There I was, in the Alaia fitting room at Harvey Nicks, stressing out over not finding anything that fitted, despite having successfully acquired two pieces at Harrods just the day before. My stress had nothing to do with my shopaholicism withdrawal. Everything to do with the poor salesman who was trying his best to nail a sale (and presumably commission). I desperately wanted him to get something for his efforts. But I couldn’t make a dress that was a tad too long, just right (you can’t alter an Alaia..). And there was no way I could stretch my torso to fit a garment designed for someone 10 cm taller. But me being me, I kept trying – there must be something that works?! If not a dress, perhaps a skirt? But all my optimism (stubbornness? Fine line..) did was really just to prolong the agony for both of us. It’s like a couple knowing it’s not working but holding and holding onto the illusion until reality hit them in the head. When it did for me, and I eventually conceded defeat, it was one hour down the drain. The look on his face when I said, meekly, sorry, nothing seems to work.. Oh, that look… I wanted to say – it’s not you, its me… I felt bad as I scurried out of the store, reminding myself that there’s a reason I’m now an online shopper par excellence. There’s just too much emotion involved in real life shopping, no? The guilt, the desire to ingratiate, the reluctance to disappoint, the pressure (the not-so-subtle being the easiest to deal with and the imperceptible being the masterclass)… All of which leads to a potentially stressful experience when it ought to be joyful one, and a far higher risk of mis-spending.

Case in point. I was at the Gucci store in Central, Hong Kong, the week before I found myself in London. I really just wanted to buy a small handbag, from their beautiful beautiful Spring/Summer floral collection. As you know, HK sales assistants are the most effective in the world – the definition of masterclass. After I’ve picked the handbag, she swiftly convinced me I ought to consider a wallet with a different print from the same collection. Ok, I suppose it is quite adorable. How about our latest pret-a-porter collection, they just arrived and are really pretty? Pretty? Oh ok, let’s take a look. And so, 30 minutes later, I added a very cute butterfly embroidered skirt (meant probably for someone twenty years younger but that’s another story) and a pair of very gorgeous emerald green heels to the haul. As I walked out of the store with a huge paper bag that bears the same beautiful floral print of my handbag, I had my moment of truth – oops, I did it again… Don’t get me wrong, all of those items are beautiful. But would I have bought the a-tad-too-short skirt and the adorable-but-otherwise-quite-useless wallet as my cold rational online shopper self?

There was much doubt in the early days if women would buy clothes and shoes without touching and trying them. That debate is of course now history. If anything, men, known for their assassin approach to shopping – a clear target in mind, zero in, done and gone (allegedly) – have not quite embraced this most efficient mode of buying things. I wonder why. It’s so much quicker and easier, no? In the comfort of my grey sofa (it’s always this grey one I’m lying on right now), phone in hand, tap, tap, tap, pay. Two to three days later, the goodies arrive. I try them on in the comfort of my own dressing room. No queue, no hurry. And if something doesn’t fit or look good, then it doesn’t. There’s no one who is obviously conflicted in interests to sow any seeds of doubt. I fill in a form, someone collects it, I get a refund. No fuss, no guilt, no drama a la Alaia and no capitulation a la Gucci. Life is so much simpler..!

I know, I know, online shopping isn’t quite the same. You don’t see these beautiful things proudly on display, at their best. In a box, they are never quite the same, are they, even if it’s a pretty box with tissue-lined garment bags. There’s something unceremonious about being packed off like that, even if it is a Dolce & Gabbana or Stella McCartney. Nothing beats strolling through rows of exquisite dresses, smelling and feeling the fabrics. The fantasy, the experience. That’s it, online shopping lacks the experience. Shopping can no longer be an end in itself, it is more an effective mean to ownership. This change has propelled me to EIP (E for extremely…) status at one very popular online store but yes, I’m rapidly losing my VIP status at many bricks and mortar ones.

I admit I miss that experience component but dealing with the human drama is a price I’m increasingly unwilling and unable (no time!) to pay. I can’t help but wonder about the longer term implications though. I’m but one of a whole army of shoppers shifting online, and bricks and mortar shops are losing ground. The demise of these stores will drastically change the face of malls and high streets. Can we really imagine a mall or high street that is dominated by services – laundry, real estate agencies, banks – but no longer offers anything beautiful to look at, entirely devoid of fantasy?

Perhaps bricks and mortar stores will have to evolve – a showroom of sorts where merchandise gets checked out but with real transactions taking place online? Or perhaps they have to make shopping a more covetable experience to get shoppers like me out of our grey sofas and into their stores again. DSM (Dover Street Market) comes to mind. DSM is a concept store set up by Rei Kawakubo , the designers’ designer behind Commes de Garçon, that offers more than just a tightly edited selection of her own as well as others’ collections. It’s no longer at Dover Street by the way, it’s moved to Haymarket. You can eat there (I recently had my first Whole Earth Cola there – the organic version of Coke…), read the funky magazines there (I came across a most interesting article on Elon Musk while sipping my Cola) and browse the collections relatively undisturbed. The staff is too cool to care whether you buy anything. You get the feeling that if you don’t get the avant garde designs, they deem it your loss. It’s almost like they are so self confident of what they have that they don’t need you to open your Gucci wallets to endorse it. But if you need/want attention, you’ll get it. I didn’t buy a single thing as I ran out of time, but walked out totally guilt free, and determined to go back again.