Furry Pretty Things

I have decided that the unbearable cold of the Northeast makes you wear things that anywhere else, you wouldn’t be caught dead in. Only weather that drops into the single digits several times a month can cause you to look at a fox or a rabbit gallivanting through Central Park and think, “That’s cute, but you know what would be even better? If I were wearing it as a coat.”

I realize my hypocrisy, being a meat-eater who also strongly disapproves of wearing fur, but hey.  Consistency, I'm told, is the hobgoblin of little minds.  Which means my mind must be positively giant.

That’s not to say that I can’t understand the allure of wearing fur.  I mean, my god, it's so soft!  My friend once let me hold his pet chinchilla, a beast with fur as soft as a baby's skin (if a baby's skin were as soft as a chinchilla's fur).  And when I felt the fur I would be lying if I said I hadn't started formulating a plan to steal this chinchilla, skin it and take it to a tailor so that it could be made into a coat or a blanket or, given that I only had one of them, a bib of some sort.

Because nothing says “fashion” like a dead animal draped around your neck.

I came to my senses and realized that perhaps this chinchilla needed its fur more than I.  But some people don't think that way.

On my way home for the night a few weeks ago, I walked into a conversation between what appeared to be two coworkers in the elevator. One was a tall but rather rotund middle-aged man, and the other was a short, dark-skinned woman. It was January, so they were both decked out in their full winter regalia: gloves, scarves, earmuffs, a long, flowing coat on her, and a thick, puffy jacket on him.

As the elevator began to descend, she turned to him: “Did you see Suzanne today?”

“No,” he said.

“Believe me, you should have. She was wearing a fox pelt around her neck. It had the head on and everything. Little legs hanging off her shoulders. I couldn’t believe it! Who’d wear an animal like that?”

“Hmm,” the man said as he peered down at her. He pointed to her coat: “But isn’t that a fur coat?”

“Well, yes,” she said, indignantly, “but at least you can't see the heads.”