The location was King Street in Manchester, where a luxury designer store had just arrived in the city.
It was the late 1990s and I was 19 years old. Grunge was still popular, but I had ditched my usual outfit of boots, floral skirt, and green Oasis cardigan in favor of something more elegant. That’s how badly I wanted to enter these four walls.
They sold a bag that I had hanging on a bulletin board in my room. Kate Moss had it. This also applied to all the other celebrities I admired. It was actually very simple – a kind of travel bag, but made of the softest calf leather and with a tiny gold clasp.
I just wanted to see what it would look like in the crook of my arm, and of course find out the price…so I could figure out how many lifetimes it would take to save up and buy it.
The first thing I did wrong was my entrance. I tried to push the door open and found it locked. The result was that I somehow stumbled into the glass.
Farrah Storr recalls being guided to the nearest sofa by a saleswoman and then having to wait 25 minutes while she served someone better dressed (stock photo)
The saleswoman, a woman only a few years older than me, looked at me without moving a single facial muscle and then lowered her head.
I didn’t wait more than two or three minutes before she finally opened the door, but it might as well have been an hour.
However, once we were inside, there didn’t seem to be any real stock in the workshop. So I walked very, very slowly around the room, feigning interest in a single scarf on the wall.
When she finally asked me if I was looking for something “special,” a term that still makes me nervous today, I hesitantly mentioned “the bag.”
I felt like an intruder in a foreign land
“I was wondering if I could see it in black?” I whispered.
As the words came out of my mouth, I suddenly sounded like Joanna Lumley. She smiled.
“I’m afraid we only have one in stock,” she said, pointing to an orange one in the window that she clearly didn’t want to take out.
I continued. Yes, but was it in black? And if so, when would they stock more?
If I was an intruder in a foreign land when I first walked in, I felt like public enemy number one in that moment as she carefully explained to me that there was a waiting list of up to a year for such a bag, and even then there was none guarantee that you will receive the color you want.
“Shall I put your name in?” she asked. I said no and scurried out.
The perception of being hard to get is so important that high-end brands like Gucci, Brunello Cucinelli and Chanel reserve special services only for those who spend big (stock image)
So do you have to be the devil to sell Prada? (Actually, Prada is one of those brands where the staff is really welcoming.)
The research seems to suggest so – a study by psychologists published in the Journal of Retailing and Consumer Services found that customers found luxury goods more desirable when the staff selling them reacted negatively.
At least the impression of being hard to get is crucial. Visit the appointment-only Gucci salon in Los Angeles. Casa Cucinelli, the invitation-only shopping salons of Italian label Brunello Cucinelli; and Chanel’s Salon-Privés – all part of the industry’s effort to offer something special to its biggest spenders.
Or witness the current excitement surrounding former Celine designer Phoebe Philo’s eponymous launch on October 30th – hundreds of thousands of fashion fans (including me) have joined the waiting list, even though no one knows what the new label will sell, let alone the prices (probably high).
Luxury is based on waiting and chatter
As counterintuitive as it may sound, it all makes sense. I have fallen victim to such tactics at different times in my life. Like the time I was pressured into buying a shearling coat in a luxury department store in Paris.
Or even a few years ago when I found myself in one of those weird high-end boutiques that don’t seem to sell anything under £300 and so I bought a nail polisher, wait a minute. . . £180. (I think it was made of some kind of bone).
I only bought it because the saleswoman gave me such a withering look as I walked in that I wanted to prove, well, I’m not entirely sure what I was trying to prove.
Luxury is distant. Naturally, it is only accessible to a few, mainly because real luxury goods are made by artisans and therefore require time and skill. But scarcity creates a cruel mentality.
I’ve had saleswomen walk me to the nearest sofa and then leave me hanging for 25 minutes at a time while they serve someone better dressed. I heard a sharp intake of breath when I asked for size 14 items.
I know what it feels like to hold a shoe in your hands and wait for someone, anyone, to come and serve you.
BBC sitcom “Are You Being Served?” focused on the working lives of employees at a fictional department store called Grace Brothers
I never fully understood it until I worked as a part-time sales assistant at a designer store. Until then I had had weekend jobs in high street shops where being completely helpful was part of my job.
Smiles sold trainers for £60. I quickly learned that Smiles doesn’t sell £2,000 dresses.
The most profitable saleswoman in the store was a woman who ate a slice of white bread all day. Her hunger made her psychotic with customers.
Seriously, she looked like she wanted to kill the very women whose cashmere sweaters she had neatly wrapped in tissue paper. But that, it seemed, was exactly what was needed.
When I was editor of Elle, I took a closer look at how luxury works. There aren’t many smiles in the front row, although most of these editors are extremely charming behind closed doors.
Fashion is always tantalizingly out of reach. Just when you’ve mastered one trend, a new one comes along and throws you for a loop. Just when you’ve saved up to buy a Chanel bag, prices go up.
But through waiting and wanting and feeling like you don’t really belong, the desire arises. Anyone who has ever felt unrequited love understands this.
Although there are many logistical reasons for fashion shows to be held six months ahead of time, this delay helps the luxury mentality.
A few years ago, Burberry decided to sell its collection immediately after presenting it on the catwalk. We all thought that was the way luxury moved.
It did not work. Because luxury is based on the waiting and the chatter and the feeling that with a bit of luck you might have a chance.
Are they served? Actors Sherrie Hewson as saleswoman Mrs Slocombe (left) and Niky Wardley as Miss Brahms
For this reason, designers only release a certain number of shoes and bags each season, and often you need to know what week they will be available in the store before you can think about purchasing those shoes. (That means you need one of those frosty salesmen to tell you.)
One story that gets to the heart of this is when I first started at Elle and noticed that Dior was selling cute little friendship bracelets.
I asked a very experienced fashion editor why not all designers offer things at this price. “Oh, but they do,” she said conspiratorially. “They just didn’t display them.” In other words, if you know, you know.
And so those stern guards who scowl as we enter their stores are actually a front line of defense.
They keep the mystique of luxury alive. For them, yes, but also for us.
Of course, when you reach a certain age, like I am now, the gig is somehow over. Because when I could afford to shop in designer stores, it was at that very moment that they lost their appeal.
A bit like that unrequited lover… once you know you can have her, you don’t want it anymore.