The perfect fit

She hovered at the entrance like a small child, unsure of a first day at school, knowing that behind the glass doors opened up a new world that all must enter inevitably, but each doing so with their own undefined but individualised personalities, their small minds already tainted with ideals from home rearing and social environments, each tapping into their own impressionable personalities and bringing it to the classroom.

The shrill bell of the shop door made her jump, the markings of a clearly defined line between the bustling busy street, the fresh autumn winds which carried her to this unassuming shop, to the warm and cosy glow of what lay ahead, for it was time to choose her outfit.

Armed with carefully considered criteria she stepped though the doors, shuddering at the sight that lay before her: coats, jackets, raincoats, anoraks, smart, casual, hooded coats, three quarter length woollens, cotton waisted, long skirts, short skirts, dresses in every colour, style and material imaginable, blouses, tops, three quarter sleeves and long. She was torn between squeezing her eyes  tightly shut to block out the images which lay before her endeavouring to add confusion to her well defined shopping list and wanting to reach out and touch each fabric, each style, each price tag questioning her ability to see the conviction in her original shopping list.

Taking a deep breath she slowly walked towards the first rack of clothes that caught her eye, the bright colours reflecting on her face as she approached the dress she thought looked good.
‘Can I help you?’ the shop assistant asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Although she knew exactly what she was looking for, the insurmountable choice was going to have to be whittled down by the assistant to avoid time wasting and the mid-day rush from other customers, some of whom would no doubt be wishing to purchase similar styles and designs as herself.

After describing the wish list of her new outfit, including price range and colour, the assistant began her interrogation: what are her measurements, what is her price range, has she bought from this shop before, why was she shopping alone?

Questions, questions, questions. Were they really all necessary? She knew what she wanted and began thinking she could have saved much time perhaps shopping online but her thoughts were interrupted by the assistant tapping her long nails across the hangers of each item before coming to an abrupt halt at a dark blue three quarter length dress with matching belt. It was an unusual colour and not a material she herself would have first chosen but she put her trust in the assistant who carefully lifted the dress from the rack and placed over her arm, leading her to the cubicle where her first shopping experience was to begin.

She looked around cautiously before entering the room – no need for others to see her changing she was relieved to see the changing rooms were sparse of people she was familiar. Nothing worse than bumping into others she knew, she thought, no doubt their looks alone may influence her decision and for now, she wanted a few moments alone, to try the dress for size and form her own opinion first.

Although the main hub of the shop was filled with light and warmth, the security of her large duffel coat was gone, removed in order to place the dress over her head sending a shiver down her spine, the unfamiliarity of the new fabric against her white top, and the anticipation rising within her - was this the dress she wished to purchase?

It seemed to fit nicely – it looked smart against the crispness of her own white top which she brought from home and even brought out the colour of her eyes. Scrutinising the sight she saw before her, she began ticking off the wishes on her list one by one – it was within her price range, it was very versatile definitely wearable for different seasons and occasions but …what was it? What was stopping her from running to the till and purchasing this item right then and there?

Looking down she saw she would have to get shoes to match – it wouldn’t look right without them. It wasn’t a necessity but she began to wonder – If I need shoes as well, is it really worth it – it’s not completely perfect and if there’s nothing in my shoe collection at home that will match this dress I’ll have to spend more time to work on getting shoes to match. I could dye a pair I already have as it’s not that important, but if I’m already having doubts about it, then why bother – there are plenty more outfits out there, so I’ll just pick again. I know there is one right for me, as the designer knows her stuff and makes outfits for each person’s individual style, so I know there is one for me. It’s just not this one.

Besides, she didn’t get that feeling. When you put on a special outfit, you want to know this is it. I know this is the right one, you know it.

Placing the dress back on the hanger, a small disappointment rose from the pit of her stomach. Was this not the right shop for her? Was she doing the right thing putting it back on the rack for someone else to take five minutes later, seeing them walking down the street with the shimmery dark blue material swishing as they walked,  thinking that it could have been her receiving those admiring glances from passersby at the new purchase.

Who was to know?

Leaving the changing room consumed with doubts to leave it or take it to the till, she was jolted back to reality by the long queue in front of her at customer service. Scanning the line she could see distressed faces ahead of her, each holding their own item they wished to return to the store, each with a different story to explain to the cashier.
The garment was faulty but only became apparent when customer took it home. It ripped when it was tried on again by an overzealous customer. It looked good in the glare of the bright shop lights, but when tried on again at home, it didn’t look the same and wanted a refund. Or just plain and simple - it wasn’t liked anymore. What changed? The customer? The circumstance for wanting it? The need? Was a different outfit more appropriate but was only discovered from experimenting with others first?

Some were fortunate enough to see their need to return to the store in time and received vouchers, could exchange or even get their money back. But for others, it was too late. Too much time had passed – it had been worn too many times. The disappointment that they could not return their goods but would have to live with them in the back of their wardrobe became too much for some – the pain was apparent in their eyes. An opportunity they once had to change things earlier, to shop carefully and concisely rather purchasing hastily in the rush of the sales was in the forefront of their minds.

But all was not lost, for they can put their garments to the back of their wardrobes or give it up for some one else, bringing its thought to surface as reminders when necessary in finding a new outfit.

Chosen by the shop assistant, purchased by the buyer but ultimately, produced by the designer who knows best about each individual customer, their attention to detail paramount. Once decided, it’s the care we give to ourselves and the garment which makes it last, she thought.

It was all meant to be she thought with a wry smile and she placed the hanger back on the rack and walked back out into the gusty wind of the busy street. One day she will find the perfect fit. 

Anonymous