in my own bedroom, where the mirrors and lighting are just a little bit more forgiving! xX
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