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.
http://thesquirrelshole.com/

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

Chapter 1 - part the second (where I forget about my troubles and think of the pretty clothes)

Shoot for eventual website with vintage goodies. Lovely Z looking like a movie star.








See this hat? Do you see? It has actual magical powers and makes anyone in its vincinity experience actual happiness!
It must be made from some extinct, madly extatic animal. I imagine some sort of joyous weasel with solid gold teeth, living off truffles and champagne.
I know I will probably have to sell this one day (what with the selling things and eventually making some money being the main idea behind setting up a shop), but before then I must devise a way of bottling whatever blissfull essence it exudes.