Such a great word for a horrible thing, no?
I've had a very torrid relationship with fur.
When i was younger and oh-so-righteous, i apparently used to harass my father who had a Russian rabbit fur hat. He told me it was fake; I refused to let him wear it in my presence.
About a year ago, i had the hugest penchant to get. my. hands. on. that. hat. I called him, he said no way. And besides, he had given it to my brother for the arctic temperatures of Michigan. Erik: you are the most stylish boy on campus and I WANT THAT HAT. I am no longer righteous. And i like rabbit ravioli.
See, somewhere between then and now, my adamant distaste for fur, well, reversed. I started buying vintage fur coats on trips to Paris and stuffing them in my luggage, which now look like puppy carriers. I have three coats that allow no room for anything else in my closet. But am I fearful of angry fur protesters? Luckily i live in Harlem, where EVERYONE wears fur (that's men, women, and children).
In the building where i work, i was once told that our souped-up security was a relatively new phenomenon. Not because our building is the notoriously souped-up arbiters of luxury, but because of the need to protect one bobbed-fur-loving-woman from angry, angry PETA members.
See the story below from NYMag:
Perhaps PETA skipped New York Fashion Week to save some energy for Paris Fashion Week. In a noisy protest outside Jean Paul Gaultier's show, they threw eggs at editors entering the show and ripped the sleeve of French Vogue editor Carine Roitfeld's Balenciaga dress in an attempted attack on her lilac goat-fur coat. “I am a fashion martyr now,” Carine said. But, were they soy eggs?
Gotta give it to Carine: I love her quote, she handles la tragedie with such aplomb. Plus, its not like Nicolas won't replace it right away...
(photos from Garance Dore, neither of them is the wounded Carine, but you know what she looks like. Bandaids and all)
