WHAT is it with women presented with the opportunity to get their hands on rare `designer' togs at discount prices?

Tell 'em that some supermodel passed a casual glance over a pair of sweaty socks and they'll rip each others hair out to be the first in the queue.

Be it the fruits of Stella McCartney's etchings, a cotton shopping bag like your granny used to have, or the allure of pants and skirts designed by Kate Moss, you'll find girlies camping outside shops from dawn.

Men, on the other hand, are only ever likely to queue up for Kate Moss carrying a cotton bag full of cans of Stella.

Now that really is something worth getting up at silly o'clock for.

Shopping habits

Of course, all of this nonsense proves the point that men and women tend to shop in a very different way indeed. Venus and Mars aren't really far enough apart to demonstrate the divide.

Women actually seem to enjoy shopping, treating it as a leisure pursuit on a par with whale watching or visiting the Taj Mahal.

They'll flit in and out of shops `just looking' at things, discuss them over white wine and noodles, then walk for miles looking at things which are vaguely similar.

Then, as the shops are about to close and the bored looking assistants have reached the point just south of catatonia, `the girls' will go back and buy the first thing they looked at.

Carbon footprints the size of King Kong's are pumped into the atmosphere as parties of women head off to New York, Paris, London and, er, Cleethorpes to take advantage of products available from stores just around the corner from their homes.

Wastage

Posh scents are sniffed, floral patterns pored over and trousers hitched up awkwardly to discover the over-consumption of lunchtime noodles.

I'm delighted for them so long as I don't have to get involved myself. I think I'm right in saying that, like most men, I'm a bit of a tactical shopper.

I either abseil in, SAS-stylee, see what I want, and trot away with it packed and paid for minutes later - or plan purchase with the kind of military precision which allowed the RAF to bomb a Falklands isle landing strip 25 years ago this week.

I'll carry out a thorough intelligence operation on-line, assess every pro and con, select the absolute best price for my purchase, then strike while the iron's hot.

In fact the only queuing I ever do when it comes to `leisurely' shopping is to treat it as the cue for a sharp exit.

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