Last night it was freezing cold in LA, so I threw on a fur coat before going on a cigarette run. It was this amazing, sable swing coat that perfectly complimented my newly-dyed, honey blonde locks. As I was walking from the gas station to my car, Marlboro Lights carton tucked under my arm, a crazy dreadlocked weirdo in a Prius drove by me screaming “FUR IS MURDER” and spit at me. Thankfully, he missed, but I still sent my sable to get steamed today because who knows what sort of quinoa saliva flecks might have dusted it’s delicate mane?
Let’s be clear on one thing. Fur is not murder. Fur is fur. Period. Do not get me fucking started on PETA and their bullshit. I’m so sick of it. As an animal lover, I invest in/inherit vintage furs, and I try to avoid purchasing new fur products as often as possible. This is called being aware. That being said, I’m forced to make exceptions from time to time (owning a creamsicle, shearling cocoon coat from Sonia Rykiel’s f/w 2012 collection was a must). I’m very anti-murder of living creatures for fashion’s sake, but this is real life, and “murder” happens all the time. If fur is going to be produced, and sheep/raccoons/mink/beavers are going to die in order to be turned into amazing coats or hats, I’m of the opinion that they shouldn’t have sacrificed their lives only to have judgement thrown at their beautiful, dead pelts.
Also, while I’m ranting, I want to say that I’m over seeing heinous fake furs. When done correctly, fake fur can be chic, but most of the time it’s sick, and I’m pretty sure modacrylic polymers can cause cancer, just saying. So I urge you all to join me in a new initiative I’m launching today that speaks to what fur really is: fur. Say it with me: FUR IS FUR! FUR IS FUR! Now tell that to every hippie psycho that tries to hate on you and your vintage YSL mongolian fur coat.