I haven’t gotten hate mail in weeks, so here is a column in Tablet magazine about my fur coat.Â
Hah – you did warn me not to read comments, didn’t you…
Except for the small furry dead things, I almost envy you your coat. Our family was never quite swish enough for even one for my grandmother, who lived far too close to heat and swamps all her life to bother, and there’s no chance of that now, with how rigorously anti-fur everyone is – and rightly so, I think. I feel you on that internal contradiction. It is hideous to needlessly kill something for a sense of sartorial superiority, but when you’re FREEZING, an old fur just works. Ah, well. Should the Polar Vortex strike the west, we’ll all have to take turns with my eldest sister’s moth-eaten mukluks, which she brought home after working as a social worker for a year in Nome… not superfly/ fashion forward, but they keep the feet/legs warm just the same.
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