A Terrible Confession

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Since blogging seems to have become a sort of cyber-confessional box of sorts and I’ve had some time to reflect upon my life while down with this cold, I thought I’d join the fray.

Batten down the hatches. Its a terrible, terrible thing I have to confess. In fact I’ve already confessed this in public once, resulting in shocked, horrified stares from my tablemates accompanied by sharp intakes of breath.

We were in one of those little tea joints in the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. My friend, H. remarked that she was appalled that fur coats were sold in the bazaar. A., my other friend mentioned that the coats were in fact rather beautiful and extremely nice to touch, but she’d never wear one. E. said that rabbit fur wasn’t too bad, what did Veronica think? I’m no hypocrite. I said, “Oh give me sable or some arctic fox, baby, I was born to wear fur.” After the sharp intakes of breath, it was agreed that maybe I was.

In fact, I bought my first fur, a full length raccoon coat (fire sale) with cold, hard cash earned working as a nurses’ aide in a geriatric center, when I was 18. It was a fabulous coat. I wore it everywhere, brought it with me to the Netherlands when I was 23 and never wore it again. The Dutch are terribly anti-fur and apt to throw paint at people wearing anything that looks like fur. After two pregnancies, it didn’t fit anymore so I consigned it. I think my coat went to a theater company.

Since that time, I’ve had to make due with my fur hats: one is coyote, one is mink. I wear them when it’s cold and I’m shopping in Germany. The Germans get fur. They aren’t as tragically Calvinist as the Dutch and know how to enjoy fur and life in general. While in Germany I’ve been noticing more women of my age (that certain age) in fabulous fur coats. I think I would like to own a fur again. I’m old enough to get away with it now.

But living in the Netherlands hasn’t left me unmarked; I would never wear the real fur of an endangered species. However, I have no truck with rodents and I eat veal, so mink isn’t a problem for me. But the true object of my fur-lust is a black moiré/sable reversible princess coat. I could wear the silk moiré outside when I’m here in the Netherlands and flip to the sable when I’m lunching at Caputo in Muenster or bopping around Berlin or Hamburg. I have no idea what it costs. I tried it on at Mersmann, the furrier in Muenster and didn’t dare look at the price tag. Meanwhile I’m sifting through E-bay on two continents to find a faux leopard coat that doesn’t look too faux.

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