There are two ways to shop in London. One is an errand with a receipt at the end. The other is an afternoon — unhurried, well dressed, punctuated by tea — in which the buying is almost incidental to the being out. The second is the one the city was built for, and the West End still stages it better than anywhere in Europe.
The geography
Bond Street for the maisons; Mount Street for the same money in a quieter voice; the arcades — Burlington, Piccadilly, Royal — for the small perfect things nobody needed. Knightsbridge is its own weather system: Harrods for the spectacle and the food halls, Harvey Nichols for a sharper edit and a better view from the fifth floor. Do one village per afternoon. Ambition ruins the pace.
The method
Start after lunch, when the streets have exhaled. Carry nothing; have things sent or collected. Try on more than you intend to buy — the boutiques expect it, and the theatre of it is half the point. Stop at four, wherever you are, for tea or a glass. The pause is not a break in the afternoon; it is the centre of it.
Company changes it
Shopping alone is efficient. Shopping accompanied is a different activity entirely — an opinion by the mirror, a dissenting eyebrow at the price, someone to hold the argument for the better coat. The verdicts are the entertainment. The bags are souvenirs.
A small discipline
Buy less, better, and only what survived the pause at four. Anything still being discussed over the second cup deserves to be walked back for. Anything forgotten by then has answered its own question.
The better shops are more fun with a second opinion. Mine is considered — and honest.