On Shopping for Clothes

When approached in shops I’m a “thanks, I’m just looking” man. A curious thing to say – does anyone go shopping just to look? – but it’s the easiest way to fend-off the unwanted attentions of ever-zealous shop assistants. Their job is to sell you things, so all attempts at lighthearted and convivial banter are doomed; you’re left waiting for the pleasantries and sly ingratiation to end and the sales assault to begin. It’s the same feeling when harangued with a breathless sob story about a lost wallet, you wish they’d cut to the chase and just ask for some money.

“Looking for another chambray?” I was asked whilst browsing in a shop last week. Convinced I didn’t own a ‘chambray’ anything, and intrigued by what being a chambray-wearer might imply, I replied “a what?” He was referring to my shirt. My few shirts (pictured below) which could forgivably be misdescribed as chambrays are, if we’re going to be strict about it, plain old denim. But any old fool knows denim. Referring to it as ‘chambray’ he meant to parade his expertise. I’m worried by this trend among high-street retailers to provide allegedly knowledgeable ‘stylists’ or ‘personal shoppers’. We’re led to believe they know something we don't, that they have a 'good eye', or maybe that they've undergone some sort of training that qualifies them to advise us on the merits of the 'off white' chino over the 'stone'. But the very idea of a shop assistant with questionable taste fobbing-off unwanted overstock by pretending it complements my skin tone is absurd and infuriating. I wonder how many people are lulled into a lavish spree and then in the hushed still of home, away from the frenzied compliments, swooning adoration and egging-on, look in the mirror and think not only what do I look like, but who?

My worst shop experience was in Reiss. I was paying for a pair trousers when the man behind the till said: “You need a shirt too”. If this was a command it was out of place. If a comment on the shirt I was wearing, it was insulting and unwarranted. I can’t remember how I replied (probably “no thank you”) but it was one of those remarks that grates the more you think about it. By evening I was apoplectic.