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A Fur Real Quandary

by Petria May

Am I the only person who remembers that artful 1990s PETA ad in which Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, and a lot of other supers famously vowed that they would rather go naked than wear fur? As I recall, Cindy recently modeled for Blackgama in black, white, beauty mark, and big fur. And Naomi doesn't seem to leave home without a piece of fur in tow.

Nowadays, the only women tarrying over the ethical consequences of wearing fur are those who remember those never-so-distant red paint PETA days. "Will I be in trouble for this?" one boutique client asked me warily. I doubt it, I said, with a high degree of certainty. Anyway, wearing a red paint splashed vintage fur could be a humorous nod to fashion history.

Just two short years ago, I was asked if my playful, orange teddy bear fur coat was real. "No, of course not," I responded curtly. True animal fur was far from my wardrobe at the time. In the interest of full disclosure, however, I did own a Belgian sweater made partly of fish leather.

These days, I seem to be in a real fur frenzy, along with the fashion industry as a whole. I am constantly looking for compelling vintage fur to display—mod fox and suede, Edwardian beaver, Victorian ermine, 1940s monkey, 1950s sheared mink, flapper era lamb, an astrakhan trench, etcetera. I cannot, it seems, stop falling for fur.

To be sure, I have not lived in such a cold climate since growing up in the Midwest. But this isn't just about me—really. Ladies have renewed their undying love for fur. And buying rare vintage pieces seems to be a way to explain away the ethical quandary that some women (and their companions) find themselves in.

The internal dialogue progresses along these lines: since said dead animal did not die for me directly, I am doing a good deed by recycling another's barbarism. Nonetheless, the coyote, leopard, squirrel, "fill-in-the-blank" creature died for human display and warmth. Okay, but that had already happened when I appeared.

I am healthful, but not a vegetarian, so why can't I wear animal if I am willing to eat it? Is a mink all that special anyway? Sometimes, it may well be the difference between road kill and a coat. You see, life gets more complicated once one lets a bit of fur into her psyche and closet. It is enough to make me wish for the days of fig leaves.

In a friend's consignment shop in Kent, Connecticut, I met a woman wearing a rather unusual looking fur. I immediately engaged in the name that fur game that is part of my life currently. After I missed the mark three times, she said, "It is something you would normally steer clear of."Suddenly, the black chocolate and white stripes seemed rather, well, ridiculous. The stylish lady of un certain �ge indeed donned skunk. Cindy's and Naomi's reversal notwithstanding, I think I'd rather go naked.

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