Twenty years ago, driving home from yet another preschool activity, I overheard the following conversation between my niece and my daughter. They were four at the time.
“I’m going to be a vegetarian,” announced the niece.
“What does that mean?” inquired the daughter.
“It means I’m not going to eat animals anymore.”
The daughter paused, then asked about the only conflict she could imagine. “But will you wear their beautiful fur?”
For the record, the niece said no. Also for the record, the daughter was aghast. One was committed to compassion, the other to fashion. They have continued along the same trajectory ever since, each respectful of the other’s choice.
This little gem of a conversation has been replaying in my head of late for reasons that will become obvious. Consider this: I’ve known for a while that purple is the new orange which is the new pink which is the new black. What’s only just come to my attention is that faux fur is the new pleather which is the new vinyl which is the new shag.
Put another way, any home that doesn’t have a faux fur throw or accent pillow is woefully under-decorated.
I’m reminded of this every time I open one of the 500 catalogues I get on a daily basis. Besieged with an array of lavish faux fur embellishments, I find the trend both alluring and vaguely alarming.
Let’s start with the allure factor. It’s getting cold outside, and I do love me a throw blanket to keep me cozy. And just because I live in suburbia doesn’t mean I don’t harbor secret fantasies of being a pioneer gal. I read every single one of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books about life on the prairie, so yes, I would like Pa to shoot me a fur blanket. Thanks to Pottery Barn and Frontgate, and every other store in the western hemisphere, hunting for a pretend dead animal blanket is easy.
Here’s where it gets alarming: the sheer range of fake fur options is overwhelming. I’d expect to find mink, or chinchilla, or maybe a little raccoon. But if I’m in the market for a little brown bear? No problem. Suppose I want something in a festive fox, or coyote, or timber wolf? Lots to choose from. Maybe I’m feeling the need to go exotic? Mongolian sheepskin might do the trick.
But how do I feel about the ethics of decorating with sculpted tiger or snow leopard? Doing a quick Google search, my jaw dropped. Shouldn’t I be offended that if I wanted to, I could stay warm with a faux baby harp fur blanket?
I’m no card-carrying member of PETA, and I’m certainly no vegetarian. But it doesn’t feel right to curl up and read a book while wrapped in a synthetic version of an endangered species.
Thinking of the niece and the daughter discussing compassion versus fashion, I pause. Then I remember: It’s all in faux fun. Baby seal blanket? Perfect for my club room.
Sally Higginson is a freelance columnist for Pioneer Press.
