Duties, Tariffs and the Wallet that Met the Complexity Dragon
The story began with a little brown crossbody bag I bought aboard the Celebrity Ascent during our late June to early July Mediterranean cruise. It was a Coccinelle—just the right size for travel—and the salesperson told me it was made in Italy.
Later, I found the small tag inside: Made in PRC, the People’s Republic of China.
I wasn’t upset that the bag was made in China. I liked it, and the quality spoke for itself. I was upset that I’d been told something different before I bought it. I went back to the shop and told a salesperson they should be careful with that language. “Italian brand,” “Italian leather,” and “made in Italy” are three different claims. A customer deserves to know which one is true for the item in her hands.
A few days later, our ship stopped near Taormina, Sicily. I walked into a Coccinelle store and found a pale handbag I loved. The leather felt beautiful and the bag was exceptionally well made. This time I asked directly whether it was made in Italy. The saleswoman answered more generally: Coccinelle was an Italian brand. That much was true. The company was founded in Italy in 1978.
I bought the bag anyway. I also came home with an appreciation for the brand—and a little more attention to the difference between a brand’s story and a product’s story.
Of course, my shopping dragon wasn’t finished. Once she decides she loves something, she starts wondering whether it comes in other shapes and colors. I found a larger dark red Coccinelle crossbody, new with tags, on The RealReal at a great price. Then the Taormina bag seemed to need a matching wallet. If one makes me happy, apparently three bags and a wallet might make me euphoric. Retailers understand this dragon very well.
The wallet cost $145 and shipped to me from Italy. Its tag also says Made in PRC. My best guess is that it came from an Italian store or warehouse, but I don’t know where it traveled before that. Did Italian leather go to China for manufacturing? Did the finished wallet return to Italy before being shipped to Florida? What costs were added along the way and folded into the price I paid?
I could see one part of the journey when the FedEx bill arrived. The U.S. customs entry showed a 10% tariff rate applied to the wallet’s $145 declared value, producing $14.50 in duty. FedEx added a $17.50 fee for its role in handling the import and payment. My bill totaled $32.
Then I looked at the entry more closely. It listed Italy as the country of origin and described the item as a handbag. The wallet’s Made in PRC tag and those entries leave me with questions I can’t settle from the documents I received. I’d like to understand how they were determined.
Meanwhile, the billing had developed a journey of its own. The first packet was nine pages. A second nine-page packet arrived within two weeks, marked past due. I mailed my University of Florida check for $32. Then a third nine-page packet arrived after I’d mailed it. There wasn’t an online payment option.
Twenty-seven pages for one $32 bill.
I understand why imports require records. Someone must identify the goods, apply the rules, collect the duty, and account for the money. FedEx performed a service when it handled that process. Yet I couldn’t help wondering what it cost everyone involved to prepare, process, print, mail, receive, and reconcile three packets about duties and tariffs on one wallet. There is nothing that feels free about this trade process.
The more I followed the paperwork, the more it reminded me of that first conversation on the ship. In both cases, information existed somewhere in the system. The tag could tell me where the crossbody was made. The customs record could tell me how the wallet was declared. The invoice could tell me what I owed. But I had to piece together the story myself, and some of the pieces still don’t fit.
What would this experience look like if the customer could see a clear description of the product and its likely total cost before buying it? If the duty and FedEx fee were explained in plain language? If one payment notice and a timely update could do the work of twenty-seven pages?
I still love my bags and wallet. My shopping dragon played her part in this story, too. But one ordinary purchase passed through the hands of people making, selling, moving, regulating, billing, and buying it. When the information is unclear or a payment triggers yet another packet, someone at every handoff has more work to do.
Each step may make sense to the person responsible for it. Taken together, they gave the economic dragon twenty-seven pages to carry for a $32 bill.
So I’d ask everyone who touches this process one simple question: What part of it seems ridiculous from where you sit?
That includes the people who write the rules. In 2016, the United States raised its de minimis exemption from $200 to $800, allowing many small shipments to enter without duty. On August 29, 2025, duty-free treatment for shipments valued at $800 or less was suspended. That change helped bring my $145 wallet into the duty-collection process.
Here the governance dragon meets the economic dragon. Is the duty collected on a small purchase worth the work of assessing, advancing, billing, and reconciling it? Would a sensible low-value exemption reduce that burden? And whatever the policy, could shoppers get clearer product information and a fuller price at checkout, followed by one plain bill and a payment update that stops the next mailing?
Those answers could take some weight off the people doing the work—and perhaps enough paper off the dragon’s back to let it fly.