High fashion: What’s it like to rent your entire holiday wardrobe from an airline

Travelling with only a tiny carry-on suitcase for a long-haul flight is a flex.

It’s freedom. It’s relaxing on your flight without worrying that your belongings will be held up in transit. It’s breezing past baggage claim while weary passengers wait for their cases to trundle onto the carousel. It’s hopping from city to city with nary an escalator or flight of stairs you can’t handle.

But it’s also a small measure travellers can take to pack lighter, thus reducing their flight’s CO2 emissions, according to JAL (Japan Airlines). The airline has partnered with Any Wear, Anywhere, a Japan-based clothes rental service that provides low-cost clothing exclusively to JAL inbound travellers. They can choose from an as-yet limited online catalogue of clothing sets, categorised according to gender (male and female), season, style (casual, smart-casual and mix) and size (S to XL).

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During a year-long trial of the service, Any Wear Anywhere will calculate the impact it has on reducing JAL’s CO2 emissions, taking into account the environmental impact of door-to-door delivery, laundry and any other considerations. Its website states that travelling with 10kg less baggage will reduce a traveller’s CO2 emissions by 7.5kg, based on a New York-Tokyo flight.

Sounds good, right? But that number feels far less significant when you consider that the route produces around 1.7 tons of CO2 emissions per person overall, according to Curb6’s online calculator. A London-Tokyo service produces similar emissions, at around 1.5 tons per passenger. Although travelling lighter is certainly a step in the right direction, perhaps we shouldn’t pat ourselves too hard on the back just yet. The impact on reducing our individual carbon footprint is minimal and, even if it’s adopted en masse, it’s unlikely to put a dent in the significant emissions the aviation industry is responsible for.

Beyond carbon, though, Any Wear, Anywear wants to address the waste in the fashion industry by sourcing all of its clothing from brands and second-hand sellers that may otherwise bin their clothes. Who among us wouldn’t sheepishly raise our hand when asked if we’d ever bought questionable fast-fashion items to wear on holiday, only for them to be banished to the back of the wardrobe upon our return?

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Holiday rental clothing does seem like a smart solution in light of this, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it’s practical. My first qualm was sizing. I live in Japan and know all too well the frustrations of finding clothes in my style and my size – my UK size 10-12 frame translates to Large in Japan. So, in the name of journalism, I decided to (literally) try the scheme on for size, forgoing the flight and renting Any Wear, Anywhere’s men’s and women’s sets of smart-casual clothes for my boyfriend, Kazutaka, and me.

The impeccably packaged sets were delivered by a third-party courier to my doorstep, bright and early on the day I’d requested them to arrive. Inbound travellers can choose from a selection of sets, but I’d left the decision to the Any Wear, Anywhere team. I’d expected Uniqlo-esque bland basics: a white T-shirt, some black trousers and a beige linen dress perhaps. But, as I pulled out a men’s Elmer the Elephant polo shirt from my boyfriend’s set, I realised my error. The clothes are sourced from brands and second-hand sellers to offer an alternative to discarding them; the result is that some of the sets have more, ahem, personality than you might expect.

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I’d picked an L size for me and both an M and an L for Kazutaka, although, in retrospect, an XL would have been the better choice. The collections aren’t size inclusive and, in fact, are far less accommodating than your average high street store. According to Any Wear, Anywhere, this is an issue that will be addressed once the trial phase is over. For now, it’s going to have a considerable impact on the number of people who can take part in the scheme. While every item in my set fit me, albeit some more snugly than others, Kazutaka had less choice; across the two sets, only one pair of trousers fit, a beige 3/4 length pair with a drop crotch, and four tops. (Sadly the Elmer shirt wasn’t one of them.)

For our first day out in our rental clothing, I opted for the outfit most aligned with my style: a slouchy and inconspicuous pairing of a biscuit beige oversized light knit top and a pair of navy blue elasticated waist trousers. In the heat of a Tokyo summer, knits wouldn’t typically be in my rotation, but it was an otherwise solid outfit.

Kaz wore his drop-crotch trousers and a high-quality black t-shirt with a zipped shoulder that was edgier than he’d typically wear. “I’m 47, Gaby,” he said, sadly shaking his head as he slipped on the trousers. As we walked, he moaned, “I feel like I’m naked. There’s too much space inside.” But, as the day wore on and the rest of the city withered in the heat, his initial hesitations dissipated. “Oooh, they’re really cool inside.” A surprise success?

The next day, I opted for the same navy trousers teamed with a pink Ralph Lauren polo shirt, clearly labelled with an S for small, despite being part of my Large collection. A little tight around the biceps, but otherwise it fit. Out of habit, I tucked the shirt into my trousers and immediately embodied the spirit of my high school P.E. teacher, Miss Brown. I popped the collar to really nail her look. I felt sporty. I felt authoritative. Though not my style, this was a character I could enjoy playing for the day. Consider me a summer day polo shirt convert; they’re so easy and breezy, I was ready for anything.

Kaz opted for his trusty harem pants and a white t-shirt with camouflage trim. This, along with the Tommy Hilfiger polo he wore a few days later, are tops that wouldn’t be out of place in his usual wardrobe; low-key and comfortable.

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On the final day of our clothes rental, we opened the wardrobe with sad resignation at the prospect of putting on the pieces we’d put off wearing until there were no other options left. I slipped on a pair of grey trousers that strained at the seams around my bum and thighs, plus a frilly sheer white top that made me feel like Jerry Seinfeld in the puffy shirt episode. Of the five items of clothing I rented, this is the only one I was truly embarrassed to be seen in. Too frou frou. Too fussy. Kaz’s oversized shirt was even more of a statement piece, with its print of Rembrandt’s The Night Watch. We were both keen to get home and change as soon as possible.

I hadn’t expected a flouncy top to make me confront my vanity. Until now, I’d unquestioningly prioritised Insta-worthy outfits over sustainable style, whether on holiday or at home. In the past, I’ve bought outfits especially for a trip, I’ve unthinkingly overpacked, and I’ve purchased garments I know deep down I’ll probably never wear again. This experience challenged me to rethink some of that thoughtless consumerism.

Despite my rental set having a few pieces that weren’t aesthetically (or anatomically) aligned with me, I would absolutely rent my clothes for a holiday in the future and forgo checking in a bag. Although I’d probably pack a few safety staples of my own – in my hand luggage, course.

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