Did it just now, tut. And a gasp-making gown inspired by English paganism and folklore, in black and cream dégradé silk organza popped up, by Alexander McQueen, for £9,535. I click every little icon, the back view, the close-up, on the hanger, on the model, on the catwalk (that’s a video – oooh, flutters). I learn that the lovely thing is SOLD OUT in all its Italian sizes, tchah. Never mind, they’re all too small for me, chiz.  God, he’s like the flipping Bourbons, my old man. Learns nothing and forgets nothing. I said, a) ordering books from Amazon stopped a whole nation being afraid of online shopping, and b) the seeing-and-fingering thing was before Net-a-porter, which sends you perfectly folded and pristine clothing in fabrics of the kind of quality you were expecting when you ordered them and took the price into account, okay? He withdrew.  So when I read yesterday that online clothes shopping had doubled in five years, I was surprised. That it hadn’t quadrupled. If you live in London, you can shop on the way to work, but only one in seven of us can pop out of an Underground station and into Harvey Nicks with practised ease (and leave our paraphernalia in the office while we shop).  Those of us who live in, say, Newbury and in close proximity to, say, Basingstoke, or at a stretch, Reading (it’s a stretch too far, believe me), don’t have much fun buying clothes in shops locally. All provincial high streets have become alike: Jigsaw, French Connection, Warehouse, River Island, Oasis, dear me, anything else? Oh, Marks & Spencer. Well, I can buy a three-bean salad, I suppose. Save me cooking.  All provincial towns have become alike, too, in one really annoying way. Everyone I know used to be able to time journeys into Newbury to the pip: from home to station, 16 minutes (incl. parking); to posh orthodontist, 14 mins; to preferred vet, 20.  Now, one crawls past slowy-downy street furniture and special lanes for buses and fleets of cameras and sleeping policemen, and every journey time is doubled or worse. And when you get there, there is no parking. Deliberately. Because the council, Working for YOU in West Berkshire, is so virulently traffic-free that it turns bicycles back from the main square. It was a small, ancient and pretty market town. Now it’s an Improved Pedestrian Experience.  So why would anyone drag themselves to Marks & Spencer for a three-pack of white summer T-shirts and some new knickers and a striped cotton cardigan, when you can see them displayed at your kitchen table – and the postman will drop them off on Tuesday?
Online clothes shopping has doubled in five years &ndash; I&rsquo;m surprised it hasn&rsquo;t    quadrupled, says Vicki Woods.