Winter is Coming

by Valerie on Tuesday, August 1, 2017


To fur or not to fur? About a year ago, I placed the highest bid on eBay for this vintage fur coat from the 1960s. It was something that I mulled over for a while. Going back and forth in my head, trying to psyche myself into taking the snipe. Upon winning the auction, I made a list of pros and cons trying to rationalize the purchase, still not convinced it was the right decision. It went something like:

-it’s secondhand/not creating more waste
-at $75, it’s considerably more affordable than paying premium for quality outerwear
-it’ll keep you warmer than the only other down coat in your wardrobe
-it speaks to your inner Margot Tenenbaum
-you are not Kanye

-can easily be mistaken for a modern coat
-thus perpetuating the real fur runway trend
-may trigger holier-than-thou confrontations from random vegans (is it safe to assume us non-vegans have all had one of those?)
-carrying around the constant fear of being blood bombed by PeTA enthusiast while wearing in public
-you are not Kanye

The coat, it had random tears along some of its pelts. The lining, discoloured and unraveling along the collar. And my god, the smell. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love salvaging these worn out vintage pieces so that they become whole again. Potential is such a beautiful word. Thrift stores are overrun with beautiful gems that just need a little polishing. With enough time, energy and love they could be like new again. Well, that and maybe a quick tumble with Dryel. What you’re left with is something that could last for 20 years to come. Something you could appreciate more because you put in the work for it. It seems like a reasonable alternative in a sea of mass-produced, sweatshop-made, fast fashion synthetics. Loved for a day and then thrown away.

But I also find myself asking why I’m still hesitant to pack it in my luggage during cold weather trips abroad. Or how come it feels more offensive to wear than say, to enjoy the taste of a medium rare steak or to prance around in a pair of leather boots—both are convictions that I can own up to. Still, I haven’t worked up enough courage yet to don something so decadent outside. So until then, it’s having to settle for a humble down and complain about how much I hate the cold, burrr.


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