The fur dilemma


Another trip to Portobello yesterday in almost-spring sunshine and minus the Saturday crowds. I went to One Of A Kind, the vintage shop I have never been into before. Guess what? I liked it! I ‘ve deliberately avoided it til now being anti-hype and it always seemed a bit too…up itself. But it had some great stuff, and nicely displayed but pricey. Under the Westway I saw some cute velvet bowties and by Acklam Street a selection of very-nice-indeed saddle bags and not too expensive either.

Then I saw it. A very Desperately-Seeking-Susan-style cropped snakeskin-print suede jacket (you know, the scene where she goes in the vintage store and he says ‘that jacket belonged to Jimi Hendrix’). Very Antony Price but it had four real fur tails hanging from it. I really am a hypocrite when it comes to fur. On the one hand I know it’s cruel, even if it’s vintage. There’s just no excuse and I know wearing any kind of real fur sends the message to impressionable people that it’s ‘OK’. It’s not even to keep me warm (the usual excuse I trot out when I wear my ‘extreme weather’ Russian fur Ushanka). On the other hand, although it’s wrong sometimes I just can’t resist it – say what you like, fake fur just isn’t the same. So I tried on the jacket and the shoulders were a mite too big but hey, it was £35! I deliberated for all of two minutes. Now I’ve got it home, tried it on with my Nudie Slim Kim jeans and Tony Mora ocelot cowboy boots (oops, more fur) I think I can make it work. I just need to take the shoulders in …and get rid of the mothballs stink.

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