I had a moment of panic this week. There I was, sitting at my desk at home, when I realised that - shit! - it was the last day to return a pair of not-cheap sandals I’d bought online and which, on arrival, made my feet look more than a bit Frodo Baggins.
Of course, I’d purchased them from a fancy French retailer, which meant the returns process involved some complicated rendezvous with a local phone shop that also takes parcels. Or I could pop into central London and get an instant refund in person. Ooh yes and while I was at it, I could take those two pairs of trousers I needed to return to Cos. Ideal!
Was it, though? As I got onto the bus, I suddenly felt silly, with three giant bags under my arm. Why was I taking a couple of hours out of my working day to return clothing that neither fitted me, nor that I particularly wanted? How come I had an email in my drafts folder, so that I could keep a record of what I’d bought online and what needed returning?
I do have a lot of clothes - I have always enjoyed buying them, right from my very first baby blue crop-top in Tammy Girl, circa 1996. I’ve never really thought of myself as an emotional shopper because it’s never noticeably fluctuated around times of personal crisis. Mine has been a consistent habit and something that makes me happy. An outfit rarely makes or breaks my day.
Besides, it’s not as if I’m binge-buying things and leaving them untouched, with the labels still on. Everything that newly enters my wardrobe is worn - and if I haven’t reached for it within a few days, I know that I probably never will and it goes back. I never, ever spend money that I don't have. See? In control.
Since we all started to wake up to the impact of fast fashion on the planet (the number of textiles being incinerated is horrifying) and the appalling conditions under which workers are forced to labour, I have tried to change my ways. I don’t want to be one of the third of consumers who put clothes they no longer wear in the bin, because they no longer wear them. Over the past couple of years, I’ve bought from sustainable brands (not cheap, but the halo is priceless). I can’t remember the last time I went into Zara. Since going freelance, I’ve sold many of my work clothes on Vinted and Depop, and now buy more preloved items than brand new. Basically, I’m a one woman circular economy.
And yet. Why is it that when I see many of my fellow journalists committing to follow the ‘Rule of 5’ shopping challenge - set up by
- do I recoil? I could NEVER do that, I think. I wouldn’t want to only buy five new things in.a year. It would make me too sad.Hmm, not an emotional shopper you say?
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