Let me count the ways in which I hate department stores

(specifically utterly bloody Macy’s)

1) Too big. Way, way too big. This does not equal choice, this equals confusion.

2) Lack of service. Has commission been done away with here? Very, very short-sighted, especially when it’s my mother doing the shopping.

3) No signage. I may be a practiced shopper but I am not psychic, so don’t look at me like I am stupid when I can’t find the blooming knicker section. (I can’t believe the signs have been removed for security reasons. Surely Al Qaeda aren’t planning an attack on the underwear department in Macy’s?)

4) Trying to be all things to all people. History tells us you can’t please all of the people all the time. So don’t try. Aim for excellence not over-abundance.

5) Tourists. Specifically the ones that move in lemming like packs.

6) Assistants Who Know Best. If I have chosen to take 22 dresses into the fitting room, it’s because I have spent 30 minutes raking the floor for things I like. Please do not bring me dresses that bear no relation either to the pieces I have already picked, or to the clothes I was wearing when I was arrived. This is not imaginative. It is bloody annoying. Surely any fool, let alone someone who works on a fashion floor, can see that a girl with a large bust can’t possibly wear a plunging to the waist neckline without looking like she is solicting for custom?

7) Apart from the fact that Intimate Apparel sounds like a department in a porn shop, I am at a loss to understand how, in a nation with so many obese people, they only seem to sell a selection of thongs in rainbow colours, and bras up to a Double D cup. Not even vaguely in my ball park.