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Elayne Boosler Headshot

Fur Is Back

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I was walking along Canal Street about two in the morning, quietly sidestepping the dozing denizens in their This Side Up condos, when I saw her. She was a ruddy, hardy soul, lying against the Chemical Bank Building, braving the elements; magnesium, cobalt, counterfeit Gucci handbags, cold, and wind. And why not? She was wearing Fendi's new phantom dyed Canadian sheared mink hooded sweatshirt, also available in onyx and mahogany.

"Wow", I said. "You really have turned your back on society."

"Couldn't think of a clearer way to say it than this. Oh I tried the usual; drugs, alcohol, eight hundred dollar tasting menus with wild boar, ostrich, and some pointy fish that'll paralyze you if you bite it wrong. But you know what? Nothing disses like fur."

"If you really want to show your disdain for civilization, why not a full length coat?"

"No, no. Any lightweight can rationalize a coat. You see those rappers at the Grammy's? Furred out head to toe. I thought BMG signed a family of bears who were up for Album of the Year. Coats are for amateurs. But a fur miniskirt, fur shoelace tips and fur wallets, a designer catalogue that has you playing catch in a lavender or aquamarine dyed died bolero, now that, that says to the world,
""Don't bother me, I'm eating"". I strive for clarity, and you get two seconds to make an impression in this crazy life. Nothing else says so clearly, ""I don't give a damn about anything or anyone but me and I don't care who knows it.""

"Communication is an art", I agreed. She continued,

"I was sleeping on an interesting article. It said, ""In London, Boudicca showed a collection sponsored by American Express which was covered up, except for the occasional nipple bared underneath a fur tabard. The collection was a modest vision of the urban woman's uniform."" I was gonna look up "tabard", but then I decided to look up "modest". Anyway, when I snuck into King Kong last year, he was wearing the same thing."

"You could end up an outcast", I said.

"Oh no. I got peeps. Me, and Karl Lagerfeld, and Narcissist (sp?) Rodrigues, and Randolph Duke for Halston (""House of Death, hold please""), and Guillaume Poupart for Ben Kahn (""It's not just a fur, it's Poop Art""), and Naomi Campbell, and all those rappers tricked out like Zsa Zsa Gabor, and all those models wearing Fendi on the runway, we're all one."

"What about PETA?"

"They have very good brochures. They're lining my shoes as we speak. "

"What about the torture?"

"If Rumsfeld didn't mind, why should I? Besides, you want women in five inch high heeled sling back Manolo Blahniks to care about leg traps?"

"But the activists.."

"They have to be active, they're freezing. Seriously, everybody knows fur has nothing to do with keeping warm. What does an animal need a fur coat for anyway? I've never seen an ocelot make an entrance at MOMA, have you? Hey, I'd rather fight Mike Tyson than Anna Wintour. That woman wears chinchilla in the spring!"

"How tough is she?"

"Don't set me up. You doubt fur sends a message, then I have just one very exciting word to say to you; ""Bijan!"" Now that guy knows fur. Have you ever seen his expression on his billboards? You'd swear he was being anally electrocuted right there. And by appointment only! Hey, screw society, screw compassion, screw correctness political or otherwise. Give me Isaac Mizrahi's beaver trimmed natural otter bicycle shorts with matching dyed lynx hair bow. Give me cheetah dish towels and leather soup bowls. Give me Klein-Lauren Hamptons inspired Western cougar pillow shams! Only cowboys from Brooklyn know how to re-interpret jaguar t-shirts. I'm sick to death of hypocrisy. Martha Stewart is worth a billion. Why the hell is she on tv talking to people about ironing? In English! "

"You seem a little bitter."

"All dressed up and nowhere to go."