On Wednesday, I was in Selfridges trying on dresses for a Christmas dinner. As I stepped out of the changing room to look at myself in the mirror, I noticed a man looking at me as he walked past the area. He stopped to stare for a few seconds, before moving on.
I then went back into the changing room and tried to think nothing of it, putting on a different dress. This one was open at the back and had ties I needed help with.
I turned to exit the cubicle, holding myself into the dress so that I could ask a shop assistant for help. But before I could reach for it, the curtain opened to reveal the man who’d stared at me – only now he was inches away from my face, after having just tried to enter my changing room.
“Excuse me,” I said on impulse. His face was expressionless as he silently turned and walked away.
I followed him out, explaining what had happened to a shop assistant nearby. She shrugged helplessly; this didn’t seem to be something she had the energy or training to deal with. Another assistant was more helpful and called security, taking a description of the man, and I was told they’d look out for him.
On my way out, I asked a security guard if he’d seen the man. He hadn’t, but explained if anyone found him that he’d be detained. “Then what?” I asked. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “It’s not really my area.”
I left the building, confused about what had just happened – why nobody seemed to care, and why I felt so shaken.
When I got home, I reported the incident to customer services, who told me to report it to security. I explained I’d already spoken to them and had since left the shop. “Hold on,” the man on the phone said, returning a few minutes later. “You can report it to the police if you want.” I said that I planned to. “Thank you for coming to Selfridges,” he replied. “Have a lovely day.”
A representative of the luxury department store has since said in a statement: “The safety and wellbeing of our customers and team members is our utmost priority at Selfridges, and we do not tolerate any unacceptable or threatening behaviours towards anyone. We are working with the police to support their investigation into this incident and remain actively committed to fostering a safe and welcoming environment within our stores.”
It was only later that I started to realise the gravity of what had happened. Had the man entered my changing room seconds earlier, he would’ve seen me in nothing but my knickers. I would’ve been facing away from him, instead of towards him about to exit.
What was he planning to do, exactly? What would’ve happened had I not been clothed, or facing him? How did he manage to even access a women’s changing area on a women’s shopping floor? Why wasn’t there a security guard anywhere in sight? Why didn’t anyone from security come to speak to me after I’d told the shop assistant? Why didn’t anyone offer to safely escort me out of the building, given the man was still at large in the shop? And why did I leave that day feeling like I’d caused a fuss?
What that man did is a crime. Voyeurism, to be specific. According to the Sexual Offences Act, “a person commits an offence if for the purpose of obtaining sexual gratification, he observes another person doing a private act, and he knows that the other person does not consent to being observed for his sexual gratification”.
Given this man had seen me earlier outside that particular changing room and a changing room is obviously a private space where someone does not consent to being observed, well, I’d say he fits the bill for an offence quite neatly.
I filed a police report online and within an hour received a call from them. The next morning, two officers came to my house to take a statement. They explained finding the man was unlikely, even though CCTV captured the incident from outside the cubicle.But they thanked me for reporting it – understanding immediately how serious the incident could have been.
Being a woman often means brushing things off. We do it every day – whether it’s the colleague who made an inappropriate comment about our outfit or the barista who talked to our breasts. It doesn’t matter, we tell ourselves. He didn’t mean anything by it. Nothing happened. It’s fine. The script is one we’ve memorised to recite on cue so quickly we seldom question whether we actually mean any of it.
But it does matter.
Who knows what could’ve happened had the timings been even slightly different. What I do know is that incidents like this need to be taken seriously, regardless of how innocuous they may seem. Consider every time you hear about a man killing a woman – they almost always have a history of sexual misconduct, whether that’s flashing, sexual harassment, or other reports of abuse.
I also know that what did happen was still a violation and a crime. And that I shouldn’t have left Selfridges that day feeling like I was supposed to just brush it off.
