Stylish Moments in Television: Cosmo Kramer

Main cast in "The Subway"

I have an anachronistic relationship with Seinfeld, having lived though the 90s and not watching a single episode, instead favouring F·R·I·E·N·D·S, and Home Improvement, and other prime time sitcoms. All I knew about the show was it had an annoyingly dumb bass-heavy riff, and characters I had no patience nor interest in getting to know. Cue late-2016. Almost two decades after the final episode airs to 76 million viewers, I finally understand the magic of Seinfeld's exhaustive "show about nothing" phenomenon. The iconic theme music is no long annoying, but whimsically heartening and smile-inducing; the characters lovable and oh-so culturally significant it's easy to see why they are quoted, meme'd, referenced, and fan-fictioned about even today. 

So I wolf down the entire nine seasons in about a month, rewatching some episodes along the way because they are literally laugh-out-loud funny, and in doing so I began noticing how the main cast dressed. Most of the time there isn't much to notice because, and I assume this is true for most TV shows, the focus is on the story and its characters. Outfits cannot be distracting unless they contribute to character development or plot progression. There must be consistency in the cast, too: their personalities, behaviour, moral and ethical compasses—maybe fit a few archetypes—and, therefore, their appearance must be appropriate and true to the characters. That's why every character has a uniform. 

Elaine and Kramer waiting for Jerry and George in "The Limo". Kramer's camel vintage leather peacoat sparked my awareness of the main cast's wardrobe for the remainder of the series.

Jerry's go-to look, when not performing in his over-sized jackets, consists simply of stone-washed denim, Nike dad-trainers, and a rotation of blousy collared shirts and sweatshirts. His outwear of choice are leather, baseball, and bomber jackets. George's professions require a dressier wardrobe but still leans toward casual, opting for khakis and cords, flannel shirts, the occasional tie, knit pullovers, tweed jackets, parkas and overcoats. George's wardrobe is more diverse because he is, in my opinion, a relatively more developed character compared to Jerry, especially when it comes to his very specific superficial insecurities. Elaine, my absolute favourite of the four, is a petite fiery ball of energy (Get! Out! *shove*) with the most complicated wardrobe filled with wide-shouldered jackets, over-sized denim jackets, blazers and suits for work, full-length flowery dresses, and most notably early in the series, visible white socks—a style choice she shares with Kramer. Elaine's hairstyle also evolves the most over the course of the series, starting with a poofy perm in the early 90s, to shorter curls, straight shoulder-length, or done up in a bun by the end of the series.

From "The Keys". Few things define eccentricity quite like Cosmo Kramer

But my keen interest is in Kramer's personal style because he is the best dressed and most stylish of the bunch. He as a caricature of himself—an oddity having a Z-Score of ±4 on a bell curve; an outlier on the trend line; a singularity in ways only Kramer can be. From his stringy pompadour, entertaining facial expressions contortions, clumsy spastic body language and lanky gait, to his exaggerated theatrical manner of speech, Kramer's toggery must also match his peculiarity. His style is best described as 1970s vintage, most prevalent in his penchant for camper collar shirts and knits in strong colours, and gregarious patterns and motifs; his silhouette borrows from workwear—relaxed looser fit, and cropped trousers draping that tall slender frame, or as Kramer describes his body as that of a "taught, pre-teen Swedish boy."

ಠ_ಠ

On an unrelated note, if it isn't already obvious, Kramer (though a case can be made for Newman) is the only person addressed and referred to by his surname rather than his given name, which adds all the more interest to his outlandish character. There are few episodes where Kramer is the main focus, but that doesn't matter because even in a supporting role he is the centre of attention the moment he enters the scene, adding a particular life no other character can, and looking fabulous doing it.

"The Apartment" sporting an unusually post-mousse groomed (for Kramer) hairstyle.

Lobster/crayfish motif camper, from "The Pie"

More subtle horse/equestrian critters shirt in "The Invitations". Kramer's face betrays his otherwise suave 70s look.

Another vintage camper from "The Doodle".

Bold stripe knit polo in "The Opera". Kramer's tall and wide frame allows clothes to hang and drape with sophistication. Had he styled his hair in a more traditional manner he could have be a different character.

Kramer being bullied by the neighbourhood children in "The Serenity Now". He is a master of colour theory and tonal dress, and this earthy ensemble is one of my favourites.

Again, Kramer displays a masterful understanding of basic complementary colour theory and tonal dress in "The Fix-Up": two-toned light blue top with navy trousers framed by a tobacco brown jacket. Even without the intense posturing, he stylishly defeats George (and Jerry).

Easily Kramer's most intentionally put together outfit, following the stereotypical golf uniform in "The Bubble Boy", but he doesn't look like the goofy try-hard he's meant to portray. Kramer has the misplaced sense of self-confidence to make sure the look work in his favour.

Kramer making a bet with Jerry that he will complete this "steps" apartment configuration before the end of the month, from "The Pony Remark". Such strong confident stripes, mirroring his confidence in winning the bet.

Also from "The Pony Remark" one scene later when Kramer concedes that he gave up on building his "steps". The equally bold but more chaotic western camper reflects his scatter-brain moment where he seemingly doesn't understand, or forgets, how a bet works after Jerry tries to claim his dinner... or maybe Kramer does understands, but feigns ignorance and got away with it!

Absolutely love this colour block shirt from "The Soup".

Tonal outfit from "The Caddy".

Upon closer inspection, the small check pattern on his trousers add extra interest to his otherwise flat outfit if the trousers were plain.

That Varsity neckline from "The Serenity Now"

I believe the only new item of clothing Kramer has purchased in the entire series was the pair of Wrangler jeans in "The Wait Out", which looked so out of character, and not just because they were too tight. The jeans symbolise an uncomfortable restriction of Kramer's usual free-spirit and quirky sense of self. This is important in the realm of personal style, or just one's general state of being: wear what makes you comfortable; what reflects who you are, and who you want to be—who you want others to perceive you to be, which can often conflict with the true self.

Elaine: Kramer, they're painted on!
Kramer: Well, they're slim fit.
Jerry: ...slim fit?
Kramer: Yeah, they're streamlined.
Jerry: You're walking like Frankenstein.
Kramer: Come on, they just gotta be worked in a little bit, that's all.

In "The Wait Out", smarmy Jerry goads the usually confident Kramer by subtly body-shaming him into proving to Jerry that he can still wear (fit into) jeans (hence "body of a taught, pre-teen Swedish boy"). Why Kramer equates that with super-skinny jeans only Kramer knows, but that's besides the point. For the remainder of the episode the viewer is treated to several comedic scenarios in which Kramer tries to go through his day in painted-on Wranglers. From trying to pick up Jerry's TV Guide to the simple act of walking and sitting, helping Mickey out with his audition, and ultimately ending up arrested at the police station accused of being a child predator, trying to disprove Jerry proved a costly, but entertaining, decision. Wearing anything for anyone but yourself betrays your personal style, and the Wranglers were Kramer's only style folly in the nine seasons.

In stark contrast to the Wranglers, these stonewashed light blue dad-jeans from Jerry's closet in "The Voice" are more befitting Kramer. The fact that they crop on him because he's taller than Jerry adds extra coolness. The white socks and black oxfords make this look certified contemporary street style; he just needs a pair of funky sunglasses, a cool bag, and an iPhone to capture it with and spam his social media accounts. Since Kramer's outfit came from Jerry's closet, imagine the two of them wearing the exact same things—shirt, jeans, oxfords. Who looks more "himself", Jerry or Kramer? It may be Jerry's wardrobe, but it is so Kramer. And that's the power clothes can have: it can diminish or enhance not only one's image, but one's sense of self.

From "The Voice". I don't know what the 90s audience thought of his monotone look, but damn if he doesn't look cool now. Throw on a pair of multi-coloured Balenciaga Triple S or Treks and he'd fit right in to Fashion Month.

Jerry: What about your stuff?

Kramer: Uh, oh, uh, OK, uh... Yeuh!

There are a few of moments in Seinfeld where Kramer reveals a bit about his style preferences (apart from wearing them), the first of which coming in "The Statue" where he and Jerry carry into the apartment a box of Jerry's grandfather's possessions, whereupon Kramer immediately fancies a pair of black knee-high socks before copping an old tweed suit, a fedora, and a pair of brown and white spectators, which he wears several times throughout the show.

When Morty Seinfeld compliments his pants in "The Raincoats", saying he owns a similar pair, Kramer declares, while casually gesturing at Morty that draws a funny reaction, that he got them at a used clothing store that procures its stock from widows whose husbands have died.

And of course, Kramer's admiration for, and appreciation of vintage garments is confirmed in "The Secretary" when Kenny Bania enquires about buying his suit to which he replies, "This is vintage, they don't make this stuff anymore... Look at the stitching. This is old world craftsmanship." But being Kramer, he does an aboutface and sells the suit to Bania for a $300, which is about $500 in 2018... so not bad, actually.

Doing his best Joe Friday: "Just make love to that wall, pervert!"

Despite the casual nature of Kramer's outfits, he occasionally dabbles in the more sartorial world, wearing tailored suits and jackets of times past. He looks as comfortable and much the individual that he is in his countless camper shirts as he does in his vintage suits.

From "The Statue", Kramer goes incognito as a cop wearing Jerry's grandfather's old tweed suit and fedora to retrieve the titular statue for George. While Jerry can't bring himself to wear "grandpa clothes" Kramer gleefully embraces them probably because 1. they're stylish, 2. they're old, and 3. he got them for free! Indeed Kramer looks like a (young) hip grandpa.

"Professor Peter von Nostrand" and Elaine in "The Nose Job" trying to con the landlord into getting "the jacket" belonging to Kramer's mother's incarcerated ex-boyfriend, which, when worn, mysteriously attracts women.

"The Comeback"

From "The Gum". Those brown and white spectators again, in combination with white socks and overall tonal dress. Kramer somehow manages to both blend in with, and stand out against the heavy auburny surroundings.

Kramer and Jerry in "The Soup Nazi" about to confront the flamboyant but aggressive couple that stole Elaine's armoire.

Kramer wearing the Technicolor Dreamcoat in "The Wig Master"—Thug Life!

"A.G. Pennypacker" in "The Millennium".

Kramerica Industries orientation with Darren the intern in "The Voice". Kramer donning olive drab separates like a boss.

Dean Jones: Far as I can tell, your entire enterprise is a little more than a solitary man with a messy apartment which may or may not contain a chicken.

Kramer: ... and with Darren's help we'll get that chicken!

Pitti Uomo-level layering in "The Movie": 1. camper collar shirt, 2. olive cardigan, 3. shearling coat, 4. overcoat draped over

More masterful tonal dressing in "The Merv Griffin Show".

The main cast and Jackie Chiles in "The Finale". There are those brown and white spectators again.

Unlike serial dramas that have long story arcs that afford character and plot development the audience can latch themselves onto, Seinfeld's sitcom plots remain episodic, on occasion spilling into a two-parter, and the main cast's characters are established from the beginning with little change throughout: Jerry Seinfeld, the stand-up comedian with dating issues, and is the focal point of the series; George Costanza, the insecure best friend who has a difficult time holding employment, and has more relationship issues than Jerry; Elaine Benes, the ex who is somehow still friends with Jerry and continues to share the same social circle, and who also has relationship problems.

And then there's Kramer, the overly intrusive neighbour who's a little off in many ways, but doesn't share the same level of relationship problems as the rest. Instead, his plot lines reside in the wacky ideas his mind generates, sounding off with opinions on others' issues, and general trouble-making. Kramer is, as far as it's known, unemployed (except for that gig at H&H Bagels) but doesn't seem to worry about money, instead pursuing interests like acting, playing a part-time mall Santa, pitching his said wacky ideas (like "the Beach" perfume), or trying to score a windfall suing a large company.

If there is anything to take away from Kramer's style, it's that it comes with the personality. That isn't to say that only interesting people wear interesting clothes, but it would make sense, wouldn't it? If what is worn doesn't reflect/project who is wearing the outfit, the true sense of self is lost, and Kramer is a perfect example—fictional or otherwise—of someone who uses the power of personal style and clothing to create a memorable, lasting impression even two decades later, and having only jumped onto the Seinfeld bandwagon not too long ago, Kramer will influence my personal style philosophy for a long time.

GQ×GAP: The Coolest Designers on the Planet - What Happened?

GQ×GAP's Coolest Designers on the Planet, (L-R): Jey Perie of Kinfolk; Alexandre Mattiusi of AMI; Yasuto Kamoshita and Poggy of United Arrows (my favourite of the three designers).

I have followed GQ's annual collaboration with the GAP since their first collection in 2012, and every year they manage to pull of some cool pieces. This year is no different. Of the three brands, AMI produced the coolest looking capsule with a loose-fitting silhouette combined with colourful and chic Parisian charm. As much as I love the black and off-white horizontal stripe wool/cashmere blend sweater I didn't look good in it, and nothing else in the collection jived with me. My favourite of the three brands, United Arrows, is a quirky mix of traditional tailoring (Yasuto Kamoshita) and street style (Poggy) coalescing into a unique aesthetic only the Japanese can create. Their coolest pieces for me were the railroad stripe denim coveralls, and the camel and navy wool argyle sweater vest, both of which I picked up for 50% off during the GAP's Black Friday sale.

United Arrows camel and navy wool argyle sweater vests piled up on Black Friday at the Metrotown GAP. One of my favourite pieces, I originally though it was a regular sweater with a slouchy fit but lost interest when I found out it was a sweater vest. It gradually grew on me, however. Got my XS!

More United Arrow sweater vests, this time buried under some regular sweaters at the CF Pacific Centre GAP—likewise during Black Friday.

United Arrows oversized raglan sleeve check coat, and United Arrows down jacket all available in my size; Metrotown GAP.

United Arrows railroad stripe coveralls, left: Metrotown GAP; right: CF Pacific Centre GAP. The coveralls were only available online until they were "sold out" one month later, but here they are in stores.

A few AMI wool/cashmere sweaters remaining. The black and cream striped jumper was the best selling item, almost selling out online with a limited store supply. AMI easily had the coolest looking capsule of the three.

Which brings me to my post.

So what happened to the so-called Coolest Designers on the Planet? Not much, really. The collection released on its usual scheduled last Tuesday of September—the 26th to be exact. Like last year, the collection was available online but the store shipments came late. Vancouver GAP stores did not carry any of the collaborative pieces until the end of the week, and even then the merchandise came in piece-meal deliveries; the marketing campaign was up, but the product was sparse. The best selling item was AMI's striped jumper; all that remained online were XLs, and stores quantities were limited.

As far as collaborations go, the hype behind all GQ×GAP releases have been virtually non-existent. Sure, GQ published a few videos detailing their international search and settling on the three brands, but it's all internal promotion. The glitz and glamour simply is not there. There are no line ups, no night-before campers, and definitely no resellers. Previous collections on ebay are marked up with a marginal premium only because they are no longer available and not because they are coveted in anyway; there is no ROI in GQ×GAP collaborations' resale.

AMI chunky leather velcro sneakers, GAP Metrotown, crammed into a small cubby hole. These could have been nice to pick up if I didn't already have enough shoes.

AMI parka to the far right; United Arrows oversized raglan sleeve check coat on the right; the few remaining standout AMI striped pullover; and some Kinfolk hoodies mixed in with regular GAP merchandise—during Black Friday, one month after the collection's release.

Abundant United Arrows wide-leg chinos in khaki and navy; GAP CF Pacific Centre

Kinfolk's green and cream carpenter pant, CF Pacific Centre GAP. Better known for its lifestyle publication, Kinfolk produced the weakest capsule, in my opinion. It was full of basics with little consideration for design, instead focusing mainly on plastering "KINFOLK" on everything. It lacked an identity just as AMI and United Arrows was full of it (save for the t-shirts, sweatshirts, and hoodies).

What's the difference between GAP's collaborations and, say, H&M's designer partnerships? For one, H&M has become a much larger retail institution. They focus on trends, product turnover, and targeting millennials and younger demographics; their prices are ridiculously low; H&M selectively partners with often well established luxury designers (while the premise of GQ and GAP's partnership focuses on relatively new designers); and they have a monstrous marketing budget and social media presence. Their most recent collaboration with Erdem, while not as big and shiny as previous releases which included the likes of KENZO, Balmain (arguably the most successful), Alexander Wang, Marni, Isabel Marant, Versace, and Karl Lagerfeld, still sold out in record time. By the end of release day only a few items, mostly accessories and footwear, remained.

But the biggest factor by far that separates GAP from H&M is that the latter releases designer product lines for both women and men, with a greater focus on the former, and that makes a huge difference. H&M's collaborations are featured in print and online fashion editorials for both sexes, which garners more exposure and fuelling the hype before release. All the things that H&M are, the GAP are not.

One month after GQ×GAP's Coolest Designers on the Planet dropped, the GAP's webpage no longer sells any of it, citing popularity and selling out. False. All remaining merchandise have been shipped to various GAP stores where the campaign is no longer active, and items are separated and blended in with regular GAP stock, some items discounted by as much as 40%.

By the last week of November, all items are "sold out" on the GAP's website, but anyone following closely knows it not to be true. Stock started springing up and being blended into the racks, fixtures, and shelves along with regular GAP goods. Great for customers (still itching to pick up some United Arrows pieces), not so much for the GAP.

AMI 100% cashmere boxy v-neck jumper; one of the pricier luxurious pieces—GAP Metrotown. I wish I could make this work.

The haphazardly folded and stuffed purple "So Fancy" and yellow "GAP & UA" sweat t-shirts from United Arrows; GAP Metrotown

Rack full of sweatshirts and hoodies from all GQ×GAP brands. Interestingly, this year each brand put forth at least one sweatshirt, one hoodie, and a t-shirt or two with United Arrows leading the pack. Looks like GQ is starting to run out of ideas.

Saturdays NYC white corduroy pants form last year's All-Star Collection. If this is any indication, The Coolest Designers on the Planet collection may very well be the final collaboration between GQ and the GAP.

The GAP brand is not what it used to be (and neither is GQ, but that's for another post), peaking in the mid to late-90s and airing these annoying but effective musical/dancing commercials up until the early 2000s that still run in some form or other today. GAP does not excite anymore. It is now known for its perpetual discounts and weekly deals. Why buy anything full-price when I can wait a month and get it on sale? If I wait longer, I can get a hefty discount on the sale ticket price.

The company is shifting its focus away from the GAP to Old Navy where they see growth potential in the fast-fashion sector. Having done four GQ×GAP collections, one All-Star collection, and now an international cohort, I don't know what else GQ and the GAP can do. GAP×Human Made? GAP×Greg Lauren? GAP×VETEMENTS? (Ha ha, no. More like H&M×VETEMENTS). It would seem like the trend of collaborations between brands is not slowing down; if anything it's rampant. There are too many to count, many of them unknown and obscure to pedestrian shoppers and consumers, but I suppose that's the point. GQ×GAP is a modest partnership I appreciate. Were it not for the GAP's damaged reputation, or GQ's state of purgatory, the annual BNMDA capsules would be more enticing. Perhaps this partnership has run its course, or GQ will produce the collaboration with Old Navy instead? We'll see next September if there is a renewed interest, and announcement of another collection.

Shearling Footwear?

Fur-lined sneakers from Boemos. Not sure what animal skin was used, but it must have been young. Fox?
Rabbit? Young lamb? The fur was soft, the suede equally so, but also thin and delicate, as if it would tear easily.

Shearling for the feet. I think this is one of the ultimate superficially superfluous extrinsic material luxuries one can indulge in. Never have I ever worn anything so soft and smooth on my (bare) feet. It's like people who claim silk undergarments are amazing. But unlike silk underwear, shearling is utilitarian: it keeps your feet warm and toasty, and if you live in subzero temperatures during colder seasons, it may even be a necessity.

While shearling refers specifically to sheep and lamb skin, fur-lined shoes are not new. The Inuit people of Northern Canada and Arctic regions have worn boots and moccasins made of a variety of animal skins such as sealskin, and tough caribou and moose hides to fend off the frigid weather for centuries—hell, most of the Inuit attire revolved around animals skins.

Much like the Inuit, the indigenous peoples of the Himalayas rely heavily on fur-based garb during winter to survive the cold. It's documented that Tibetan fur boots were decorated colourfully to match their equally vibrant outfits, which incorporated stones and beads of various hues, intricate embroidery and weaves, and other ornamental drapery on top of their sheepskin cloaks. One could argue that Tibetans pioneered shearling boots into fashion, or at least gave them life on top of their utilitarian value.

In Russia, peasants and soldiers alike donned knee-high shearling boots to keep frost-biting Russian winters at bay, where temperatures can dip below even -50°C. It's funny to see how shearling, now a fanciful luxury, was viewed back in the mid-1800s, as recorded in Bentley's Miscellany: 

"There is no doubt that the skins of animals, whether of sheep or buffalo, or more valuable furs, are great preservatives against wet and cold, but they are cumbersome, unsightly, difficult to dry, apt to get dirty and harbour vermin, and in the way in action or any other emergency."

And of Russian soldiers:

"The Russian troops wear sheepskins in winter, merely because they cannot afford better... Boots lined with sheepskin, made large so as to cover the trousers, and reaching up to the knees, are also commonly worn in Russia during winter."

The old-timey English literary magazine goes on to describe the entirety of what Russian troops wore, which today would be considered just about the most extravagant winter attire anyone could ever wear: head to toe in shearling, fox fur, buckskin, and buffalo hide, among an assortment of available mammalian skins and fur. Of course the point is to be warm, and in the scheme of laborious military work, it's no wonder animal skins weren't all that attractive. But I digress. My focus is on footwear.

The rich fur in these Boemos sneakers was long and thick, like an extra layer of socks. I never tried these on because I simply have no interest in fur-lined sneakers, at least not this style. I would've preferred a chunky athletic trainer.

It was these Italy-based Boemos All-Star-esque style high-tops that prompted me to think a simple "what?" They're at Winners in Downtown Vancouver, which, of late, has gotten some funky gear. But fur sneakers? Really? Shit, alright... Not a pervasive brand at all, a quick Google search shows that YOOX tops the first four results as the main purveyor of Boemos, with no indication of the brand's independent presence. Without any meaningful research, my only guess is that Boemos is a wholesaler and maybe manufactures for other well-known brands like, say, Common Projects or Greats' Italian-made line of shoes. Eleventy has a similar sneaker for ladies in their Fall/Winter 2017 line. I didn't think I would see fur-lined anything outside luxury retailers like Holt Renfrew, Leone, or Haven, so to see them so casually displayed at an off-price retailer surprised me.

Stefano Gamba real shearling sneaker boots ZX246. I originally thought they were from Rick Owens due to its simple black and white aesthetic—I wasn't far off, Though the price difference between them was about 10 times. These I've tried several times, and felt amazing on my feet. Originally seen at Winners Downtown Vancouver, Marshalls has several pairs in varying sizes, which excited me. I would love to get these, but another pair of shoes had my undivided attention.

John Fluevog "Ace Face" derby. I first saw this online on the Fluevog website and was curious about the nature of the "shearling" wrapped around the quarter. The sales associate at the Granville St. Fluevog told me it was real shearling, but the Gastown Fluevog told me it was synthetic... it felt like acrylic to her. She also pointed out that John Fluevog no longer uses shearling or any fur in any of their shoes, so it's more than likely it is synthetic. I haven't touched enough shearling to know the difference (yet), but upon further inspection there is noticeable stitching between the "fur" and the leather where they attach to each other.

Simons' in-house Le 31 iteration of the shearling high-top. I don't like the leather patch on the counter (heel). I know it reinforces a stress point, but it looks like a design flaw to me; should have kept the entire shoe camel sheepskin. It reminds me of Jeremy Scott's adidas Teddy Bear sneakers.

From Moncler, the aptly named "Vancouver" boot made from tan sheepskin shearling. Simple, timeless design with the right amount of ruggedess. It's chunky, but somehow still maintains a slender silhouette. The exposed but neatly trimmed shearling running up the quarter is just chic enough while preserving said ruggedness. The Vancouver boot is the quintessential Vancouver winter boot, if Vancouverites have CAD$650 casually lying around.

From Prada at Hold Renfrew. Left: haircalf and kid leather ankle boot; right: calf leather tasselled loafer with Alpine goat fur. Probably the most gratuitous use of fur I've seen... it's fashion, OK? Get with it!

Fur (and shearling) is a delicate subject. There's no doubt that the fur trade is cruel to animals, especially if they are young. Probably the cruellest of all is the harvesting of karakul pelts. The younger the lamb the more prised its pelt. That's all I'll say...

Nope, I was wrong. This is the most gratuitous use of fur, relatively speaking. On sandals? It serves no functional purpose. At CA$1,255 this screams "I have too much money to burn!" Wear this around the house as a house sandal? Around the pool? Slip on to throw out the trash? Go grocery shopping? However you wear this, just please don't drag your feet. Actually, just don't drag your feet.

Gucci leaves me speechless. I don't know how I feel about these "Princetown" slippers, which run between CAD$1,000 to CAD$1,200.. The fur serves literally no function but to say "I'm f-ckin' loaded". I believe kangaroo fur was used until recently, when Gucci decided to ban fur from future collections starting in Spring 2018. These are lamb shearling, I think. I think they are unreserved and tasteless. Something about the fur being right at the sole of the slipper... it's like it's being stepped on even if indirectly... It is symbolically undignified.

Gucci recently denounced the use of fur, and will cease (barring shearling, I think...?) beginning with their Spring 2018 collection. While Gucci is not the first designer brand to go fur-less, they certainly made a big splash about it in a PR move to court a new, younger millennial audience. The fabled Italian brand's second coming occurred in 2015 when Alessandro Michele—who introduced the world to the Princetown slipper—was promoted to creative director. Not since Tom Ford's tenure at Gucci, who is credited for being its saving grace in 1994, has the fashion house seen a revitalised and distinct, legacy-worthy identity.

Marco Bizzarri, Gucci's president and chief executive officer, is responsible for promoting Michele and rebooting the brand, doesn't think fur is "modern" anymore. It's not that Bazzarri doesn't have a point, I just think it sounds too shallow a reason to suddenly give up fur. Animal cruelty aside, fur is expensive and holds a stuffy image, even if those who wear fur nowadays are self-proclaimed "influencers" (ugh...) and no longer sultry women enrobed in giant mink coats and fox fur shawls of old (except you, defiant Yves Solomon). "New" fur is more subtle, relatively speaking, used as a lining or trim like many of the footwear featured in this post, or in parkas like those from Mr & Mrs Italy and Alessandro Sqarzi's AS65.

Seen in the wild. Christian Louboutin, everyone. This "Snow Black Flat" boot costs CAD$3,600.
Those silvery grey plumes are fox fur. This is hubris manifested.

I have mixed feelings about fur—please indulge me a moment. If one is to lambast fur sellers and fur wearers, then one must also direct that criticism to leather. Because what is fur, really? Fur is leather with the hair fibres still attached. So why the brouhaha about fur?

It's not just leather and fur, however. The down collected from ducks and geese have similar horrific practices, though arguably worse because the waterfowl are often alive when their down is harvested. That is because they will regrow their down for future harvest, and will continue until the "life cycle" of the bird has run its course, likely for their meat or livers.

The outrage must be equal.

I can't denounce the fashion industry's use of shearling or fur, because I own two shearling coats. I can't denounce the fashion industry's use of leather because I own an abundant leather products. I can't denounce the fashion industry's use of down because I own down-filled outerwear.

The other day I was at the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver for work, and I passed by the Dior boutique, and in one of their display windows I saw this fur jacket. I immediately gravitated toward it with lust, if even only for a moment. My co-worker countered and said I would look better in the Dan Witz all-over printed bomber, and she isn't incorrect, but to me, there is something alluring about fur; it's romantic, it's raw, it's regal, it's elegantly aggressive, and most of all, fur is beautiful.

Yes, more so while it's still on the animal from which it belongs.

Is there a difference between the Moncler Vancouver boot, and the Louboutin Snow Black Flat boot? Of course. It's the ostentatious use of fox fur in the latter that puts form before function. It serves for the sake of vanity and nothing more, whereas the Vancouver boot is all about function. When we look back at the Inuit, or the Russian troops who used animal skins and furs as a way of life and to survive their environment, do we fault them? No, we don't. With technology today and synthetic substitutes like polyester, nylon, and acrylic, animal fur doesn't necessarily need to exist in fashion, and that seems to be the trend slowly being adopted until it becomes eventually the industry norm. But it will never truly go away. Purists will always want fur and will find a way to acquire it.