Middleagedmum.com: the changing room

I have finally worked out why I hate shopping. It isn't the browsing, or the fact I cant decide what I want, or I don't know what suits me, or even cost (well it often is that, but I try to avoid Margaret Howell and Marni if at all possible). I have more or less worked out my style (although I do stray now and then if PMT kicks in) and enjoy the challenge of putting outfits together and combining new buys with old favourites. I prefer shopping alone and really cannot bear a whole day shopping with an indecisive friend who wants my advice. Maybe its years and years of trawling round shops all over the world, but within five minutes of entering a shop I have sniffed out what I want and will be heading for the changing room. This is where is it all goes horribly wrong. 

I enter the changing room feeling optimistic, even a tiny bit excited. I thank God they are no longer those hideous huge communal affairs, even Top Shop now has individual cubicles. I am armed with a whole host of potential life enhancing garments and feeling good. I am hot, but not over heated and I start trying on the first garment. 

First I pull on the slim leg, beautiful wool trousers and start to feel despondent. That's not how I imagined they would look! If I lob off the customary six inches from the bottom, they will be more of a peg leg shape than a cigarette leg and that is not what I want! 
I move onto the 50's style dress, in my head I am seeing Anna Friel in Breakfast at Tiffany's, in the mirror I see Diana Doors in There's a girl in my soup'! 
I step outside to get a better look and am met with a twenty something wearing the same dress. She is at least six feet of waif like gorgeousness and I retreat back into the safety of my cubicle, telling myself she clearly has an eating disorder!!

Next is the Helmut Lang/Yojhi Yammamoto esque cleverly cut top. That's bound to look good. I pull it on with some difficulty, as it has all sorts of sections and I'm not quite sure where they are supposed to go. I finally get it on and it looks ok. At last, something that doesn't make me look like either Eddie from Ad Fab or a textile lecturer!! 

Ok, I'll have that, I think and begin to take it off. I pull and pull and seem to get myself entangled in the various designer layers. What the Hell is going on, I am now completely stuck and am having a small panic attack. I resist screaming 'someone help me, I am suffocating in a sea of wool jersey'!! 

I poke my head (well my head wrapped in layers of black fabric) out of the cubicle and hope there is an assistant near by. 'Excuse me', I whisper, 'could someone help me, please.' 

I make a mental note that from now on, I will always shop online!

Comments

[sue evans]

OOohh don't you just hate those changing room tangles with that garment that lookd like it might just fit. I had a near hysteria moment trying on the All Saints parachute dress. Well it looked forgiving on the hanger, all those drapey bits perfect for concealing lumps and bumps, but the lumps and bumps quickly turned into HUGE protrusions wedging me immobile with the dress halfway over my head. A nightmare on wheels never to be repeated .....
Sue

[Danielle]

gawd - the panic attack and adrenelin rush are kicking in just reading this.....so hideously true. I made a skirt at the weekend, rather nice emerald green with a bird print on and the only drama was remembering how to do the waistband (it's been a long time!) but no dressing room crisis...just me in my bedroom...quite a joy and free except for the cost of the zip (i already had the fabric)

[jane]

Glad i am not the only one who feels like this. Remember the days when you didn't even have to bother to try anything on. You just knew it would look good. Oh the joys of being young and skinny!!

[That's Not My Age]

Had a similar experience in Ghost this summer - not the head trapped in layers of jersey - the gorgeous young assistant was wearing a pair of the Minimalist leggings and looking pretty cool. Feeling inspired, I tried a pair on and felt like the back end of a pantomine horse. Needless to say I opted for another very flattering black dress instead. Ho hum...

[Francesca]

I have a rule that if it takes me more than 20 seconds to figure out how it goes on, it's a no. I have a train to catch in the morning and don't have time to deal with complicated layers and crossover systems.

[jane]

Actually All Saints are the worst culprits. Sometimes you can barely work out what the garment is, and its a huge risk when trying something on. It will either look totally hideous or be amazing. But personally I can't bear to even try!!