Department store rebellion

I have a problem with department stores. Intrinsically, I loathe shopping in them. Department stores are places I go to when I have to buy something that I think would be easiest to purchase in a department store. These, with very few exceptions, are items in which I have no joy at all in the purchase. The list includes things like kettles, mens' socks, duvet covers, towels, ready-to-hang curtains, random lightbulbs, seat cushions, and presents for people with whom I have nothing in common.  Occasionally, very occasionally, I am drawn to the oddly conceived chocolate area in John Lewis, located between the photo frames and the light hangings. Or I find myself in the shoe section at Fenwick. Or the watch and accessory bar in Debenhams. I don't want anything they have to offer, indeed I find myself picking up a Calvin Klein shoe or a Radlett bag in Fenwick, thinking simultaneously, why am I doing this? I don't need shoes. I loathe Radlett bags. I'm not even on the right floor of the department store for the thing I came in for. And who on earth wanders into John Lewis to spend twenty quid on an outsized jar of Montezuma chocolate buttons? But that's the clever marketing set up of the stores. You catch a colour, a light, a suggestion of something, and before you know it you are up to your ears in haberdashery or Spanx underwear. Such underhand tactics bring out my most rebellious spirit. It makes me do things like walk in wearing dark sunglasses, so I won't be caught by the bright lights and colours. Of course what it actually does is make me look like a random thief or a bag bomber, which means I end up making my necessary purchase tailed by highly conspicuous store detectives, and that's no good either. What I want is to walk in exuding nonchalant self confidence, I want to radar the message, I am only in here for your Egyptian cotton fitted sheets!  Nothing will make me divert to the Hunter wellies, the Nails Inc nail bar, the special purchase sofas or the Krispy Kremes! Seriously, there is a bit of an issue about department stores trying to be all things to all people. The number of times I've ducked into one of these places looking for a swimsuit, only to find that they have several types of Croc shoe in only three sizes, gold metallic bikinis for 8 year old girls, and if you rummage really really determinedly you may find a dusty Speedo one piece circa 1982, size 10 or size 22. I guess my problem is that I am fundamentally anti the proposition of the department store, which is, don't come in with any objective in  mind. Just visit us! Like you would a school fair or a church jumble sale or an old peoples' home Open Day! So I'm obviously not their target market because I don't do any of those things. I am the person who leaps on her bike (now I have two working feet and can finally do so) when I have the odd hour spared from my endless baking, and if I were to drop in anywhere it would probably be, I am not ashamed to say, a local farmer's market, an intriguing looking newly opened boutique, or a non-franchise bakery. In other words I like to go to places where the proposition is that you can only buy one thing - a type of food, a type of clothing - and it has to fit into the bicycle basket. There is only one answer to this, and thank goodness I recently discovered it. Shop online. A trauma free way to make my rebellious statements. Click on sheets. Click on pay. And click on the button that says, deliver to my house exactly what I ordered and don't even think of trying to sell me picnicware. Result.