This week I happened across a 2010 Guardian interview with Natalie Massenet, marking the tenth anniversary of her pioneering business, Net A Porter. The article’s opening sentence struck a chord: “In 2000, women only bought clothes they had seen, touched and tried on.” It’s interesting to reflect that, at different ends of the market, the two online success stories that emerged from the turn of the millennium were born not out of fashion retail, but out of publishing and media.
At one end, as Natalie explained in the interview, Net A Porter was a “hybrid between a store and a magazine that was delivered digitally.” At the other, in its early days, Nick Robertson’s ASOS – which originally stood for As Seen On Screen – ran with the tagline “buy what you see on film and TV,” selling clothes that imitated those seen on screen.
In 2000, women only bought clothes they had seen, touched and tried on.
In many ways the move towards online shopping was slower in fashion and apparel compared with other parts of the retail sector – and that 2010 article strikes at the heart of why. Asking customers to get used to buying clothes they hadn’t tried on required a large – and slow – mindset shift. Fashion brands and retailers worked hard to address this challenge, providing ever better size charts and guidance on sizing up or down, but probably the single biggest intervention was the creation of very generous returns policies that psychologically shifted risk away from the consumer.
Today, estimates suggest that around a fifth of fashion sales globally originate online, and in developed markets the figure is significantly higher. As a result, those returns policies that were once the solution are now a problem the industry cannot ignore. In a sophisticated market such as the UK, the returns rate routinely passes 30 per cent, with fit and sizing leading the list of causes.
Grappling with the scale of the problem, businesses are experimenting with a wide range of approaches. Illustrating the point, Google extended its virtual apparel try on tool to shoppers in the UK and India at the end of last year, after testing it in the US market. Inside Google Shopping, the user uploads a full length photo and then watches as the system maps clothes onto their image, simulating drape, stretch and movement.
To consumers, Google’s intervention might not feel entirely new; many retailers, including Zara and Zalando, have been rolling out similar services for some time. But Google has form when it comes to seemingly subtle shifts that are much more consequential for consumer facing businesses – in particular, the advent of Google Shopping itself, and hotels and travel pricing in Google Maps.
Its entry into this market is a sign of scale. Analysts currently value the global virtual try on market at around $9 billion, with forecasts suggesting it could grow to roughly $46 billion by the end of the decade as it becomes more accurate, more embedded in culture and more widely available. Retailers that have already dipped their toes into the AI try on space report conversion rates around 30 per cent higher when customers use these tools, alongside a significant drop in returns – a problem that is both environmental and costly.
Google arrives into a landscape that has already been warming up. Consumer apps such as Letsy have made it feel normal to conjure an outfit from a photograph and a prompt. At the brand end of the market, platforms like FASHN generate realistic images of clothing on interchangeable models, creating try on content at industrial scale for product pages and campaigns.
At the premium and luxury end of the market, labels including ME+EM, Paul Smith and Cefinn have incorporated Harper Concierge into their online platforms. The service delivers a curated selection to your home: you book a slot, receive the pieces and live with them for a few days before paying for what you keep. The stylist then returns at the end of the trial window to collect any unwanted items, removing the need for separate postage, labelling or refund processes for the customer. Meanwhile, Lookiero takes a slightly different route, combining human stylists with algorithms to assemble a box tailored to your size, budget and preferences, with free returns as standard.
While they still involve delivery and collection, these services are designed to temper the “order three sizes and send two back” habit that has become embedded in online fashion. Mass market retailers are likewise responding to the scale of the return challenge: ASOS has introduced a personal return rate tool in its app so shoppers can see the proportion of items they send back, and applies a £3.95 charge when that rate exceeds about 70 per cent unless a minimum value of the order is kept.
There is another route that feels older and, paradoxically, more radical: tailoring and repair. Companies such as SOJO have rebuilt the alteration process for an on demand world. You book through an app or website, a courier collects the item, and a specialist team adjusts hems, waists or worn seams before returning it a few days later. Research by environmental charity WRAP suggests that for every five items repaired, four new items are not bought, extending the life of clothes that might otherwise be returned or forgotten. In a period where many households are cutting discretionary spend, extending what we already own looks likely to grow in popularity.
With new innovations across tech and real life, fashion retail is entering a more complex phase in its evolution. The changes may feel incremental, but the impact that this online addition to the shopping journey will have on businesses, customers and culture alike will be anything but. The scale of the problem to be solved, and the opportunity in solving it, is clear to see; it will be fascinating to watch businesses make progress while effectively seeking to reverse a key factor that made online shopping viable.
More than that, just as the shift to buying clothes online was a transition for the customer, so will this new era of virtual fitting rooms be. For many customers, choosing clothes is an especially personal and, at times, emotional act. Trying clothes on can be a vulnerable endeavour, as customers are effectively asked to look at their bodies in a way they wouldn’t normally need to. The privacy of an in store fitting room with flattering lighting, or the familiarity of one’s own home, has traditionally provided a sense of control over who gets to see you in those moments. Moving that experience onto a screen can feel, for some, like an extra layer of exposure – especially when data security is also added into the mix. At the same time, younger generations have grown up sharing images of themselves in far more public ways – from selfies to short form videos – so they may see little difference between posting a photo online and using one to check the fit of a jacket.
I look forward to watching the picture unfold over the year ahead.
