Shopping is the promise of personal transformation. As I walk through a store each new garment represents possibilities, the lure of another life not yet lived. Ripped jeans, dungarees, suede skirts call out, suggesting I try on these costumes of a future me. Ambient music urges me on, the staff are smiley and I find myself propelled, the uniforms of numerous potential selves gripped in my hands, to the corner of the shop where I can try them on.

Welcome to Changing Room 101, the place where we must conquer our greatest fear: our reflection in an alien mirror.The shopping experience is so optimistic, so promising, so wholly positive until we find ourselves face-to-face with a person we don’t think we look like, trapped between four clinical walls as though preparing for invasive surgery.

No shop in my experience has quite cracked the changing room. Queues are common. Bad lighting is pervasive, though sometimes replaced by illumination so soft and dark I squint to see my reflection. Multi-way mirrors deliver a fuller impression of an outfit but also lead me to vow never to undress again. Who knew my legs looked so ungainly struggling out of skinny jeans? When did I get that huge bruise on the back of my thigh? But the worst offender when it comes to changing rooms is the communal mirror, where like vulnerable snails fitted with a new shell we must shuffle out to face ourselves. Sales assistants flock, well-intentioned shoppers coo. We are trapped under the glare of public scrutiny, wishing desperately we had worn matching socks.

Why are changing rooms so universally awful? We spend a third of our time in a store sectioned away in these private hells, yet even the most upmarket of shops can’t seem to manage a pleasant environment.

Trying on clothes at British High Street chain New Look I was surprised to see a little message for me on the bottom of the mirror (above): Go on, buy it, so you can stop thinking about it. This message (and others like I’ve got too many clothes. Said no girl ever) shows a sympathetic understanding of the thoughts running through our heads in changing rooms. But I can’t help feeling You only need to lose 10 pounds or It must be the lighting might be a more accurate reflection of what we’re really thinking.

This is something stores need to fix, and quickly. When the changing room experience is so soul-crushing, who wouldn’t prefer to load up on Internet purchases, try them on in front of a familiar mirror and send back unwanted items? Rebecca Minkoff and Neiman Marcus have addressed the humiliation of the changing room by installing smart mirrors in cubicles that suggest complementary items and allow you to request help without hobbling out of the changing room in a pair of jeans that won’t zip up. But while this is a welcome move in the right direction, tech can only go so far before we feel like we’ve invited Big Brother into the changing room with us.

All we want is a private space that doesn’t feel cut off, helpful but never intrusive staff, mirrors but not too many, suggestions but no unsolicited advice and a gorgeous, model-like reflection staring back at us. Is that so much to ask?

Question:  What are some of your best and worst fitting room experiences?

By: Clare Kane