San Francisco Sentinel
November 30, 1989
Fake Fur Rules! Ok?
By Doris Fish
Having dated quite a few dogs in my time (not currently darling), it’s only natural that I would feel empathy for animal rights activists. I cheered when I saw them on the news the day after Thanksgiving giving those shoppers hell. Poor little mums in their winter coats with a bit of moth-eaten mink or bunny on the collar, being harassed by strident types while struggling with their cranky husband and destined-to-be-returned gifts.
Wearing fur is akin to chopping down a rain forest or eating veal. If the 60s meant anything to you (the decade of false lashes and heavy black eyeliner? The most meaningful decade of the century!), then this fur business, or rather “not fur” is a logical cause, unless you’ve become like Tina, the subject of the famous graffiti, “Fuck the seals! Tina wants a new coat!”
My favorite coat is “fur”. It’s a fake fur coat, of course. It’s day-glo lime green, one-of-a-kind, and I wouldn’t trade it for any mink coat on the planet. I also have one in hot pink and another in orange. The paradox of my brown-rice lifestyle is the more basic and natural my diet becomes (seaweed and turnip soup! Yum!), the more unnatural my closet becomes. My fake furs, “One could get leukemia just looking at you in that, Doris,” as a friend commented; my tinsel boas (I’ve recently discarded all my old, feathered items); my imitation “leather” jacket, and all my famous plastic jewels (not even a pretension to glass) give gaudy evidence that I’m now more fake than ever.
Miss X has also eschewed her mother’s old forties furs for more fashionable fakes, though Miss X’s “furs” have not caused bathmats to become an endangered species. She’s definitely old-style glamour, and for her to have adopted this non-violent fashion says, in a voice that carries, “Fake Fur Rules!”
We’ll you might say it’s just the latest trend, or real fur is so expensive that fake is our only option. Both true, though I know one of Miss X’s coats had a $400 price tag, peanuts for one of those socialite dinosaurs, but quite a drop in the bucket for a “girl” whose resume is heavy with benefits and $12 a night shows at Rhino (one of the better paying gigs!). When the social conscience of a rather frivolous and certifiably selfish woman like myself is raised then a true global awakening is happening.
My motives are of a selfish demeanor. I wish to be adored by all in the animal kingdom as well as all mankind. There’s nothing quite like the adulation of a dumb animal whose life is in your hands. So far, I’ve never abused this power though I have threatened to turn the little darlings into bedroom slippers. Kelley is the big mean one, also known as Leona when she’s being particularly rotten. She likes to jump up on the table and push things onto the floor then stare at the fallen objects with a manic fascination. And that’s about the most socially redeeming thing any of my cats do! They do have an uncanny ability to know when I have to leave the room or change the tape in the VCR then everyone wants to sit on my lap or right up on my neck and shoulder so I can’t move or even see. Their sole purpose in life seems to be emptying the cupboard and filling up the litter box. But nothing soothes me more than ten minutes in their guileless company. Oh, that we were all so oblivious to life’s harsh realities. It is this very obliviousness that makes us the masters of our “little brothers” destinies. They don’t even know they have anything to be concerned about. If we demand our civil rights, then it follows we should extend rights to those who’ve served us faithfully for so many thousands of years. The global awakening will manifest in this nation as a march on Washington next June 10th. I’m going to try to make it, but what will I wear? Damn! It’ll be summer; I won’t be able to wear my fur!
