Style: Fur Flies

National Review, Dec 31, 1998 by Pia Nordlinger

Mrs. Nordlinger is an editorial writer at the New York Post.

FASHION trends are easy enough to dismiss. Heroin-chic was repulsive; minimalism, a snooze; grunge, just a bit less offensive than a crime against humanity. But for the last few seasons, the fashion press has been hailing glamour as the style du jour. And along with glamour comes the world's most controversial fabric: fur.

Yes, fur is in vogue once more. Fox, mink, sable, and even the faux stuff have returned from the dungeon of political correctness. Celebrities-from rapper Mary J. Blige to author Danielle Steele-are swathing themselves in it.

And you can forget about your grandmother's floor-length jaw-dropper. This trend has nothing to do with the fur coats that hang dormant for 360 evenings a year. These days, fur is more Jennifer Lopez than Brooke Astor. More happy hour than high tea.

Designers are trimming casual clothes with fur and dying it in shocking colors. Fur accents or trim can be found on skirts, sweaters, cloth coats, shoes and boots, handbags, shrugs, and scarves. Then there are the envelope- pushing designers who are creating actual clothing with fur: Fendi has a knee-grazing sable skirt, and Versace boasts a white mink tank-top (a splendid perversion of form and function). Mink now comes in electric blue and pale pink. One finds fur covering even the most banal objects. Fendi, again, produced a fox-covered wheelie (the popular carry-on suitcase that rankles airline crews).

The trend has the trappings (ahem) of a paradigm shift: fur is now fun, rather than imposing. "More approachable," says John Nickleson, an assistant at Oscar de la Renta.

There is no agreed-upon single event that led to the resurgence of fur in fashion. The weather was certainly of little influence: no one buys fox- trimmed slip-on stilettos to keep her toes toasty. The economy may have played a role-making consumers more aggressive and designers more playful. Wendy Bounds, former fashion writer for the Wall Street Journal, points out that the economy had an impact at the conceptual stage: "Back when designers were preparing fashions for this season, at the end of 1997, the economy was booming. If money and luxury are in the back of your mind, what is a better way to express that than fur, beading, and other embellishments?" With a feisty economy at their backs, designers started toying with luxurious fabrics like velvet and pure cashmere, in addition to a smattering of feathers. So a fur revival made sense.

Furriers, however, claim that the market for fur is independent of financial trends. "Some of the best years in the fur business have been when the economy was bad," says Ralph Romberg, Neiman Marcus VP for coats and fur. "During one year in the early Eighties, mortgages were at 12 per cent, but the fur business was booming."

If any other single factor counted for more than either a record-high Dow or a record-low winter, it was Madonna, which should come as no surprise to those familiar with her early incarnation as the original Material Girl. Pivotal in the return of fur, according to Degen Pener of Entertainment Weekly, was the October 1996 issue of Vogue, in which Madonna was photographed in fur-laden costumes for the movie musical Evita. Most unfortunately, Madonna's status as prime mover behind American popular culture is now highly suspect, owing to her recent and inexplicable adoption of a British accent.

Even if Madonna could all by herself turn America into a pelt paradise, trouble would not be far away. The ever-vigilant People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals slumbers not-though hardly inflicting the reign of terror they did during the 1980s. In 1996, a PETA activist walked into a restaurant and threw a dead raccoon onto the table of Vogue editor (and fur aficionado) Anna Wintour. Last January, PETA leader Dan Mathews led an infiltration of Dolce & Gabbana's Milan boutique. The activists, part of an "international boutique blitz," occupied a display window while smearing red paint on themselves and their fake fur costumes. In a more benign anti-fur campaign, known as "Models of Compassion," world-famous fashion models have pledged their refusal to wear fur. Cindy Crawford, ubermodel and pledge signatory, caused a brief schism when she appeared in a Revlon advertisement wearing a fur wrap. The fur was fake, so PETA refrained from ditching Miss Crawford. But when Naomi Campbell modeled a sable coat in 1997, she was summarily "fired" from the organization.

According to PETA, both the fashion world and furriers are deluding themselves if they think people will ever again buy fur in the quantity they once did. "The fashion magazines can say that fur is back," says PETA spokesperson Jenny Woods, "but customers are not buying it." Maybe so. But your typical woman is still less concerned about the thought police than about the fashion police. "There is definitely less [anti-fur] pressure than there was in the late Eighties and early Nineties," confirms Larry Schulman of Alexandre Furs.