I had it all planned in my heard. When moving to Norway I would buy a really nice fur. A chic grey mink – just long enough to cover my behind. I would wear it with black denim and biker boots – it would be awesome... But then this unpleasant thing happened – I grew a fur conscience, which must truly be a sign of the apocalypse or ragnarok (as we call here in northern Europe), because I really LOVED fur.
Might I add, fur-loving is in my genes, be that an excuse or not. My grandmother was on occasion (every Christmas eve) sporting a big brown mink that made her look like a huge brown bear. This coat would hang in her closet all year – only to be taken out, dusted off and worn for Christmas. On my father’s side, my grandmother had a long silver mink with a giant matching “Russian” hat. I felt great envy as a kid when putting on my good-for-nothing snowsuit while looking at all that fur glory.
But then something changed in a weird way last winter. When out walking the dogs (in my coyote fur vest) I suddenly saw a gross resemblance from the fur vest on my back - to the fur walking at the end of my leash – not a nice thought!
I have to be honest and say that my love for fur never worked well with my semi vegetarian ways (read Skinny bitch – by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin – and chances are you will change your meat-loving ways as well), so a change was welcome!
I have to be honest and say that my love for fur never worked well with my semi vegetarian ways (read Skinny bitch – by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin – and chances are you will change your meat-loving ways as well), so a change was welcome!
The final turn around came when I was out and about in Oslo just this week – I saw this picture and just stopped. This panicked mink with part of its ear bitten off was staring at me from a street poster – and all I could think about was how utterly ridicules and narcissistic fashion can be, so no fur for me!
I will bear the cold in wool and with a good fur conscience!
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