2023: Online Shopping Is Out.

It seems to be an unofficial tradition of mine to clean out the cupboards and tackle odd jobs around the house in the post-festive period when all other commitments and obligations retreat. This year, I was lucky enough to have the house to myself for three whole days (more on that later; I’m still working out how to write about the best three days of my life without offending my family).

Back in October, knowing that this gift of time and solitude was coming my way, I started making a mental note of all of the icky household quirks that had taunted me throughout the year. You know the ones: milk flakes fossilising on the fridge shelves, the baking-tray cupboard that’s an avalanche risk every time you want to cook some muffins, that pile of long-widowed socks.

On New-Years-Eve-Day, as I waved my family off—I couldn’t even muster up a fake tear—I’d already worked out the fastest route to the opportunity shop, was stocked up on garbage bags and had one foot in my dusty wardrobe.

Whilst my family were swimming, socialising and day-snoozing—and not asking me to taxi them somewhere or pay for something—I was working my way from room to room, doing my own version of Marie Kondo. I boxed up toys in the living room; we’d done a sort-through in months gone by but that was as far as Woody and Buzz and seven thousand Lego bricks had made it. I also cleared out a sideboard that was full of recipe books that were full of meals that were never cooked: two pie-maker recipe books in the living room and an as-new pie maker in the kitchen pantry. I cleaned the fridge (see aforementioned milk, and add to that sauces, jams and chutneys that even the sugar content couldn’t save). I sorted out the Tupperware cupboard (yes, that old chestnut). And like every housekeeper who has sorted their Tupperware before me, I am certain I have unlocked the secret of how to keep lids and bottoms in order*. My fitted sheets were folded in the (almost) You Tubed way and all the bedding was sorted into baskets with tags for different bed sizes.  I got rid of old cosmetics, tossed out no-longer-worn jewellery and shredded out-of-date paperwork.

I got rid of so many clothes. So. Many. Clothes. If you looked at the bags of clothes I piled in my car and took to the op shop, you’d think my wardrobe must be empty now.

But it isn’t.

It’s still full.

And some clothes in my wardrobe still have tags on them. These are clothes that I bought online, tried on at home and thought I liked. Only to decide at one-stroke of the clock after the return conditions had expired, that actually, I didn’t like.

I’m not one for resolutions. But it is convenient that this unofficial tradition of mine lines up with an age-old tradition of committing to change.

So as I look at my still full wardrobe, tags wrapped like a noose around some of the coat hangers, I have decided that in 2023 I am going to change my buying habits.

I’d like to say that I’m going to take on the No-Buy Challenge: buy nothing new for a year. But that’s too Everest for me. First, I’ll tackle my Kosciuszko.

I am pledging to keep my virtual carts empty of any clothes this year: no online shopping for pants, skirts, dresses, jackets or playsuits (there’s still a perfectly good playsuit in my closet—BNWT if you’re interested). If there’s something I need, I’ll seek out a bricks-and-mortar shop to try things on, feel the fabric, asses the fit and toggle with the price tag. My clothing choices will be made with much more effort and consideration than a simple left-click on the mouse.

I’m not the only one who could take a good hard look at their online shopping habits. According to Savvy.com.au, online retail in Australia has increased by over $3 million since January 2020. In the last calendar year (up to December 2022), Australians spent a mind-blowing $62.3 billion (billion!) online. The Guardian tells us that Aussies are one of the highest consumers (per capita) of textiles in the world: buying an average of 56 new garments every year. Now I haven’t done my figures, but I’m pretty sure I’m sitting in the top percentile of that statistic.

Other than trying to find space in an already chocka-block wardrobe, and spending money on clothes I don’t really need, buying is only part of the problem. Sending things back contributes to a big old global crisis.  SMH reports that Australians return approximately one-third of their online fashion purchases, meaning a whole bunch of clothes that I bought, tried on and returned, racked up more-than-necessary carbon miles. In addition to that, a high percentage of garments that are sent back to retailers don’t get repackaged and resold: they go straight to landfill. I—naively—did not know this.

So for the sake of the earth, the sake of my wardrobe space and the sake of my bank account: in 2023, add to cart is out and shop in-store is in. I’ll still have things to tackle when my unofficial traditional clean-out time clicks around again. Milk will still crustify in the fridge, kitchen cupboards will get out of order again and socks will, inevitably, lose their mate. But from this year forward, may my clothing purchases be more in-person, more considered, less convenient and less frequent.

*narrator: she had not worked out the secret to keeping the Tupperware lids and bottoms in order.