Ask a Texan how far it is to Austin, and you might hear him say, “It’s a fur piece,” meaning it’s 50 miles. Marble Falls is not a fur piece, but distance is not my topic today, nor is a toupee. I am speaking of the formerly live animal, perhaps hanging in your closet. Last week on an outing to Austin on a cool night, I grabbed a black lamb stroller to pop on with tall black boots. I could have been rockin’ the Audrey Hepburn look (with a few more pounds than Audrey) had I gone to the trouble of applying false eyelashes, red lipstick, and borrowed a cigarette holder (and a cigarette). Ah, the 60s were so glamorous. Furs AND cigarettes were everywhere. One killed the animals, and the other killed us.
As I stepped onto the curb in downtown Austin wearing my Lammy Pie coat, a wave of consciousness came over me and whispered, “Honey, perhaps you should have worn wool. After all, you are in Austin.” My girlfriend whispered, “Let’s sit in a booth so you can hide that thing.” Are we in the land of the hypocrites? No one thinks a dad-burned minute about wearing leather shoes which require sacrificing cows, but put a fur on and the socially conscious holler foul. I don’t get it. I love fur.
Although I love old furs, I don’t always love their inherited style. But, being a former Home Ec teacher, I am not afraid to take something apart. I will admit, though, it isn’t easy. No one wanted my Aunt Byron’s Russian squirrel, so I put my little hand in the air and said, “I’ll take it!” Full length and the color of mahogany, I had watched my great aunt wear that coat to the church house in the winter, and since she was my piano teacher, I knew she sent it to “cold storage” every summer. She loved that wrap better than Dr. Pepper, and I decided I would like it, too, but it would need remodeling into a vest so I could wear it with jeans to the Houston Livestock Show.
If you EVER get the lame-brained idea to cut into a fur coat, let me advise you to do it outdoors. It doesn’t matter if you do remove the lining and cut from the leather side of the garment, the term “let the fur fly” will quite literally smack you in the face. Fur got in my nose, mouth, and eyes, and caused me to sneeze, snort and cry. It was a good thing Aunt Byron was already dead because she would have killed me for cutting up her coat. I added a fox collar and trim above the arm holes and, Voila! I had a cute vest to wear with jeans. Although the original pockets are high on my chest, the coat was so well made they aren’t noticeable, and are the perfect place to pop a Kleenex and lipstick.
Families with vintage fur coats, jackets, and stoles are grappling with a generational divide over the social and political view of furs. Gucci, Prada, and other fashion houses have sworn off fur. Of course, California is seeking to ban new fur clothes and accessories. San Francisco’s ban went into effect this month. Well, somebody’s buying it because the International Fur Federation estimated $30 billion in sales last year.
