Standing in Borders, I suddenly spot a young woman wearing the most delightfully stylish outfit.

Her black blazer had the slightest hint of shoulder-padded structure and puff sleeves. But its shorter, around-the-midriff length updated it from 1980s power-cheese.

She wore its sleeves pushed up her slim arms, wrinkling up over her elbows, giving it a certain je ne sais quoi.

As she loped past me in gladiator sandals, with leather ties around her ankles, I whipped around to ogle her some more and felt weak with envy at the sight of her A-line mini-skirt that had a line of cute wooden buttons down the back. A grey slouchy leather tote bumped against her hip.

I needed to know where and how she put her look together on so many levels. But instead of sidling up and asking her politely, I ducked among the magazine racks. Plucking at my husband's sleeves, I pointed like a dumbstruck idiot at the style nymph's retreating back, mouthing: 'I like her clothes!'

Some men would die before they ask for street directions, even if they're hopelessly lost. Some women, on the other hand, have the same quirky aversion, except they'd rather die than ask a stranger for fashion directions.

I have no qualms about asking complete strangers their age or new acquaintances how much they earn, a skill honed over years of reporting.

But, of late, I've been finding it virtually impossible to ask someone where she bought her cute top/ bracelet/shoes/ gold lame footless tights.

A quick unscientific poll of five of my fashion fanatic friends yielded the consensus that most generally would ask ('How else to get new shopping ideas?' argued one of them).

Only one of them identifies with my don't-ask policy, summing it up thus: 'I almost never compliment or ask strangers, just gawk. I don't want to seem uncool.'

So is it acceptable to ask chic dressers where they scored their threads? The answer is yes - and it's less scary than it seems.

Call it a show of sisterly solidarity: Most women are delighted if you ask them and would go so far as to readily volunteer information.

Says S, the owner of a retro-inspired luxe boutique: 'As soon as someone compliments me, whether or not she asks me where I got the item from, I will volunteer the information because I'm so happy to share my good buys with others."

Things can veer into cattiness, though. Dime-store feminists may point out that in a phallo-centric society, where women doll themselves up to attract men, fashion tips are guarded like trade secrets in the evolution game.

One member of my unscientific poll panel tells of a female friend who never tells her where her shoes are from, fobbing her off with vague remarks. The said footwear are - as far as she can tell - expensive Prada ones.

Lorraine, my arts doctorate- candidate friend who can always be counted on to give me a pseudo-anthropological answer to every trivial question I can think up, thinks it boils down to the nature of fashion.

As she puts it: 'Style is seen as something very personal. So if you have to ask someone else how to get it, it's like you're trying to copy them. And that just goes against the idea of fashion as something very idiosyncratic and against the norm.'

She observed, too, that women tend to get their fashion inspiration and advice from magazines in private instead of asking around.

Ironically, this lack of fashion engagement and dialogue with other women might have led to a sea of unimaginative dressers, clad nearly identically in high-street brands.

Wouldn't it be better if one took a leaf from the stylish strangers around us, instead of from commercial fashion spreads, trashy Hollywood starlets or stick-thin models?

True, fashion voyeurs can read real-people fashion columns like Urban's Hey, Good-looking to see where people get their clothes from without actually having to ask.

But who knows what that casual question might yield? Another friend of mine, F, once struck up a lasting friendship with a woman she met in an airport, after the latter asked her where she got her handbag from.

That said, admiring something from afar is often the best way to appreciate it. I'm still quite happy watching the fashion scenery go by without any inquiries.

Perhaps the men have got it right: Who needs directions? It's more fun and challenging trying to figure the way out on your own.

This story was first published in Urban, The Straits Times on Feb 28, 2008.