‘I sold my 26 mink coats and used the money to launch a fake fur label’
After nine years at J Mendel, the highend New York fur house, stylist Kym Canter had amassed quite the collection of rock star-worthy sables, minks and foxes. “I loved fur,” she purrs down the line from Manhattan. “I was known as the fur girl.”
She even owned a vintage monkey fur as well as a leopardskin coat that dated back to an era when no one was thinking very deeply about animal conservation.
But getting ready to go out, one evening in 2016, she found herself recoiling. “I looked at myself in the mirror and thought:
‘I can’t wear this to a party in Brooklyn any more. It doesn’t feel chic or look modern.’”
What had changed? As recently as 2014, young standard bearers of “cool” such as Lily Allen, Rita Ora and Rihanna were draping themselves in real pelts.
But by 2016, Shrimps, a kooky, luxurious-feeling fake-fur label launched in
2013 by Londoner Hannah Weiland, had acquired a following among street stylers and celebrities. Alexa Chung, Laura Bailey and Sienna Miller were all fans.
So was Natalie Massenet. The hugely wealthy founder of Net-a-porter.com was the kind of woman who, in the past, might have marked her success with a creamy beige mink, but instead chose to signal her street smarts with a stripy navyand-white Shrimps coat.
Mahiki, a once-beloved nightclub haunt of Princes William and Harry, banned real fur (or animal fur, as Canter prefers to call it), as did Gucci, Mcqueen, Versace, Michael Kors, Givenchy.
“That was a real turning point,” says Canter. The paradigms of luxury changed almost overnight.
Yet Canter couldn’t find what she wanted. Existing fake-fur labels were a bit cutesy for her taste: she wanted a dollop of Kate Moss, one of whose most distinctive looks in the early Noughties was skinny black jeans and a shaggy black fur jacket that wasn’t a million miles from Canter’s own monkey fur. So Fur Girl sold her 26 mink and fox jackets – mainly to non-fashion people, she adds wryly. “Bankers’ wives and that type.” It was uphill. “On the whole, you only get about a dime on the dollar for old furs these days,” she rues. A mink that originally cost $45,000 went for $5,000. But when you’ve got 26, that adds up.
By late 2016, she was sufficiently confident to call Alex Dymek, the creative director at J Mendel, and tell him that he needed to come and work with her.
“It wasn’t that hard a sell,” she says. “Alex’s sister is a vet and he’d always had a hard time from her about working with fur.”
Dymek’s expertise with animal fur, combined with Canter’s sensibility and refined eye, quickly positioned House of Fluff as a modern luxury buy.
While there’s an unmistakable rock and roll vibe – including a non-animal monkey fur à la Moss – there are plenty of turn-uppable collars and early Sixties style glamour. Camel-coloured teddy furs (a kind of sheepskin effect that’s hugely fashionable this winter), black “mink”, reversible leopard “skins” that can be worn veganleather side out and playful bright rapper-style “fox” – Canter has most furry desires covered.
“We spend hours making muslin toiles,” she says. “It’s like a couture process. Everyone who works in the atelier in New York worked with animal fur before.”
Canter tries everything on to make sure the shoulders aren’t too boxy and the shape is right. “My number one question, always, is does this fur make me look fat?” Most are lined with lyocell (or Tencel, which is its trade name), a biodegradable fabric that helps them hang and drape perfectly and makes them feel more breathable than the average non-animal fur, says Canter.
They’re light, too. There’s a hoodie cape “that feels like a sweater on. You throw it on over an evening gown, or yoga pants,” she says.
Jane Fonda’s a fan, which speaks volumes about the current status of fake fur. This is luxury redefined: affordable, animal-free and not just for fancy occasions.
Hangers and wrapping are recycled, dyes natural and most of her fur is either from recycled polyester or plastic bottles. Offcuts are made into Scrappies – furry little animal charms.
In her dreams, all her non-animal fur would be biodegradable, too – but that’s a way off.
“I could have waited until there’s a fully compostable fake fur before I launched this label, but I decided rather than delay – maybe years – in order to do something that’s perfect, do something that’s better than everything else now.”
Don’t get Canter started on the arguments about fake-fur filaments clogging up water and air supplies, though. “That’s propaganda put out by the hugely wealthy animal fur lobby,” she says. “Sure, our non-animal fur isn’t environmentally perfect yet, but it’s no more harmful than a polyester dress. And you’re not going to be chucking them into land fill anyway,” she adds. “These are future heirlooms.”