FUR FLUNG

FUR FLUNG

I almost posted this on http://thewomensroom@typepad.com in my occasional New New Yorker slot but chickened out. Enjoy...


FEBRUARY 2010:  FUR FLUNG

Flicking through my weekly fix of star mags last week, a parade of gorgeous women looking fab in fur pinged my jealousy strings. A shot of French Vogue Editor Carine Roitfeld and Visionnaire Editor Cedilia Dean in matching, massive feathery/fur monster coats almost made me weep. Everyone wears fur in NYC, from magazine editors and models to, oh, everyone.  In a city of regular snow and zero degrees a fur coat is tempting. Padded jobbies cannot quite protcct you from the wind off the Hudson River.  I come to a decision. Forget all that right-on-PETA conscience prickling nonsense, I am going to get a fur coat.  I will put it on my credit card and pray.

 Down in New York’s fur district there lurks a pop-up shop advertised in the New York Times, selling warehouse racks full of cheap furs. I walk in and a Russian ladyboy greets me. She’s about my age, in full makeup with more whiskers than me and worn down shoes, so I take pity on her and we start looking. A black mink parka type thing catches my eye. It’s gorgeous but a hot wave of sweat and shame stings me during payment. Would I wear it in London? No. Would I show it to my friends or family? No. By the time I’ve reached my subway stop I know it will never be worn. Have I gone INSANE? As a freelance writer, alone in f-f-f-freezing New York City, fantasy has got the better of me. As the world’s biggest impulse-and-return-it shopper by the way, I resolve to return the coat. Guess what? Finally got back to the shop today and it has gone. No shop.  Lock, stock ‘n’ barrel. I paid $700 for my coat – anyone with as few scruples as me, who does not know anyone I know, interested?