Plus Could a £10 stylist transform my wardrobe?
As the high street struggles, with even John Lewis closing a store, Victoria Lambert tries a new delivery service to revitalise her look
Shopping for clothes used to be an absolute joy, didn’t it? But these days, for most of us, a combination of age, size, finances, energy and distance has conspired to make it far too much of a palaver. So maybe, like me, you dash into Primark for basics, or take a rare foray into Phase Eight or John Lewis for smart. The rest is usually found in the back of the wardrobe.
Latest figures show retail sales are in decline, with M&S announcing last week it is to shut another 17 stores across the UK, while this week John Lewis announced that Knight & Lee in Southsea, one of two stores to retain the original name, will close in July.
Part of the challenge for retailers, of course, is that we’re all internet mad. Data from the Office for National Statistics showed that online sales rose by 15.3 per cent over 2017-18, and now accounts for nearly a fifth of all retail sales.
Yet, for shoppers, the convenience of firing up the PC is often outweighed by the reality of finding clothes that fit this way. How can you judge what will suit without the chance to try it on first?
And it’s not just about convenience. Like many in midlife, I feel increasingly alienated from what’s fashionable – let alone what works best for my changing shape and needs. I’ve lost confidence in my ability to choose.
A new subscription fashion service, Lookiero, believes it has the answer. After launching in the UK six months ago (it started life in Spain and then France in 2016), it has attracted nearly 500,000 subscribers: typically aged 30 to 45, professionals or busy mothers, who receive a box containing five items of clothes they try on at home, and then choose whether to keep or return. Boxes can be scheduled for delivery on demand, once a month, or bi-monthly.
Each box is curated by a personal stylist who takes note of your size, colouring, shape and preferences (which you log into the website when you join); you, the customer, don’t get to know what clothes are inside until you open it.
The idea is not just to send out clothes but a look, which you can build up over time. The only minimum spend is the cost of the stylist – £10 a month – which is then refunded if you buy even one of the items. Buy all five, and you get an extra discount of 25 per cent.
You can select a level of pricing, but most boxes add up to about £250, with around 150 brands represented in sizes six to 20.
Fashion subscription boxes have really taken off in the US, with even Nordstrom, the luxury department store chain, offering its own version called Trunk Club. One of the UK’S most popular varieties is Fabletics, the Kate Hudson-fronted activewear company, which sends out athleisurewear outfits for £44 every month to its VIP members.
Most subscription services allow the customer to choose from a shortlist what goes into the box. Yet the mystery element is undoubtedly part of the fun of Lookiero – which is likely why unboxing a Lookiero haul live to camera is becoming a thing, too.
You can spend hours on Youtube watching women getting all lathered up about the surprises they’ve received, and then trying items on for a public yay or nay.
I’m not sure I’d be up for doing that, but certainly – stuck, as I am, in my fashion rut – the idea of handing over control entirely to someone who really knows what they’re doing is appealing.
So I fill in Lookiero’s online style profile, noting that I am interested mostly in clothes for free time (you also choose work or evening). I suggest I am happy to get items that are casual or boho – here, you can also opt for classic, minimal, evening or street.
I tick a body shape box, supply measurements and colouring, and answer questions about what I like to highlight or hide. I also upload a couple of pictures of myself for the stylist to see. And then I wait: the package can take up to three weeks to be delivered.
I will admit, to being dubious: getting the right size is much harder as you age, and inches amass in places you didn’t expect.
Once the smart brown box arrives, the first thing I find is a note from the stylist assigned to me, Katie, explaining what she has chosen for me and why.
There are dark blue jeans (Kaffe, £44.99) to be worn with a rust-coloured sweater (Cahier, £38.90), its straight style picked to complement my figure.
On top I am instructed to layer a long navy cardigan (Garcia Jeans, £59.99), and pull the whole together with a wool printed scarf (This Film’s A Must, £44.90). Katie suggests I wear the outfit with my own trainers or ankle boots. The fifth item is a blue print chiffon dress (Warehouse, £45), which can be worn with the blue cardigan.
Customers also get a set of cards showing the individual items, and how they could be paired with other basics you might have in your wardrobe.
My first impressions are good – the clothes all look and feel nice quality. But how would that translate on to my actual body?
First up are the jeans, which turn out to be – good grief – a really nice fit. I could faint. Jeans shopping is my idea of hell, but these are perfect. The rustcoloured top is an instant hit, too: loose but not shapeless, and just the length I would choose.
Not everything is an immediate success: the long cardigan feels better than it looks – perhaps the neckline isn’t quite right – and the pattern of the dress is off-putting at first, a series of white horses that have the potential to be twee at my age, and a baggier shape than I am expecting. Yet, once on, another comfort sensation. I realise I have stopped wearing dresses out of summer. The whole outfit seems fresh with tights, boots and the scarf. This last item is a winner as well. I mean, no one needs another scarf, except this one is really soft, and oh, damn it, I want to keep it.
That does highlight one major drawback – it’s easy to overconsume and, likely, overspend. It’s a lot harder to be ruthless about an item you’re not sure about when it is already in your home, inches from the wardrobe. Especially if the alternative is a trudge to the Post Office to send it back – which is, of course, what companies count on. A lot of purchases may have more to do with inertia in the end than delight.
Still, thoughts return to my new personal stylist: the clever, bringer-of-joy-to-my-war-drobe, Katie. What will she do next? I may just have to order another box to find out.