Subscription shopping: Think without the box
Sometime during the past year, fashion subscription boxes took off. These companies send a box of new clothes and/or accessories every month or two. You sign on, provide some info about preferences, pay a fee, and your box arrives. You can subscribe for boxes of decor, cookware, French-themed tchotchkes, pet treats, even a box that "summons the Muse". I'm focusing on apparel-oriented boxes.
According to a McKinsey study of the US market, growth for subscription boxes has doubled for each of the past five years, with about 15% of online shoppers signing up for one or more. The majority of subscribers are mid-20s to 44, with $50k-$100k incomes.
Apparently box-shopping can get out of hand; there's a site called mysubscriptionaddiction.
Fashion boxes are hailed as a boon to busy workers, the aesthetically-challenged, or those who like having someone else choose (wasn't this once Mom?) Up-front "styling fees" range from $20 or $30 to over $165 per box, and this fee is deducted from your purchase.
The majority deliver the same mass-market clothes carried by the average department store, but some services promise exclusive goods or special discounts. Subscribers either pick pieces from their web site, or stylists "get you out of your rut" by choosing for you, based on your profile.
I'm leery of them for the same reason that I wouldn't join Jenny Craig: in order to run our lives (or at least the part we can direct), we need proficiency in making choices. Packaged selections excise work, but also ability. Since few women will get everything from the box, they will still shop, so the subscription only augments their buying.
Think of all the learning that's sidestepped: how to budget, assess value and quality, and choose. The more we outsource, the more we de-skill ourselves.
The promise of "trendy and stylish clothing delivered to your door at least once a month" promotes passivity and the belief that one "needs new things", moving the fast-fashion store's monthly changeover right into your home. Vendors say "Wear the things as many times as you want, to try them out", but the majority permit only a two or three-week window for returns. It's easy to miss the deadline, and the tendency is to stick them in the closet.
Boxes might contain good values, and deliver the predictable frisson of a prettily-packed box dropped on the doorstep. Though I see the fun, subscription shopping is an intravenous drip of unconsidered spending. Unlike the store you might visit once or twice a season, the delivery service builds a much stickier relationship. Subscribers talk about the pleasure of receiving a selection curated just for her.
Some struggling bricks-and-mortar chains have entered partnerships with wardrobe delivery services, who are essentially resellers, while others started their own, such as Ann Taylor Infinite Style and Nordstrom's Trunk Club.
The vendor has data for what is kept and returned, so offerings become better targeted over the months, and surprise—more is bought.
The sales woman who saw that you were short-waisted or did not like large prints has been replaced by an algorithm, and the department store floor is often absent any staff save a cashier.
Have you tried the fashion subscription box? I don't trust my willpower enough to conduct an experiment, so tell us about your experience.
Apparel boxes differ from those of cosmetics or fragrance (e.g., BirchBox), in that you return what you don't want. Most are set up so that you buy what you to keep, but a few, like Rent the Runway, operate on a rental model.
According to a McKinsey study of the US market, growth for subscription boxes has doubled for each of the past five years, with about 15% of online shoppers signing up for one or more. The majority of subscribers are mid-20s to 44, with $50k-$100k incomes.
Apparently box-shopping can get out of hand; there's a site called mysubscriptionaddiction.
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| Left to right, boxes from fabletics, Le Tote and GwynnieB |
Fashion boxes are hailed as a boon to busy workers, the aesthetically-challenged, or those who like having someone else choose (wasn't this once Mom?) Up-front "styling fees" range from $20 or $30 to over $165 per box, and this fee is deducted from your purchase.
The majority deliver the same mass-market clothes carried by the average department store, but some services promise exclusive goods or special discounts. Subscribers either pick pieces from their web site, or stylists "get you out of your rut" by choosing for you, based on your profile.
I'm leery of them for the same reason that I wouldn't join Jenny Craig: in order to run our lives (or at least the part we can direct), we need proficiency in making choices. Packaged selections excise work, but also ability. Since few women will get everything from the box, they will still shop, so the subscription only augments their buying.
Think of all the learning that's sidestepped: how to budget, assess value and quality, and choose. The more we outsource, the more we de-skill ourselves.
The promise of "trendy and stylish clothing delivered to your door at least once a month" promotes passivity and the belief that one "needs new things", moving the fast-fashion store's monthly changeover right into your home. Vendors say "Wear the things as many times as you want, to try them out", but the majority permit only a two or three-week window for returns. It's easy to miss the deadline, and the tendency is to stick them in the closet.
Boxes might contain good values, and deliver the predictable frisson of a prettily-packed box dropped on the doorstep. Though I see the fun, subscription shopping is an intravenous drip of unconsidered spending. Unlike the store you might visit once or twice a season, the delivery service builds a much stickier relationship. Subscribers talk about the pleasure of receiving a selection curated just for her.
 |
| Nordstrom's Trunk Club |
The vendor has data for what is kept and returned, so offerings become better targeted over the months, and surprise—more is bought.
The sales woman who saw that you were short-waisted or did not like large prints has been replaced by an algorithm, and the department store floor is often absent any staff save a cashier.
Have you tried the fashion subscription box? I don't trust my willpower enough to conduct an experiment, so tell us about your experience.
Comments
Someone I know is a time-starved, sleep-deprived mother who just got a big new job. She too likes the boxes but told her mother she will unsubscribe after three or four months, once she has enough for requirements of job.
But for others, I suspect same reasons I have overshopped atr times in my life: seemed kind of fun, filled a void, or was easilt led to « needing » something new.
Lily: Let’s hope she learns from the suggestions, builds confidence and then unsubscribes.
Why did I bother? I am not a good shopper; I am a buyer though, and often bought the wrong things, just because they fit me. In addition, we just moved to a new location that didn't have the same diversity of shops as the old neighborhood. I was attempting something new. I chalked it up as a good learning experience, and returned the lot. As someone said above, if you really need it, you'll find a way to obtain it -- in person or from a trusted online source.
My verdict: hit or miss, could fill a need.
Mater and Pater have doubtless purged their cupboards and drawers before the big move, but divesting oneself of clothing items one doesn't wear is both eco and kind, if they can suit someone else.
Unfortunately, one can not always buy things that "spark joy". Sometimes one has to make do, sadly...
Shipping is very polluting, ESPECIALLY shipping boxes like these with a high number of returns.
P.S., a shameless plug for "Socks for Bubbly" (Des bas pour des bulles), asking people to take warm socks to participating restaurants in Montréal and Toronto to prevent foot diseases and conditions among homeless people. This initiative was started by the owner of a local restaurant here and has greatly expanded:
https://baspourbulles.com/
Nelson Bartley: Thanks so much for your firsthand account. I had not thought of the distance factor. I suspect that in the uh, old days a skilled saleswoman could have suggested you try a midi skirt. But now that you know you can rock one, you can order on your own.
I just read a long New Yorker piece on "Rent the Runway" and I have to admit, I would just love to try it for two months for the experience (but they do not serve Canada.) A high school principal acquaintance her rents ALL her work clothes. It's a whole different mind set. I'm sitting here writing in a 7 yr old navy sweater that still looks fine, and the women who Rent the Runway often get over 150 different items for a short period, in one year. Basically it's like living in a dorm and swapping clothes with all the women there, and paying about $2,000/year to do that.
materfamilias: Oho! What a perfect example of justifying mindless consumption.
lagatta: materfamilias does not say she cannot easily •get• green or ethically-made products (after all, she lives in Van!), she is pointing out the dissonance involved in offering eco-conscious products in a •subscription box•.
There is a nice, wide continuum between "make do" and "sparks joy. Not everything needs to spark joy.—Marie Kondo set a very, very high bar. What might we call these intermediate levels: "pretty good", and "just fine", and "good but not great?"? For clothing, when I've bought at"making do" it has resulted in waste because then I didn't wear the thing, but for other items it is sensible. For example we made do with some rickety outdoor chairs for past 7 years!
Shipping: The article about Rent the Runway in the New Yorker says 10,000 items a day are returned to the NJ warehouse and an equal number go out. Another warehouse is on line for TX. They are also the biggest drycleaner in N. American and they think probably the world.
Go right ahead and plug those socks!
I do know one person who does StitchFix but haven't heard any feedback.
IF I were starting out and in a business environment, i might try the items from MMLafleur. That is totally fantasy though. At almost 65, I am trying to wear my nicer clothes to work so I can get my cost per wear down before retirement.