The retro stylings of autumn/winter 2011, which included influences from the Forties, early Sixties and Seventies, have heralded a return to fur and exotic skins, with Mildred Pierce-esque tippets and stoles at Miu Miu, jewel-coloured coats atop snakeskin pencil skirts at Gucci, python cocoon coats at Prada and fur-trimmed cardigans at Burberry. Fur came as decoration, as sleeves, knitted, backed, woven and dip-dyed, as skirts in some cases, even as full capes at Hermès, Rick Owens and Lanvin.
It's the last word in luxury, and that is what high-end design houses seek to offer in times of fiscal woe, when customers with money seek to flaunt it and the rest of us tighten our belts against faddish trends and flighty pieces. With the economic downturn has come an upturn in fortunes for the fur trade, but what does that really mean for consumers and latter-day fashionable ethics?
"The industry has had its ups and down," admits Frank Zilberkweit, the owner and managing director of the British fur label, Hockley. "I think the reality has nothing to do with animal rights so much as the fur trade's inability to modernise itself."
He speaks from his office in the label's flagship store in Mayfair, a serene, uplit space in which feather-light furs trim silk, wool, even sequinned shift dresses. The garments are as far from the industry's bulky dowager stereotypes and murky past as, insists Zilberkweit, their methods of production. "After the Dynasty and the Dallas days when you had those big fur coats that Joan Collins was wearing, the industry kind of lost impetus, we had a little bit of financial downturn, there was no change and no investment."
These were the days following the initial rush of Peta outrage, when fur became a dirty word in fashion and several magazines issued statements against the use of fur; The Independent still abides by a no-fur policy in its fashion pages. Designers shunned it as customers frowned and the industry looked to be, if not in terminal decline, then certainly in hot water.
Since those days though, there has been a considerable revival. Last year, fur sales in the UK came to more than £83 million, an increase of 40 per cent since 2009; globally, fur sales have increased by 70 per cent in the past decade. This doesn't tally with the view in the Nineties that fur was as dead as the animals making up the coats.
Is this because fashion is cyclical and trends re-emerge? Or is it because wearing fur is still a way of flashing status, and is therefore something people will continue to do until the end of time?
"I think the fur trade has been very proactive in bringing it back," says Sue Evans, senior editor at trend forecasting agency WGSN. "I've worked with them since the mid-Nineties and the whole objective was to make fur into a fashion item. It was baby steps at first, and now they're advertising in Harpers Bazaar, in Vogue – they're not sure where to place the ads, because everybody will take them now."
Vogue's publisher, Condé Nast, has an international policy of accepting fur advertising, but the British edition will still not shoot or feature fur in its editorial pages. "We have a no-fur policy at Elle – we do not shoot it," explains Jenny Dickinson, the magazine's acting editor. "It can be harder when working on our bi-annual round-up, 'Elle Collections'. The magazine shows our reader the international collections in their entirety and that often involves so much fur that it's hard to cut it out altogether. But we try and keep appearances to a minimum."
Across the water, though, French Vogue regularly features fur, and sparked comments with a 12-page shoot, 'Fur Play', in its November 2009 issue. In the US, editor Anna Wintour is vocal about its importance and rehabilitation. "Fur is still part of fashion," she has said, "so Vogue will continue to report on it." Being sluiced with red paint, discovering a dead raccoon on her plate at a restaurant and being besieged by protesters at a Christmas party will not change Wintour's mind. In fact, she sent them down a plate of roast beef by way of season's greetings.
"It is indefensible that animals still suffer atrociously in the name of fashion," argues Mimi Bekhechi, Peta's manager. "Many are caught in steel-jaw traps in which they languish for days, starving and suffering excruciating pain. Fur farms are concentration camps for wild animals – many go insane in their cramped wire cages, unable to do anything that is natural to them. They are killed in crude ways, such as neck-breaking and painful electrocution."
But the International Fur Trade Federation rejects this and, in 2007, launched its Origin Assured label. "When a fur garment or product carries the OA label," says the literature, "consumers know that the fur has come from a country where welfare regulations or standard governing fur production are in force." These countries include Scandinavia, Holland, Poland, North America and Canada – all of which, the industry is keen to point out, have made a living from fur since time immemorial and are home to rural communities which rely on the fur trade as a lifeline.
"In Kastoria, Greece, 60 per cent of the people work in the fur trade," says Mike Moser, Director of Communications at the International Fur Trade Federation (IFTF). "There are whole families who learn the skills of working with fur by hand; it's the equivalent of Savile Row."
Of course, the human angle is a good one for the fur trade to focus on, given the economic climate, but producers are far from blasé about the welfare question: the OA label was introduced by the industry itself as a means of clearing its name. Answering Peta's claims, Moser is insistent that the introduction of the initiative will mean a gradual disappearance of those farms that don't meet the regulations. And countries without governmental regulations in place are pushing for them, in order that they, too, might be granted lucrative OA status.
"There is no systemic cruelty in the fur trade," Moser adds. "Even when we're talking about trapping [which is more prevalent in Canada and North America than in Europe], we have invested over £5m in humane methods, and it is part of government-controlled population management schemes." He cites the muskrat as one such species, before explaining, too, that recent OA regulations decreed larger dimensions of cages on fur farms. OA farms also adhere to slaughter methods sanctioned by a panel of vets: carbon monoxide gassing, where the animals simply go to sleep, and electrocution, which is touted as the quickest and most painless means.
The OA label is clearly part of the reason designers have embraced fur, and it is equally popular with customers. London-based designer Todd Lynn's clothes are characterised by sharp tailoring and the use of skins and fur. "I'm an animal lover myself," he says, "so I don't do this without a heart. My mantra is 'If it's cheap, there's a problem'. I go to reputable tanneries, I'm pretty careful about that. There's only so far down the line I can go before I don't know what happens, but the metal that goes into the teeth of the zipper – I don't know where that's mined."
Still, there are those in the industry who refuse to work with fur, or indeed leather. "I can't see how it is justifiable to kill animals," says Stella McCartney, who uses only natural fibres. "The way they are killed for fur is simply barbaric; it is both unethical and unnecessary." Luxury department stores Selfridges and Harvey Nichols do not sell fur. Even Karl Lagerfeld, who previously described the debate as 'childish' in a 'meat-eating world', created his shaggy autumn/winter 2010 collection entirely from fake fur. "It's a triumph," he said at the time, "because fake fur changed so much and became so great that you can hardly see the difference."
One difference is the ingredients that go into fake fur, namely petroleum, and the 1,000 years it takes for synthetic fibres to biodegrade. In this respect, fur can be seen as a sustainable material – if treated well, it can last indefinitely, and it can be re-made according to changing fashions. The vogue for vintage pieces is emblematic (and, supposedly, guilt-free), although recent protests have forced stores such as Rellik and Beyond Retro to stop selling second-hand furs.
"I think protesters are usually young people," says Todd Lynn, "but young people have much bigger issues to worry about now – human rights, the environment, political reform, the economy. Their values have shifted and that's probably why we're seeing fewer protests about fur."
There's also an argument that the 'angry youth' are more commercially savvy now, and see fur not as murder but as part of the trappings of wealth, as sported by the likes of Kate Moss, Jennifer Lopez, and the Olsen twins. Fur features heavily as part of the R&B 'bling' aesthetic, too: "Yes sir, I'm cut from a different cloth," raps Jay-Z in "Crazy in Love". "My texture is the best fur, of chinchilla." Fur is aspirational again, in part even normalised.
And there are some places where it always has been. In countries like Russia and Canada, fur-wearing is a heritage, simply because there is no better insulator against the sub-zero temperatures; in Spain, too, fur is ubiquitous – Spanish high-street giant Zara recently added rabbit trim to some garments. But that's not to say learned behaviour shouldn't be undone.
The fact is, many arguments against wearing fur fall down because we eat so much meat. Furriers claim many skins are 'by-products' because the animals will be eaten anyway, but is steak not then also a by-product of shoes, and vice versa? The way we treat animals could well become the Coliseum of our age – the savage token by which future generations judge us. What it comes down to at the moment is whether or not you mind the fact that your coat used to be a living creature. Well, do you?
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