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This week, Avondhu reporter, Ellen Lynch, gives us an insight as to why she prefers to shop for clothes on her own.

I've always preferred to shop, particularly for clothes, on my own. My twin sister, whose style and taste closely reflects my own, is the only one I tolerate being with me. That's because, like me, she's a decisive shopper. She doesn't feel the need to hold up prospective purchases for a second opinion from me before trying on or buying. We split up and go our separate ways as soon as we get inside a store, waiting until we get home to do a 'show and tell' of our purchases.

Going clothes shopping with female friends is a vexation I can do without. I don't have the patience (or interest I must confess!) to stand there commenting on what they're looking at and listen to them vacillate when I can be off looking at things I'm interested in. I'm also afraid of coming up short in the diplomacy department and telling them what I really think when they ask for my opinion on how something looks on them.

I have my own peculiar way of clothes shopping. I can be in and out of a store in minutes, having scoped everything out. If something catches my eye and I think it'll suit me, I ask myself two things: 'Have I anything similar or nicer at home?' If not I'll consider the price and, ask myself if I can afford it. If I can, I'll buy it.' Done. Dusted. Move on. I don't have patience for the endless second-guessing some of my friends go on with. OK, if it's a designer piece that's going to cost a week's wages, but agonising over a €15 top from Dunnes? I think not.

The biggest affront to the natural order of clothes shopping for me is seeing men accompanying their girlfriends/partners/wives. I get especially irked when I see a woman holding up something for the man's inspection and/or approval. First of all, needing someone's else's opinion, man or woman, on prospective buys is a totally alien concept to me. As for men, surely they could be more gainfully employed elsewhere? Isn't there grass to be cut? Cars to wash? Football on telly? I eye these members of the male species with disdain. Or at least the ones who are trailing miserably around behind their women looking like they'd prefer to be anywhere else. I mock their meekness. Assert yourself man, I want to roar at them. You've no business here. Be gone with you! As for those who look like they are actually enjoying the experience, well those I steer clear of. They creep me out too much.

In particular the lingerie department of any store is no domain for males. I stumbled across one such specimen recently, commenting on a bra his wife was holding up for his opinion. I understand that many men like to see their women in lingerie and that's perfectly acceptable but in that case they should observe the time-honoured tradition of sneaking into the store on their own and enlisting the help of the sales assistant to acquire what they'd like to see their other half in.

These weren't a young couple though, and it was an undergarment of the strictly utilitarian variety that was being inspected. Still she felt the need for his input. I snorted in derision as I stomped out of what should have been strictly female terrain, denied my opportunity to have a look. I wasn't going to select items and risk having him throw his eye over my choices too.

Call me old fashioned but I like the type of man that hates shopping and only ventures into a mall when it's absolutely necessary, stocking up on enough clothing to see him through for the next year so that he won't have to encroach on our rightful territory again for a while.

Besides, men, when they arrive at a shopping mall, park as far away as possible whereas we women will drive around in circles for half an hour waiting for a spot nearest the door to become available. We work on the premise that we're going to come out laden with bags and want to make things easier for ourselves.

I fully intend keeping clothes shopping a solitary pursuit. Besides if I don't, how can I possibly convince him, when he asks: "Is that new?" that of course it isn't, I've had it for absolutely ages …

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