I Was the Only Muslim in the Store During Ramadan — Here's What Nobody Tells You About Fasting on the Shop Floor



Okay so I've been wanting to write this for a while now, and Ramadan season just feels like the right time to finally get it all out. Grab a drink (I'll be watching you with zero jealousy, promise 😭), get comfy, and let me tell you what it was really like fasting through an entire month while working as a fashion coordinator in a high-end showroom — as the only Muslim on the team.

"Just Take Your Break During Iftar, It's Fine!" — Yeah, About That...
When you work retail fashion, you don't really own your schedule. The store does. And Ramadan doesn't care about your shift rota, babes.

The hardest weeks were when I got assigned evening shifts. You'd think evening shifts and Ramadan would be a match made in heaven, right? Like, oh great, I sleep in, I'm fresh, I break fast at the end of the day. WRONG. Here's what actually happened:

Iftar time would roll around — say 7:15pm — and the showroom floor is still buzzing. Customers floating around the new collection, needing help with sizing, asking about fabric, wanting to be styled from head to toe. And me? I'm behind the counter, heart doing a little happy dance because FOOD IS NEAR, but my feet are already walking towards a customer who just picked up the wrong blazer.

My manager was sweet, honestly. She'd pop her head in and go "Aisha, go eat!" And I'd speed-walk to the back room, grab my dates — like literally 1 or 2, whatever I could snatch from the small container I kept in my locker — take maybe two gulps of water from my bottle, and someone would call my name from the floor.

Back to the showroom I go. Still chewing. Bismillah.

The Date Situation Was Actually Comical
I started calling it my "turbo iftar." One date, one sip, done. My colleagues would feel SO bad for me. One of the girls, Priya, she once looked at me like I was a war veteran when I came back from my 4-minute break going "okay I'm good let's go." She goes, "That's it?? You haven't eaten since WHAT TIME??" And I just laughed because honestly, what else can you do?

The thing about working in fashion retail is that the customer energy is relentless. Someone walks in, they see you, they want your attention. It doesn't matter that you've been on your feet since 2pm, it doesn't matter that your stomach has been doing Morse code since 6pm. You smile, you style, you assist.

And I did. Every single time.

But between us? Some evenings I'd be walking a customer through the accessories wall and I'd have this moment of like... am I floating right now or is that just hunger? The answer was hunger. Always hunger.

After Work? Don't Even Talk to Me About Food
Here's the part that nobody really talks about — the post-work exhaustion that kills your appetite completely.

You'd think after a full day of fasting, I'd go home and eat everything in sight. Nope. I'd come home around 10, sometimes 10:30pm, kick off my heels at the door, and just... stand in the kitchen. Staring. My mum would have food ready and I'd look at it and feel nothing. Absolute zero hunger. Just tired. So tired that eating felt like effort.

Half the time I'd have a few spoonfuls of rice, maybe some soup, and then crash on the bed still in my work clothes. My mum would scold me every other night — "Aisha you need to eat properly!" — and she was right, she was SO right, but my body had already checked out for the day.

I think people don't realise how physically and emotionally draining it is to perform — and fashion retail IS a performance — on an empty stomach. You're not just standing there. You're reading people, building rapport, suggesting outfits, managing expectations. It's full-on emotional labour. And doing all of that while fasting? It takes something out of you that food at 10pm can barely replace.

But Here's the Thing I'll Never Forget
Despite all of that — the rushed iftars, the dates-on-the-go, the nights I went to bed barely eating — Ramadan that year hit different. Like, spiritually? It was beautiful.

There was something really grounding about being in a room full of beautiful things — silk blouses, tailored coats, the whole fantasy — and knowing that none of it was what I was working towards that month. I'd be folding a RM800 blazer and quietly making dua in my head. I'd be smiling at a customer while internally just in my own little spiritual world.

My colleagues, bless them, they really tried. They'd check on me, they'd make sure nobody booked me for the longest shifts without a proper gap, they'd move my break as close to iftar as they could manage. One colleague even started keeping a small pack of dates at the counter "just in case." I cried a little. Not gonna lie.

Would I Do It Again?
Yes. A hundred times yes.

Because Ramadan isn't just about the hunger. It's about what you build in yourself when things are hard. And yes, grabbing 1 date and half a sip of water before rushing back to a showroom floor to talk someone into a trench coat is HARD. And funny. And exhausting. And weirdly, deeply, one of my favourite memories from my whole time in fashion.

If you're heading into Ramadan this year working a job where you're the only Muslim — in retail, in hospitality, wherever — just know: you're not alone, your experience is valid, and it is okay if your iftar is two dates and a prayer. Allah knows your niat.

And to everyone who has a proper sit-down iftar with family this Ramadan — please eat an extra spoonful for me. I'm counting on you. 🤲

Ramadan Mubarak, loves. May this month bring you peace, full meals, and manageable shift schedules. Ameen.

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