Of course, that kind of experience does exist in the form of personal shopping. A service by which a cache of clothes is compiled for you by someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of the latest trends and collections and, crucially, the capacity to know what you want (and probably shouldn’t even try) before you do.

But the idea of personal shopping has become somewhat diffuse over the past couple of decades. Once, when department stores and boutiques were in their pomp, you could rock up and spend an afternoon lounging in a capacious dressing room as an effusive man with a neat parting and a nice suit fetched clothing and refreshments. You were like a kid in a sweet shop, or a men-only revival of Pretty Woman – proper shopping. But over time, the service, if available, has become staid and impersonal. All thick carpets and lukewarm Nespresso and a tacit understanding that you have to buy something, even if you don’t really like anything.

Nevertheless, the concept of an expert styling service for time-poor aesthetes makes complete sense. Which is how I came to have lunch with Mr Matthew Schröder, a senior Personal Shopper at MR PORTER. Serving a continent-wide roster of clients, his job is to fix any request that may arise, ranging from the banal to the dramatic. If someone needs an emergency tuxedo for a last-minute event in Paris, for example, or a well-chosen gift for their father-in-law, or just advice on the best white sneakers, Schröder is at the other end of the phone.

When we met, I was about to take a trip to Italy, so Schröder suggested that he curate an edit of looks and accessories that would augment my usual packing. And I, identifying as a time-poor aesthete (if I may say so myself) with too much cold-weather clothing and not enough linen, realised that I’d be mad to turn down such a kind offer.

First, we needed to establish what I was into. I have worked in fashion for a decade, but rarely have I had to dissect my own sense of style. If you were asked to describe the way you dress to a stranger without mentioning any brands, what would you say? I’ve always thought my style was kind of preppy, kind of bookish, with an emphasis on classic menswear and the occasional foray into sneaker culture and niche Japanese clothing.

I’ve never been one for “high” fashion, per se, striving for if-you-know-you-know understatement over overt luxury or hype-beastery. And yet, when quizzed, I found myself expressing a love of animal prints, and a desire to explore the potential of wide-legged trousers. It was news to me, but Schröder wasn’t fazed. I could see the cogs whirring: he was already mood boarding.

We agreed to meet again later that week and stay in touch over email with thoughts and ideas. I sent him a list of brands that I felt (or rather, hoped) represented my style – Beams Plus, Drake’s, Needles, Our Legacy, YMC and more – from which he would pull together an edit for me to survey later that week at MR PORTER HQ in west London. I asked if every client gets such bespoke treatment, and Schröder said they do, should they have the time or inclination, but generally he simply keeps them updated with personalised edits of key new releases and recommended looks.

Two days later, we were sitting in the serene confines of a room at the MR PORTER office, coffee in hand – good coffee – and two rails of clothes lining one wall, with a row of shoes beneath and a table dotted with accessories. A vast mirror; enough space to swing a big cat.

Schröder explained that he had pulled together an edit of pieces that could be handy on my upcoming trip – shorts, tees, breezy shirts, softly tailored suits for dinners out and a few statement pieces. I’ve always leaned toward asceticism when it came to packing for a trip like this, erring on a modular, space-saving edit than can be arranged in various ways. But looking at a rail spiked with leopard print, hickory stripes, indigo seersucker, yellow suede and crochet, I had the urge to mix things up.

First, I reached for the things that I knew. A boxy, subtly embroidered shirt by the ever-brilliant Story Mfg., selvedge denim jeans (wider than I’d normally go) by Neighborhood and a linen overshirt from Oliver Spencer. The former is exactly the kind of thing you want to wear for sundowners on some Tuscan outlook, and the latter is exactly the kind of thing I want to wear all the time, holiday or not. The jeans weren’t quite right, but that’s jeans for you.

Then I started to explore the weirder stuff, the clothes furthest from the safe sartorial space I described to Schröder at lunch. Like all men in their mid-thirties, I am reassured by the sight of a Carhartt work jacket on the rail, but the matching wide-leg shorts spook me. A touch too Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, perhaps. But then I put them on and it all made sense. Supreme comfort and an immediate change in my posture. I felt tougher, more nonchalant… steezy, even. I would never have considered them, but here I was in the mirror, sporting the kind of smirk only good clothes can illicit.

Schröder had wisely consulted my Wish List on the site before our meeting, so a few potential purchases I’d been mulling are right there waiting for me. Two pairs of very lurid adidas Originals Gazelles, which, it turned out, needed to be sized down, and a pair of New Balance 550s, which I’d always assumed wouldn’t suit me, but they very much do. (With Italy on my mind, I had been on the hunt for a pair of Call Me By Your Name-style sneakers – to be worn with white socks, short shorts and a big shirt – and here they are.)

The core merits of personal shopping are obvious – no hunting for sizes, no queueing for the tills, no risk of “cubicolia”. But it was the element of discovery that surprised me most. The finding of things I didn’t know I was looking for, or better yet, assumed I’d never find. For example, I now know that, contrary to my assumption, I can in fact wear a semi-sheer knitted shirt (in this instance, by Mr P.), but might have to spend some more time in the gym before going vest-less beneath. I wouldn’t have learnt that looking at the site, and wouldn’t have even tried such a shirt on in a store.

This culture of discovery, Schröder told me over lunch, is one core tenets of the service, and in turn, his clients are getting more and more knowledgeable. It’s a dialogue, you see. And clearly, it’s much better to be in conversation than speaking to one’s self.