Look, I remember when my friend Sarah told me I should give the John Lewis personal shopping service a shot for my college friend’s wedding, I laughed. Me? Personal shopping? I’m the girl who thinks it’s a successful shopping trip if I can find a nice blazer at Zara for less than $40. Having someone lead me around a department store was basically admitting I’ve lost all faith in my ability to create my own sense of style.
Plus, let’s be honest – I’ve always thought John Lewis is the kind of place my mom dragged me to as a kid to get “practical” school clothes – you know, the type of clothing that will last forever but looks like it belongs in your grandma’s closet. I envisioned myself being styled into some flowery midi dress with a matching cardigan – the kind of outfit that screams “I have strong feelings about proper table settings,” instead of “I spent last weekend thrift-store shopping for vintage band tees.”
Sarah has this annoying talent for being correct about the whole fashion scene. She can put together a random thrift store find with jeans and somehow manage to look effortlessly cool, while I am over here agonizing over how to make a simple outfit look intentional. When Sarah insists that something is worth trying, I have learned to listen, even if my immediate reaction is a mix of skepticism and panic.
To me, the concept of personal shopping seemed very…fancy. Like it’s something for people who have so many extra dollars that they can afford to play around with expensive items just for kicks. That is definitely not me — when I buy something, I want to know it will work with at least three other items in my closet, and I will actually wear it more than once. The idea of having someone pull out a ton of expensive items I may not even like, seemed daunting, rather than helpful.
Yet, I made an appointment at the Peter Jones location in Chelsea, mostly because Sarah said she would book it for herself if I did not.
Upon arriving at the store, I walked in prepared for the worst — some ultra-chic woman who would look at my Target jeans and thrift-store jacket and instantly begin plotting out a total fashion transformation for me.
Instead, I met Caroline, a woman in her mid-fifties, who wore exactly the kind of outfit I wish I could pull off – simple black trousers, a really interesting navy shirt with awesome sleeves, and these beautiful-but-would-be-okay-to-wear-all-day loafers. There were no obvious designer labels; however, every piece of clothing appeared to be well-crafted and thoughtfully designed. She reminded me of the cool art teacher everyone wishes they had in high school.
The personal shopping area itself was far better than I imagined. Rather than feeling like I was being judged under the harsh lights of a department store, it was this quiet space with nice mirrors, sufficient lighting, and – I kid you not – a small fridge stocked with water and teeny bottles of Prosecco. “If we find something we love,” Caroline said, “we’ll pop those open.” At that point, I decided I liked her.
Prior to starting the process of picking out clothes, Caroline asked me questions that truly mattered. She wasn’t asking the typical questions such as size, or what occasion the event was for. She was asking about my personal style. Which outfits make me feel most confident? What colours do I actually wear versus what people tell me I should wear? She asked about my job, where the wedding was located (a converted barn in the Cotswolds), and whether I’d be driving or taking the train – which she said mattered in determining the fabric types she would use so they wouldn’t wrinkle. Honestly, that level of practicality impressed me more than any amount of fashion knowledge could have.
When I mentioned my budget for the entire outfit, including shoes, was $300, there was no awkward pause or attempt to try to sell me higher-priced items. She simply nodded and said, “Great, now we have plenty of choices to pick from.” I was relieved, to say the least – I had worried about that moment for weeks prior to booking the appointment.
Caroline went away for about 15 minutes, leaving me to scroll through Instagram and try to listen in on what sounded like a much more energetic session occurring in the adjacent room. Upon returning, she was pushing a rack full of clothing options – some of which I would have certainly picked myself, while others I would have never even stopped to look at in the store.
“I’ve narrowed it down to some of the safer options based on what you described earlier, and a few wild cards that I think might surprise you,” she said. “Sometimes the best finds are the ones you would never normally consider buying yourself.”
What followed was honestly the most enjoyable shopping experience I have had as an adult. Caroline was attentive, but not suffocating. She provided constructive criticism without making me feel ashamed of anything. And most importantly, she seemed truly enthusiastic about helping me find something that fit.
It was like shopping with that one friend who actually cares about what you’re doing, and provides actual input, but also happens to know where everything is and has already vetted all the options.
First, she had me try on a deep green jumpsuit. A colour I mentioned I liked, but never actually wear because I was unsure if it suited me. She paired it with gold block heel sandals and a simple clutch. As I exited the dressing room, feeling somewhat absurd (jumpsuits always make me feel like I’m costuming as someone more polished) she quickly began adjusting things. Rolled the sleeves a bit, adjusted the belt a little, and suddenly it was actually an outfit I might select.
“Absolutely a contender,” she said, jotting down notes on her tablet. “However, we need to see all of our options before we commit.”
Next, she had me try on a fantastic slip dress with a blazer that made me feel like a 1990s minimalist. Then wide leg pants with a one-shouldered top that somehow combined formality and coolness. Finally, this fantastic midi dress with a print that I thought was awful on the mannequin but actually looked fine on me. Every single outfit felt thought-out, not just randomly assembled.
The biggest surprise came with this rust colored wrap dress I had originally intended to pass on. I have always steered clear of wrap dresses because they remind me of dressing up in grown-up clothes, even though I am 32 and technically an adult. However, Caroline insisted I just try it on, and as soon as I slipped it on, I experienced one of those infrequent “oh” moments where everything comes together.
The colour brought out the green in my eyes. The cut flattered my body without making it obvious. And the overall aesthetic was suitable for a country wedding yet looked like something I would actually elect to wear. Instead of the strappy sandals I had anticipated, Caroline recommended these suede ankle boots and added a leather jacket that transformed the look from “conventionally dressed wedding guest” to “stylish person attending a wedding.”
As the final flourish, she accessorized me with these sculptural brass earrings from one of the smaller designer sections – unique enough to provide personality, but not so bold that they would detract from the dress. The entire ensemble came to £275, below my budget but looked far more expensive than anything I typically purchase.
I know this is probably sounding like I’m writing this because I’m being compensated – I swear I’m not. I genuinely expected to write about how the personal shopping experience attempted to morph me into someone who wears fascinators and knows about proper handbag etiquette. Instead, I finally understood what the service is intended to accomplish.
The benefit isn’t having someone tell you what to wear – it’s having someone who has an intimate familiarity with the store narrow down the countless number of options to something that makes sense. For years I have developed my own sense of style through trial and error (with a lot of costly errors). Consequently, I have developed some bizarre psychological blocks regarding specific styles or colours due to arbitrary rules I created along the way. Caroline did not have those preconceived notions – she simply evaluated what worked on my body and matched my personality.
Another major advantage was how efficient the experience was. In two hours, I tried on a much larger number of carefully curated items than I could have possibly found in a day of aimlessly roaming the store. There was no time-consuming browsing, no distractions caused by adorable but unneeded items, and no settling for “good enough” because I was exhausted from searching. Instead, I received focused attention from someone whose primary function is knowing what exists in the store and what will likely work for their customers.
Perhaps the most shocking aspect of the experience was never feeling pressured to buy anything. When I couldn’t decide between the rust dress and the jumpsuit, Caroline suggested I photograph both, leave for a cup of coffee, and return if I wanted either. The absence of any sales pressure actually made me more likely to purchase – that and genuinely enjoying the products she had discovered.
I left with the dress, boots, earrings, and a whole new view on a service I had previously dismissed as something that would never be applicable to someone like me. What I realised is that good personal shopping isn’t about forcing someone else’s vision onto you – it’s about identifying the absolute best expression of your current style within the realm of what is actually available and affordable.
In the months since then, I have returned twice. The first time was when I realised most of my professional attire had inexplicably shrunk during lockdown (definitely the clothes’ fault and not mine), and I needed new office-friendly clothes. The second time was with my mother, who required a new outfit for my cousin’s college graduation. Both times with Caroline, both times with the same excellent experience. My mother, who was initially doubtful about being styled by “someone who will not understand how to make clothes that will appeal to women my age,” ultimately purchased an outfit she continues to wear frequently and receives numerous compliments on.
By the way, the rust dress was perfect for the wedding. I received more genuine compliments on that outfit than I have on any outfit I have worn recently, including from stylish friend Sarah, who promptly scheduled her own appointment with Caroline. The leather jacket worked for the ceremony and the evening reception. The boots were comfortable enough for dancing late into the night. And I continue to incorporate individual elements of the outfit into various ensembles – dress with sneakers for professional events, boots with jeans all the time, etc., etc.
Here is my public service announcement: Personal shopping at John Lewis is NOT what you think it is. It is NOT intimidating. It is NOT snobby. And it is certainly NOT just for individuals with unlimited funds or no personal style. It is actually one of the most logical fashion-related services I have used – essentially, having a knowledgeable friend who knows exactly where everything is in the enormous store, and has no ulterior motives beyond helping you discover something wonderful.
And the greatest feature of all? This is a service that is completely free. You don’t owe them a penny. Although, as evidenced by my experience and every person I have encouraged to try it, you will likely end up buying something. However, honestly? That’s Caroline’s fault for being so great at her job.
