So, does Stella fit the bill?

What is it like being a Stella girl? Judging by my trip to her Bruton Street store, there aren't enough around to ask. I was the only customer and unless a few slipped through while I was in the changing room, the signs are that the tills aren't ringing, which can't be good for a location so close to Bond Street, so close to Christmas.

Theoretically, I am Stella McCartney's target customer: I'm 27, single, with some cash. The store is a beautifully designed three-storey townhouse. There's artwork on the walls, cream sofas and huge changing rooms - on first impressions it's a shopping paradise. The staff are genuinely helpful.

Perhaps, then, it's the clothes that are putting customers off. I try on a pair of beautifully cut cream viscose trousers: they fit exquisitely and I'd love to have them, except, at £310, my budget won't stretch. The same goes for a brown satin dress - again, beautiful for a Christmas party, but, at £750, way out of my league.

The fact is, Stella's clothes are too expensive for us twenty-somethings. If you are going to be spending hundreds of pounds, you want something that's covetable, classic and which you can keep for ever - a cotton T-shirt with a wacky design for £220 just doesn't cut it; for something funky, I would go to Topshop. Having a Stella McCartney piece - a fabric handbag, say, at £200 - doesn't yet have the cachet that owning something by Alexander McQueen, Marc Jacobs or Tom Ford for Gucci does, and perhaps that's it. She's charging high-end designer prices for a label that isn't well loved or established enough to justify doing so.