Why returning worn clothes is the latest fashion

‘One in six women admit to purchasing an item of clothing or an accessory, wearing it and then returning it to the shop for a full refund.’ Photograph: Helen Rimell

I remember the last time I did it. My biggest worry was that my heartbeat would give me away. I took a deep breath, told myself to maintain eye contact, drew myself up to my full height and lied my face off. No one ever found out.

Until now. According to a survey, one in six women admit to purchasing an item of clothing or an accessory, wearing it and then returning it to the shop for a full refund. And I am one of them. What I’ve always thought of as a way to look presentable at weddings without having to move into the poor house immediately afterwards has a much more serious name in the US. Return fraud.

Some readers might be shaking their heads, but others will be familiar with the prickle of tucked-in tags, the red wine avoidance body swerve, and the Febreezing of shame the next day. It could be a sign of our obsession with instant gratification, the need to possess and reject, the bad Sex And The City hangover which has left us broke, miserable and in possession of a metric tonne of peculiar orange-beaded mules. Bloomingdale’s department store takes a dim view of the practice, and has marked its merchandise with big black tags that you have to leave on in order to get a refund, meaning you can attend the gala dinner in a Cavalli cocktail dress that you intend to take back the next day, as long as you don’t mind looking like you arrived Santa-style, by climbing down a sooty chimney.

Big stores lose out when we return clothes, but everyone else wins. It depends on the returner, and the garment – you’d hope that no one would be so vulgar as to attend a hot yoga class in their new Spandex unitard and then demand a refund on their purchase. But as long as the wearer has remembered their deodorant and been careful with their cigarettes, I don’t mind the idea of buying a dress that’s already had a few gratis nights out. After all, we love vintage clothes because they have a history and a story. Returned clothes could have great stories too, it’s just they’re more likely to end with a trip to Chicken Cottage.

It’s possible to rent occasion wear from some outfitters, but if stores feel “wardrobing” is a serious problem, they need to get in on the act. Chain stories could consider introducing a clothes library, where a garment can be rented for a reduced fee, which covers storage and cleaning costs. If nothing else, it would make a sizeable dent in the scary pile of man-made fabrics that end up in landfill every year.

For women, fashion consumerism is a game they can’t win. In one light, we’re flibbertigibbets, unable to focus our minds on serious issues like sport, because our heads are full of sparkles and chiffon. If we find joy in fashion, we’re thought to be frivolous and simple, even though this is an industry that generates thousands of jobs and billions of pounds, attracting artistic visionaries and smart entrepreneurs.

However, we can’t escape fashion. Everywhere we turn, we’re being told to look different, to look better, to have the right outfit for every mood and occasion. If you ever have to go out, be seen in public and talk to people, I am certain there will have been at least one occasion in your life when it became a tearful and traumatic experience because you felt you looked wrong. We’re judged by our peers and our families, and now on Facebook and Instagram. People you haven’t seen since school can berate you for recycling a bridesmaid’s dress and wearing it to a christening. Of course we fantasise about finding the outfits that fill us with joy, that make us feel like our very best selves, as if we could tap dance down the Left Bank and solve mysteries and build bridges and make brioche, while being simultaneously sexy, clever, cool and insouciant. But most women, shopping is not a source of joy. Forget the”Big mistake! Huge!” scene in the film Pretty Woman. In reality it’s more like a mash up of Battle Royale and Scum and the bit in Men In Blackwhere the man is slowly revealed to be a big greasy alien.

If wardrobing was legitimised and formalised, shopping would not lead to alarming amounts of waste and even more alarming levels of debt. We would have the time to work out whether we were comfortable in a garment and whether it made us happy. Shopping wouldn’t be such a stressful, expensive risk. It might even become as much fun as the movies suggest. If we could try more and buy less, we’d end up with so many items we truly loved that it would curb our desire for a pointless purchase just because it’s new. No matter how big the store is, returning worn items and lying to get a refund is definitely not OK. But it would be great if shops could recognise why this practice is so widely adopted, and meet us in the middle.