Fur or Foe?


As an animal lover I’ve always been opposed to wearing fur, but inheriting my Granny’s beautiful rabbit fur jacket somehow made it different.

It represents my glam Granny’s style and is so elegant, soft and warm that it would be wrong to leave it sitting in the wardrobe.  I’m petrified of losing it, so I never wear it, but Christmas Eve in snowy Dublin city centre was the perfect time to bring it out. PETA have to take some time off some time, don’t they?!

It’s always a bit scary wearing something controversial for the first time. Like the first time someone wore UGGs or parachute pants. You begin to wonder if you’re fashion forward or fashion victim. Luckily, I mainly received positive responses. I think those who opposed just held their tongues. The key to converting the skeptics is to ask them to feel it.

I was standing in The Duke talking to two guys and a girl, clutching my expensive jacket for dear life and chatting about how great New York is when I starting stroking the fur. My friend Jill then began stroking it and soon I realized that the two lads were too. “Eh, why are you stroking my jacket?” They didn’t even realize that they were doing it, such is the power of the allure of the fur.

From what I gathered that evening, most men don’t know what to make of it. They can’t tell if it’s real or fake, if it’s cool to be wearing fur or if I’m totally mad. The only negative comment I got was from my friend Andrew who told me his respect for me had gone from his forehead to his chest, by wearing fur. Another friend told me she didn’t see the difference between wearing fur and leather, as she cuddled up to her Camden Market fur. I told her it was because they skin the animals while they’re still alive so that they don’t damage the fur. She didn’t want to hear any more. Ignorance is bliss.

Arriving home on Christmas Eve I was quite proud of my jacket’s outing. I had even managed to hide at the back of the crowd when I saw U2’s Bono busking on Grafton Street. He surely would have had a can of red paint at the ready.

All in all it had been a success, such a success that I decided to wear it to mass on Christmas Day. I wasn’t the only one with this idea. The ladies of Donnybrook have some collection of furs. There were all shapes, shades, and animals. Ankle length seemed to be the “it” length to have. My jacket was only an amateur attempt at entering the D4 fur brigade. How sad. Having said that, I was probably the only person under fifty with an animal on their back. That brought me down a few pegs. And so, the rabbits retired to my wardrobe to await their Christmas outing next year, delighted to have escaped the wrath of the public for another twelve months.


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