On 1 October, OpenAI added a new button to ChatGPT: “Try On”. You upload a selfie or a full-body photo, pick a garment and the machine puts it on you. No queue, no curtain that won’t close, no overhead light that makes you look freshly discharged from intensive care. And while half the industry cheers or panics, I have a different question: if a chatbot can try clothes on you from your sofa, what excuse does your fitting room have for still being the worst square metre in the shop? Because this looks like a tech story, but it’s a store design problem. And we’ve been failing it for years.
According to TechCrunch, the feature runs on OpenAI’s new image model, promises more natural lighting and richer textures, and comes with a Favorites library where you save products next to your virtual try-ons. It isn’t the first: Google launched its own virtual try-on in 2025. But when the assistant hundreds of millions of people use for everything starts dressing them too, the message is clear. Trying on clothes is moving house. And it isn’t moving into your store.
AI takes the image. The store keeps the body
Let’s be precise, because there’s a lot of nonsense flying around. A virtual try-on answers one question: “how does this look on me in a picture?”. And it answers it better every month. What it doesn’t answer is everything else. Whether it itches. Whether the sleeve pulls when you lift your arm. Whether the trousers survive sitting down. Whether that green, under your office lights, drains your face. Whether this brand’s medium is the other brand’s medium.
That’s the hole, and it’s an expensive one. A late-2024 study by McKinsey and The Business of Fashion, cited by Fortune, estimates that up to 30% of fashion bought online is sent back, and each return costs on average between $21 and $46 in shipping, handling and making the item sellable again. AI may bring that number down. I hope it does. But the doubt behind most returns isn’t visual. It’s physical.
You can’t render touch
You can generate the perfect image of a sweatshirt. You can’t generate the gesture of pinching the fabric between two fingers and knowing, in half a second, whether it’s good or cardboard. That gesture is physical retail’s oldest competitive advantage and its most wasted one. Every time a store hides product behind a counter, piles it up with no order or hangs it so tight nobody can touch it, it’s giving away its only trump card against the screen.

Your fitting room: where the sale is decided, designed like a storeroom
Now for the part that hurts. Walk into your store as a customer and head straight for the fitting room. What do you find? I know it by heart, because I’ve seen it in chains and in neighbourhood shops alike: a curtain that doesn’t quite close, one hook for one hanger, a stool that can’t hold a coat, a mirror that distorts and a light that turns anyone into a ghost. And sometimes, as a bonus, boxes of stock in the corridor.
It’s absurd. The fitting room is the only place in the store where the customer has already chosen a product and is one step away from paying. Years ago, RetailNext data published in Retail TouchPoints already showed that fitting room visitors were 25% more likely to buy. And a UNC Kenan-Flagler study cited in the same article found that adding just one staff member to the fitting room area raised transactions per hour by 12.55%. One person. Not a screen. Not an app.

What a fitting room needs to compete with AI
None of this requires a refit. Warm, frontal light that flatters instead of punishing. A full-length mirror with no distortion, and another to see your back. Room to put down a bag and a coat without a balancing act. Hooks for three or four pieces, because nobody tries on just one. And someone who asks whether you need another size before you have to get dressed again to go and find it. That’s real customer experience, not the slide-deck kind.
Luxury worked this out long ago. In its boutiques, the area where you choose and try on isn’t a corridor with curtains: it’s a salon. Few pieces, a comfortable seat, kind light, time. It isn’t decoration. It’s a way of telling the customer their decision matters.





