Before sitting down to write this story, all about the impact of clothing returns, I sent out an informal questionnaire to my colleagues at The Kit. Many of them are avid shoppers, and I wanted to find out their return habits and maybe even some dirty secrets. As I read through their answers in my inbox (which are anonymously shared throughout), two camps emerged. First, the strict minimalists who try clothes on in-person or only buy something if they love and need it (the rare returners). The second group was made up of those I’ll call the wishful returners: These people want to return their items, but either wait too long or can’t be bothered with the effort of sending back an online purchase. Hey, no judgment.

“I just bought a sack dress via an Instagram ad (my shameful new shopping habit—the ads are winning) and when it came six weeks later, not only had I completely forgotten I’d ordered it, but the fabric feels like cardboard and it just looks awful on me. But I cannot be bothered to return it. So it’s sitting, lonely and rejected, at the bottom of my closet.”

I fall somewhere in the middle. I return more than half of my fast-fashion purchases, either out of guilt, unmet expectations or a sudden burst of financial scrupulousness. Just last week I waited in the snaking queue leading to Zara’s checkout, holding a box containing a pair of lace-up ankle boots, silently rehearsing my lines. “I just changed my mind. I don’t like the colour.” I wanted to sound convincingly breezy, as though I never do this.

Even though the items are (almost always) unworn and with tags on, I worry about being turned down. This, of course, is silly. If there’s one thing retailers have learned from consumer shopping habits, it’s that a no-stress return policy can be a vital retention tool. When I took back those Zara boots, I didn’t even need to show my credit card. The money floated back into my account as if by magic.

According to consumer research group NPD’s fashion industry analyst Tamara Szames, ease is the whole point. “A seamless experience, including worry-free returns helps attract consumers and break down online shopping barriers.” Haven’t we all clicked “place order” without a second thought on a website that touts no-hassle returns? I know, for example, that my order from Shopbop will come with a free return sticker, and all I have to do to get my money back is find the nearest Canada Post. Still, finding a post office or filling out a form is too much of a barrier for some, and my office poll revealed more than a few people who gave clothes away to friends or simply stuffed them into some distant corner of shame instead of going through the process. And not everyone had good things to say about Zara’s return policy.

“I had my Visa receipt but had lost the itemized receipt. When I tried to return a $120 Zara jacket (a lot for Zara!), they wouldn’t even let me exchange it! I was SO mad. I just donated it this week after years of holding onto it out of spite.”

Those of us who do manage to make a return are actually likely to shop more — ironic, no? NPD’s research shows that 50 per cent of shoppers who returned in-store made a purchase during the same visit. As I often joke to my friends, the money you get when you take back that ill-fitting skirt or wobbly pair of sandals is akin to finding a $20 bill in an old coat pocket. It’s not new money, but it sure can feel like it.

No matter where you fall on the return spectrum, the fact is that North Americans buy a lot of stuff, and we return a lot of it, too. NPD found that in 2018 almost one-third of clothing buyers have returned their online purchases. EMarketer data from 2018 shows that 20 per cent of all e-commerce purchases in North America are returned, and that number jumps to 50 per cent for items classified as high-end. A 2018 survey by e-commerce tech firm Narvar revealed that 41 per cent of shoppers buy variations of the same item with the intention of sending them back. Our basic psychology is partly to blame for this. “The release of dopamine that we get from shopping is associated more with the buying than the having,” explains fashion psychologist Carolyn Mair. “As soon as we get something, the dopamine level drops.” So, once the thrill of the purchase and those feel-good brain chemicals wear off, we can simply send it back and repeat the process all over again (and again, and again).

“I used to be an ‘emotional shopper’ and notorious for returning things when the buyer’s remorse took over. Becoming more mindful of fast fashion and not participating in trends or fads has really helped me to tame the beast.”

Because of the sheer volume, returns are becoming an environmental issue. Unwanted purchases end up back on a truck, or a plane and back to a warehouse — not exactly carbon-neutral. The process of handling returns, called reverse logistics, is complicated and can result in overworked warehouse employees and stressed-out store staff. When I asked NPD’s Szames whether the eco impact of returns is set to become the next big cause in sustainable fashion, her answer was no, not quite. “While returns won’t necessarily become the next big eco-fashion issue, packaging will.” To that end, shoe brand Allbirds has championed low-waste, recycled packaging and millennial jewelry brand Mejuri is doing away with jewelry boxes and swapping its signature velvet bags for organic cotton pouches.

Although no retailer has outright acknowledged the carbon impact of returned items, some have started to draw the line. Last year, Amazon closed accounts belonging to shoppers who sent back too many items. Asos made news earlier this year when they announced new policies to curb serial returners. The Twitter outcry was swift, with many putting the blame back on Asos for inaccurate product descriptions and fit issues. And the last time I made a purchase at Nordstrom (a department store that’s known for its lax return policy), the salesperson discreetly tucked a printed note into my bag, reminding me that only unworn items in their original packaging may be taken back. Although these policies may seem harsh, Szames tells me that “in Canada we still have ways to go with our shipping options and cost until policies like these become a barrier.” Basically, we’re used to having to wait longer and jump through more e-commerce hoops than our neighbours to the south. Besides, these new, slightly stricter policies are aimed at the so-called “wardrobers,” those who wear something once with the tags hidden and then return it. And you’ve never done that, right?

“This is embarrassing, but once for an ex-boyfriend’s grad, I bought a cocktail dress, wore it with the tags tucked in and returned it the following week. In my defence, I was a very broke university student. Also, I changed out of said dress after the dinner portion of the evening so I wouldn’t sweat in it dancing the night away. That makes me an okay-ish person, no?”

So where does this all leave us, the shoppers? It’s safe to say that returns are not going to become more difficult to make for the average person — retailers still want our money, after all, and hassle-free returns are simply the cost of doing business. And as for the carbon impact of our unwanted buys? No retailer has yet to seriously tackle the issue. Much like the sustainable fashion movement, which started, in part, thanks to an increasingly vocal consumer base, any change to the status quo will take an overwhelming amount of customer demand. Until that day comes, let me offer a mantra: Think before you click.

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