At what point did it become acceptable for men and boys to enter a womens clothes shop?.

I'm 37 and a half and as far as I can remember in Britain in the 1970's it was pretty much verboten for any male over the age of, say eight or so to enter Dorothy Perkins or Top Shop. Small gaggles (or whatever the collective noun should be) of dads and lads, reduced to the role of sherpas huddled in the doorways against the best of the British winter. Knowing nods would be exchanged between the group, feet were shuffled and occasional utterances to the effect of 'are you finished yet' would be forced from the corner of mouths into the den of the vixen. If you were lucky Dad had made a pre emptive stop at the local bakery for a meat and potato pie to fend off the cold for a while.

There were two points in the Saturday retail hell where the Dads and Lads, weighed heavy with bags would pull rank. 15.45 and 16.45. At these given signals the oppressed males would be summoned, like Batman after the signal went up, to the windows of Radio Rentals and Rumbellows and the like to watch, through rain spattered glass, a mute Dickie Davies or Frank Bough beat out the jungle telegraph of the vidiprinter. The transfixed audience would hang on every thud of the famous daisy wheel printer as it hammered out the news from football grounds around the nation. The jealously was always palpable. The beasts of burden, weighed down with treasures gleaned from M&S, Stead and Simpson and British homestores were transported, just for a moment to the terraces of Goodison Park, Elland Road and Old Trafford. Pies and programmes, swearing and a post match pint of mild in the local. Not today, not this life, not any more. For just for a few moments the hell would subside, knowledgeable glances would be exchanged as scores were revealed, before reality returned to burst the bubble. "C'mon son, lets go and find you mother, we can make it back for final score".