Friday, 20 February 2009

Chapter 2 (in which I ponder dead things)

I don’t wear much fur at the moment. This is not because I don’t love it (I do!) or because I’m warm enough (I’m not!), but rather because it’s February. I’m tired. SAD has set in. And I just can’t face bitching with people at the moment.

I know for a fact that some fur is bad. You shouldn’t buy fur from animals reared in horrible conditions purely for their skin. That’s not cool, you know that, I know that.

But buying vintage fur is fantastic – the quality of the fur is often amazing, and you know that the chances of the piece being the product of a large, polluting, sadistic industry lessen with age. Plus – throwing away or destroying something which an animal has lost its life for – that’s disrespectful in my book.

Sometimes the line does get blurred. I’ve recently (and accidentally) bought a hat made from what looks like oscelot fur. This is tricky, because it’s an endangered species, and was made so in the 1980s.

Look how pretty:

So… I can’t sell the hat unless I can satisfy myself that I know where and how it was produced, but I could wear it myself, because:
a) It’s totally pretty.
b) It died years ago. Isn’t it better that it warms my head than gets thrown away?

On a similar note, these A-team squirrels are absolutely fantastic.

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