I am in the throes of a moral dilemma and it’s a case of life and death, literally.
The problem is fur.
I love it. I love the look of it. I love the feel of it. I love wearing it. I love sleeping underneath it. I love putting it on naked.
I may be turning into a cave person.
At least the cave people had justifications: the animals that died to clothe them were killed out of necessity, not narcissism.
In a modern world, this is clearly not the case. There are synthetics which offer equal warmth (they claim), indistinguishable aesthetic (they pretend), and at a lower price point. But these claims are flat out lies.
There’s nothing as warm as my rabbit mittens or fox fur hood. There are no slippers as cozy as my shearling moccasins. And as for the look, let’s not insult each other’s intelligence. I can spot faux fur as easily as a Cooch handbag.
Yet even within my own protestations I can indicate the desperate tones of justification. The fact is, I feel bad.
I’m an animal lover. A pet owner. I even experiment with vegetarianism. So how is it that the number of pelts in my possession is consistently increasing?
I will blame the phenomenon predominantly on my obsession with authenticity. I don’t want something that looks like something else. I want the real thing. When you lose something’s authenticity, you betray the essence of ownership. We can all go out and buy a fake Picasso just as easily as you can imitate a designer label.
So the question becomes: what is it that you’re willing to pay for, and why do you buy what you buy. People of means buy fancy things because they look better, feel better, and are made better than less expensive options. Your Payless pumps won’t last for five years of daily wear, but your Pucci ones might.
In contrast, if you’re pretending to own something you can’t afford, there are gonna be other indications that you’re a faker. People with Louis Vuitton luggage don’t drive Saturns. They just don’t.
Of course it’s different with fur because it’s not only a question of authenticity, but for many people a question of morality, and of humanity. No, there is no aesthetic or tangible synthetic equivalent to real fur. But it costs a life, and possibly a good deal of suffering. And no, I don’t think that my curling up with my coat is a fair justification for that.
And though I can tell myself that while wrapped in fur I’m being ‘earthy’, ‘organic’, and ‘fundamental’, I fear I may just be being a bitch.
I’m not necessarily going to win this battle within myself, nor am I going to stop wearing the fur that I have, though I may enact a personal embargo on further purchases.
