My mother was born in 1930 and she had a short fur cape. It must have been a big thing back then. I hated it. I have never worn fur – that I know of. You never really knew about fur-like trim on garments before the advent of detailed clothing labels. I have never really liked faux fur either. It looks too real for me.
Growing up in Africa, you never really saw fur coats, though I did notice quite a few when I came to the cold climes of northern Europe. Russian tourists often used to wear them, and there were quite a few ‘fur storage’ facilities in Stockholm, which would store your furs for the summer. I am not sure how many of these storage places are left. I learned that real fur really protects against the cold, so it would have been a necessity in rural areas in times gone by.
What I have noticed this winter is that quite a few young people (Generation Z I would say, though I am not great with ages) are wearing fur. Whether it is real or not I am not sure, but I have seen second hand stores selling real fur. I asked about it and was told that fake fur has plastic in it, so young people are choosing to recycle real furs rather than wear ‘plastic’. They feel it is the more ethical choice, as the fur was already in circulation. Apparently the real fur coats sell fast. I still wouldn’t wear one, though I wouldn’t judge someone in a second hand one.
It’s all a difficult dilemma. Do we honour the creatures who were killed (invariably brutally and often after cruel farming) to give us their skin, teeth and bone by using and celebrating their lives, or is the risk of encouraging the re-emergence of the mistreatment too great?
I have a beautiful, white, shoulder cape that belonged to my triple great aunt back in the 1920s. It’s in beautiful condition, but I have never had a suitable occasion to wear it, nor the ability to dispose of it, so it stays carefully packed in our loft.
I remember being totally freaked out when I was little by my great aunt having a real fur coat. I always had to take the wretched thing upstairs whenever she and my great uncle came visiting. It was an interesting status symbol thing for them. Working class couple with no kids, but my great uncle was a station master at a railway station – a definite well-regarded job at the time (50 or so years ago). He bought my great aunt the fur coat and a set of Le Creuset saucepans (which she couldn’t lift easily as she was a tiny little thing) – a mark of the money he was earning.
It must have been that way in those days. My grandmother had a furry throw thing on her bed. Not sure what it was made of but that also freaked me out. She told me that it was very warm, and she had used it when she was in poverty.