A word from the Editor: Why can't I be left alone to shop for my wife?

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Men are not trusted to shop for women's clothes - do we really look that stupid?

Played out like one of those death or glory scenes from a war movie it finds the hideously embarrassed priests desperately searching for a way out as they are confronted on every side by dangling bras and various items of hosiery. 

Eventually locating an exit Ted ushers his companions through as if they are embarking on a parachute drop: “Come on, lads, go, go, go!” 

It is a joke on the reserved and celibate nature of the priesthood but the peculiar awkwardness of it always pops back into my head whenever I find myself trying to buy clothes for my wife. 

I am not talking about lingerie, just straightforward things like tops, jackets, scarves and handbags.

Why do so many stores treat men in this situation in such a peculiar way? 

Are we seen as shoplifters or oddballs? Or are we simply regarded as too stupid to know what we’re doing?

I found myself, just before Christmas, on the almost deserted floor of a medium-sized department store in London. 

My wife had already instructed me not to buy her anything on the basis that whatever I picked out would most likely be reduced by 50 per cent days later such being the nature of things around this time of the year. 

But I do not like not having a decent present to give her on Christmas morning so I thought I would try to find a jacket she could wear with jeans. 

Within a minute or so of arriving a young, male shop assistant approached me and asked if he could help. 

“Oh, I’m just browsing,” I said because I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for. 

“What sort of thing are you after?” he said. 

I would have loved to pull a copy of the Oxford dictionary out of my pocket and shown him the definition of the word “browse” (to inspect items on display, casually), which rules out any firm shopping objectives. 

But he was not going away. 

“A jacket for my wife,” I said, reluctantly. 

“What sort of thing does she like?” he asked, rifling along a rail. 

“Oh, I’ll know it when I see it,” I said, thinking that might put him off but he was already lifting garments out for my inspection. 

At this point regarding myself as a reasonably polite sort I had only two choices: follow him around saying “yes” or “no” as he took me through the shop’s inventory of jackets, or say something lame and a bit sniffy like: “Actually, I’ve looked at them all and I think I might try another shop.” 

What I couldn’t do (and maybe braver blokes can) was say: “I’d just prefer to look on my own, if you don’t mind.” 

After all, he would say that he was just being helpful and a good salesman. 

PH

In an episode of Father Ted, the priests get stuck in the lingerie section of a department store

So I went with choice one and followed him around like a puppy and eventually bought a jacket that was OK but which my wife will probably take back. 

All the while I was envying the women customers around me who appeared to be allowed to do what I wanted to do: inspect items casually, entirely without any “helpful” interference from a shop assistant. 

I really do think that men in women’s shops are treated differently. We never quite seem to be trusted to look on our own. 

Are we seen as shoplifters or oddballs? Or are we simply regarded as too stupid to know what we’re doing? 

“Sorry, darling, I thought I’d bought you a coat but it seems this thing is actually a hat. Why couldn’t someone in the shop have told me?” 

Women friends of mine say they feel equally put upon by sales assistants in certain shops but I know that if I had been with my wife that salesman wouldn’t have come anywhere near me. 

As it is I think I was earmarked the moment I entered that sales floor and that male assistant, who may have even been the manager for all I know, dispatched just for me.  

Women friends also suggest I do what they do and shop for clothes online but that’s not shopping, it’s clicking. 

I love big shops, department stores in particular and long may they thrive on our high streets. 

But if the staff want to keep a close eye on things how about the rails that don’t have any of the popular sizes on them or annoyingly unstaffed pay desks or tables in the restaurant that have not been wiped or cleared of plates. 

Men need to be allowed to be equal-rights browsers. 

Just imagine if I had been a vicar trying to buy my wife a bra.

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