It's all change - except in the changing rooms.
And that's one thing that could push some shops on the high street over the proverbial edge.
Perhaps I'm one of the few who hasn't fully embraced the world of online shopping with the frenzied alacrity of many of my friends and family.
Indeed, in the last 10 weeks I've made just two purchases via the internet - curtains and rollerblades (for my indefatigable five-year-old daughter).
When it comes to clothes, however, I like to feel the material - and I need to try things on.
Whenever I do tiptoe into the virtual marketplace - usually as the Next sale is drawing to a close and I panic myself into thinking some serious bargains could be missed - it invariably ends in the same, sorry way.
What eventually drops on the doorstep with a soft thud looks nothing like it did in the catalogue or on screen; too big or small (clothes sizes differ depending on the retailer - a 10 in Marksies is more like an 18 in Zara) or it just doesn't suit me at all.
But rather than return the garment - which involves careful folding, delicate repackaging and then sending it back via the post office - it invariably ends up getting thrust into the back of the wardrobe to remain forever unworn, the damning price tag still attached, until the next charity clearout.
That whole rollercoaster ride of trying to spruce up a clothing collection - anticipation bordering on excitement followed by crushing disappointment - is too traumatic for me to sell my soul completely to online shopping.
One of the most significant changes we are about to face on the high street of the future is closed changing rooms.
And even on the rare occasion when it's an option, there will follow a 72 hour quarantine of tried-on items.
Not only that; many stores will request that shoppers refrain from handling the prospective purchases. Really?
I mean, who hasn't whittled away blissful hours in the changing room of a favourite shop trying on new outfits - either alone or with a friend for that much-needed second opinion?
The thing is, when you kill off the changing room, you take some of the spirit of the endeavour with it.
You'll never know (well, until you get home) if your bum looks too big in those trousers, or whether there's a little too much cleavage on show with that top.
And you can forget about grabbing a coffee and sit-down natter on a fun shopping day out; takeaway will be the only option.
With social distancing measures bringing inevitable queues, one way systems, face masks and sanitisers, the fear is that even online Philistines like me may not be in such a hurry to rush back to Royal Avenue; and that's something I never thought I'd hear myself say.