I Tried Personal Shopping at John Lewis and My Broke Self Was Actually Shocked

Look, when my friend Sarah suggested I try the personal shopping service at John Lewis for my college friend’s wedding, I literally laughed out loud. Me? Personal shopping? I‘m the girl who considers it a successful shopping trip if I find a decent blazer at Zara for under forty bucks. The idea of having someone guide me around a department store felt like admitting I‘d given up on my own taste entirely.

Plus, honestly, John Lewis always felt like where my mom would drag me as a kid to buy “sensible” school clothes – you know, the kind of practical pieces that would last forever but make you look like you raided your grandmother’s closet. I had visions of being styled into some floral midi dress with matching cardigan, the kind of outfit that screams “I have opinions about proper table settings” rather than “I spent last weekend thrifting vintage band tees.”

But Sarah has this annoying habit of being right about fashion stuff. She’s one of those people who can throw on a random thrift store find with jeans and somehow look effortlessly put-together, while I‘m over here spending twenty minutes trying to make a basic outfit look intentional. When she insists something’s worth trying, I‘ve learned to listen, even when my initial reaction is skepticism mixed with mild panic.

I mean, the whole concept of personal shopping felt so… fancy? Like something for people who have enough disposable income to experiment with expensive pieces just for fun. That’s definitely not me – when I buy something, I need to know it’s going to work with at least three other things in my closet and that I‘ll actually wear it more than once. The idea of having someone pull a bunch of expensive options I might not even like seemed stressful rather than helpful.

Still, I booked an appointment at the Peter Jones branch in Chelsea, mostly because Sarah threatened to do it for me if I didn’t. Walking in on that Tuesday afternoon, I was prepared for the worst – some impossibly chic woman who’d take one look at my Target jeans and thrift store jacket and immediately start planning my complete fashion overhaul.

Instead, I met Caroline, who was probably in her fifties and wearing exactly the kind of outfit I‘d love to pull off – simple black trousers, a really interesting navy shirt with cool sleeves, and these amazing-but-comfortable-looking loafers. No obvious designer logos, but everything looked well-made and thoughtful. She reminded me of the cool art teacher everyone wished they’d had in high school.

The personal shopping room itself was way nicer than I expected. Instead of feeling like I was being judged under fluorescent department store lighting, it was this private space with good mirrors, decent lighting, and – I kid you not – a mini fridge with water and tiny bottles of prosecco. “We’ll crack those open if we find something amazing,” Caroline said, and I immediately decided I liked her.

Before we started pulling clothes, Caroline asked me questions that actually made sense. Not just the obvious stuff like size and what the event was, but real questions about my personal style. What outfits make me feel most confident? What colors do I actually wear versus what people tell me I should wear? She asked about my job, where the wedding was happening (a converted barn in the Cotswolds), whether I‘d be driving or taking the train – which she said mattered for choosing fabrics that wouldn’t wrinkle. Honestly, that level of practical thinking impressed me more than any fashion knowledge could have.

When I mentioned my budget was £300 total for the whole look including shoes, there was no awkward pause or attempt to push me higher. She just nodded and said, “Perfect, that gives us lots of options.” The relief was honestly massive – I‘d been worried about that moment the entire week leading up to the appointment.

Caroline disappeared for about fifteen minutes while I sat there scrolling Instagram and trying to eavesdrop on what sounded like a much more enthusiastic session happening in the next room. When she came back, she was pushing this rail absolutely packed with options – some things I definitely would have picked myself, others I wouldn’t have looked at twice walking through the store.

“I‘ve pulled some safe bets based on what you described, and a few wildcards I think might surprise you,” she explained. “Sometimes the best finds are the things you’d never try on your own.”

What happened next was honestly the most enjoyable shopping experience I‘ve had as an adult. Caroline was attentive without being overwhelming, gave honest feedback without making me feel bad about anything, and seemed genuinely excited about finding something that would work. It was like shopping with that friend who actually pays attention and gives useful opinions, except she also knew where everything was and had already done the hard work of narrowing down options.

The first thing she had me try was this jumpsuit in deep green – a color I‘d mentioned liking but never actually wearing because I wasn’t sure it worked on me. She paired it with gold block heel sandals and a simple clutch, and when I came out of the changing area feeling slightly ridiculous (jumpsuits always make me feel like I‘m cosplaying as someone more put-together), she immediately started adjusting things. Rolled the sleeves slightly, repositioned the belt, and suddenly it actually looked like an outfit I might choose.

“Definitely a possibility,” she said, making notes on her tablet. “But let’s try everything before we decide anything.”

She had me try on this amazing slip dress with a blazer that made me feel like a 90s minimalist, wide-leg pants with a one-shoulder top that somehow managed to look both formal and cool, and this midi dress in a print that looked terrible on the hanger but actually worked on. Each outfit felt thoughtful rather than random, like she’d actually considered what might suit my body and personality rather than just pulling popular pieces.

The real surprise came with this rust-colored wrap dress that I initially wanted to skip entirely. I‘ve always avoided wrap dresses because they make me feel like I‘m playing dress-up in grown-up clothes, even though I‘m thirty-two and theoretically an actual adult. But Caroline insisted I just try it, and the second I put it on, I had one of those rare “oh” moments where everything just clicks.

The color made my eyes look greener, the cut was flattering without being obvious about it, and it somehow looked appropriate for a countryside wedding while still feeling like something I‘d actually choose to wear. Instead of the strappy sandals I expected, Caroline suggested these suede ankle boots and added a leather jacket that completely changed the vibe from “conventional wedding guest” to “person who just happens to be stylishly dressed at a wedding.”

The finishing touch was these sculptural brass earrings from one of the smaller designer sections – interesting enough to add personality but not so statement-y that they’d compete with the dress. The whole outfit came to £275, under budget but looking way more expensive than anything I usually buy.

I know this probably sounds like I‘m being paid to write this – I‘m not, I promise. I genuinely expected to write about how the personal shopping experience tried to transform me into someone who wears fascinator hats and knows about proper handbag etiquette. Instead, I found myself actually understanding what the service is supposed to do.

The value isn’t having someone tell you what to wear – it’s having someone who knows the store inside out narrow down the overwhelming number of options based on actual expertise. After years of developing my own style mostly through trial and error (and lots of expensive mistakes), I‘ve built up weird mental blocks about certain cuts or colors based on arbitrary rules I picked up somewhere. Caroline didn’t have those preconceptions – she just looked at what actually worked on my body and matched my personality.

The efficiency factor was huge too. In two hours, I tried on more carefully selected pieces than I could have found in an entire day of wandering around by myself. No aimless browsing, no getting distracted by cute but impractical things I didn’t need, no settling for “close enough” because I was too tired to keep looking. Just focused attention from someone whose job is literally knowing what’s available and what might work.

Maybe the most surprising part was never feeling pressured to buy anything. When I couldn’t decide between the rust dress and the jumpsuit, Caroline suggested I take photos of both, go grab coffee, and come back later if I wanted either. That complete lack of sales pressure actually made me more likely to purchase – that and genuinely loving what she’d found.

I left with the dress, boots, earrings, and a completely different perspective on a service I‘d written off as not being for someone like me. What I realized is that good personal shopping isn’t about imposing someone else’s vision – it’s about finding the best version of your existing style within what’s actually available and affordable.

Since then, I‘ve been back twice. Once when I needed work clothes after realizing most of my office-appropriate stuff had mysteriously shrunk during lockdown (definitely the clothes’ fault, not mine), and once with my mom who needed an outfit for my cousin’s college graduation. Both times with Caroline, both times equally positive experiences. My mom, who was initially skeptical about being styled by “someone who won’t understand what works for women my age,” ended up with an outfit she’s worn repeatedly and gotten tons of compliments on.

The rust dress, by the way, was perfect for the wedding. I got more genuine compliments on that outfit than anything I‘ve worn in recent memory, including from stylish friend Sarah, who immediately booked her own appointment with Caroline. The leather jacket worked for the ceremony and evening reception, the boots were comfortable enough for dancing until late, and I‘ve worn pieces from the outfit in different combinations ever since – dress with sneakers for work events, boots with jeans constantly, earrings with everything.

So here’s my PSA: personal shopping at John Lewis isn’t what you think it is. It’s not intimidating, it’s not stuffy, and it’s definitely not just for people with unlimited budgets or no personal style. It’s actually one of the most practical fashion services I‘ve tried – like having a knowledgeable friend who happens to know exactly where everything is in a massive store and has no agenda beyond helping you find something great.

The best part? Unlike most personal shopping services that have minimum spend requirements that made my broke self break out in cold sweats, John Lewis offers it completely free. You’re not obligated to buy anything, though based on my experience and everyone I‘ve convinced to try it since, you probably will end up purchasing something. But honestly? That’s Caroline’s fault for being so good at her job.