In about a decade, when the High Street - and even Bond Street and Sloane Street - exist merely as showrooms to try on clothing that we will then go home and buy on the internet, the non-virtual fashion businesses which will remain will be the ones like Rous Iland.
In my perfect life there would be a Packing Fairy. She would possess the exquisite taste of a Tom Ford and the ruthlessness of a Mary Portas. She would tip-toe through the window the night before a holiday and as I slept, she would carefully extract all the pieces I need for a perfectly co-ordinated vacation wardrobe together with all the essential toiletries, hair-care, sun-preps and cosmetics.
It will not be news to you, dear reader, that we are well into the summer sales.
Nor is it news that there are some very fabulous bargains to be had due to a combination of the economic downturn and our utterly ludicrous climate, affording us 90-degree heat in April and Februaryesque temperatures in June.
At the risk of annoying a reader who emailed the JC Letters page in April to enquire whether I was in the pay of the BBC press department because of my frequent mentions of Mad Men, I am forced to refer to That Programme once again. (In mitigation, m'lud, I haven't mentioned it since April!).
Prints and patterns of all kinds tend, metaphorically speaking, to bring me out in a bit of a rash. But since last year, when flower prints were having a moment -thanks largely to the genius of London-based Erdem - the florals have been joined by fruit, birds, animals, fish, butterflies and geometrics across every kind of garment at every price point.