Adorable creature … or a fashion symbol?

Mar 17 2008 by Katie Campling, Huddersfield Daily Examiner

NOT so long ago I was rummaging through my gran’s wardrobe, rooting to find some old bits and bobs – her closet is a vintage goldmine.

I stumbled across some beautiful pieces, a Chanel-look quilted bag, black-patent with a gold chain strap. Then some shiny-black stone clip-on earrings with a rusty gold frame, amongst a large collection of antique rings and endless numbers of silky scarves.

Then, in the next drawer, something smooth, soft and furry. I pulled out what appeared to be a dead fox.

It was in fact a mink shawl, with a head, including all the obvious – eyes, a nose and a mouth that quite horrifically gripped onto its own tail, which again was in perfect mink form.

Following on from the head, two small paws, with pads and claws, which appeared again on the back legs. The body was thin and limp, lifeless.

Holding the shawl I turned to my gran and she smiled. Being the dedicated vegetarian, it’s hard to believe that people will eat animals. But to wear them, especially in this form, is ghastly.

My friend owns a rabbit fur coat, it feels luxurious and looks magnificent. I would never wear it and would much rather go and find a faux fur jacket at half the price knowing an animal had not lost its life for my own vanity.

The difference between the rabbit coat and the mink shawl is that the coat doesn’t have a head sticking out of one arm or a tail attached to the back.

My gran explained that this shawl, along with various others in that drawer, had been passed down from her grandmother-in-law.

My great-great-grandmother had worn these quite often, ‘many a lady had’ I was assured. Apparently they were all the rage in the 1920s and 30s.

The image of the mink’s head didn’t leave my memory for quite some time and when I told friends back at university, they too were shocked at the thought of wearing a dead animal’s head and tail around their shoulders.

Even my friend who owns the rabbit coat was slightly mortified at this idea.

Nowadays, this would be seen as socially unacceptable. It wouldn’t be breaking the law to sport this shawl on the high street but it would be breaking an unwritten social rule.

Depending on where and who I bumped into, I may even get a bucket of red paint thrown over me.

Whereas as I’m sure my great-great-grandmother Katherine Shaw was admired by her peers as she waltzed through the crowds on the high street.

The dead animal flung around her shoulders was a celebration of fashion, class and style. Only a niche minority would have questioned and disapproved of this. Today, however, even my meat-loving friends who would quite happily tuck into a beef burger or a turkey roast meal would find it questionable if I turned up wearing an animal’s head and tail. This would certainly not be seen as celebrating my fashion, class or least of all style, more so my sanity.

Fur today is a highly controversial issue – numerous catwalks have been destroyed by animal protection societies. The growth of faux fur alone demonstrates precisely just how unacceptable real fur is nowadays.

The mink shawl in my gran’s wardrobe is a symbol that represents just how much fashion can be a mirror that reflects changes in society.

But sometimes changes come back around. Some believe it is now ok, even socially acceptable, to wear real fur garments as long as you stumbled across it in a vintage or charity shop, or like me, your gran’s closet.

Their point being that by wearing this recycled version you have prevented the need for a brand new fur piece to be produced. You have in effect, saved an animal’s life, they say.

More recently I visited a vintage fair with this in mind and, as luck would have it, there I found a soft, grey fur jacket. It was undeniably beautiful, my rabbit-fur-coat owning friend encouraged me to try it on, so I did. It fitted perfectly and looked fabulous, so I gave in to the temptation of vanity and struck a deal with the retailer, taking jacket away for £20.

My friends were shocked – those meat-loving carnivores faces’ were a sight of hypocrisy. The jacket hung in my room and I sat and stared at it. Despite the freezing cold weather outside, I still couldn’t bring myself to wear it.

Although for that split second at the fair my vanity outweighed my conscience, the aftermath had sunk in.

After a week of looking at it, trying it on and then taking it straight off, enough was enough. It felt as though there was an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other.

One part of me believed the animal was not killed for me specifically to wear this coat, I was just re-using it, preventing another one being made.

The lady who sold me the coat reassured me about the fact that faux fur is such a high quality today that I could attempt to convince people it was actually a very good fake.

It didn’t work. The following week I took the jacket to a local vintage store and received my £20 back.

In a twisted turn of fate, two days later I saw a faux fur brown jacket being modelled on the mannequin in a charity shop.

It was a bargain £9 and I wear it quite frequently in this nippy weather – knowing full-well it is a fake doesn’t make me feel like a fake.

The debate will go on, opinions differing as times change. In years to come, will we have banned the use of fur in fashion altogether or will be re-living the past and wearing it daily? Only time will tell.