A last hurrah for renovated coats

In late 1998, wanting to party like the upcoming year, I bought a secondhand sheared mink duffle coat at work one day, when I took a lunch break shopping eBay.  

When I moved to Montréal in 2011, I had it renovated by Dominique Ouzilleau, a fourth-generation furrier who began to work in the family business at age 14. He disassembled and recut the coat, and goodbye, '80s dropped armholes. At -20C/-4F, when the tip of your nose can freeze if you wait too long for a bus, nothing insulates as well; I don't wear the coat to be fancy, I wear it to avoid hypothermia.  

Since then, I have seen him work wonders restyling and reviving worn or dated coats and turning salvaged material into linings or hats.

Last month, my grandsons' other grandmother, Natasha, invited me to join her at Mr. O.'s while she had two old pieces restyled. The first is an early '80s buckskin "Pierre Trudeau jacket". Canadians in the Passage will remember the Prime Minister's fondness for his. One was a gift in 1970 from the Maniwaki, Québec Chamber of Commerce, custom-made by First Nations craftspersons; the jacket is now in the Canadian Canoe Museum:

In 2018, the Tsilhqot'in National Government gave current Prime Minister Justin Trudeau a replica made from the pattern of his father's jacket when he visited Xeni G'wetin in the Cariboo region of British Columbia.

Natasha's, made by Liz Claiborne after Trudeau's became iconic, is like his minus the raised beadwork that spelled "Canada" on the back yoke. Mr. O. will restyle it to a current, precisely-fitted cut:

The second, a full-length, boxy mouton (sheepskin) was her mother's, so about twenty-five to thirty years old. We regret not taking "before" photos; the original, heavy, nearly ankle-length, and dressed up with a tacked-on grey mink collar, was like wearing a tiny house. Here is the "after",  a tailored, sleek jacket:

Part of the salvaged swath of mouton became a hat!

She also inherited a pale blue tweed from the '50s. Below, Natasha is in the stroller, her sister Helen pushes; her mother, Vera, (in the blue tweed and matching hat) and grandmother Lydia stroll behind.  Vera, an opera singer in her native Russia, passed on her elegance and eye to both daughters.

Mt. Royal Park, ca. 1958

The blue tweed was beyond use, and now lives in a photo, forever in the sun.  

Mr. O. gave us a peek at his latest project. With a group of design students, he is making a collection of at least ten tapestries from fur scraps he has assembled from coats that he designed and made for Lacroix, Dior and St. Laurent, among others.

First, the students visited Montréal neighbourhoods to document the culture and history of each. They photographed landmarks and natural features, and developed palettes and patterns. They are now completing the meticulous construction, with the back side as beautifully-finished as the front. 

Here's a peek at one tapestry in process; the colour key and pattern is left, and at right, part of the fabric: 

The project will be exhibited in spring 2023. When I said I would not photograph the work in progress, Mr. O. said, "Go ahead; no one else can do this!" He is also working on a film project to document the trade that once employed between three and four thousand local workers.

I know that a good number of persons will not find even recycled fur acceptable; however, in Montréal, a city with the same climate as Moscow, fur is not solely a vanity garment, nor is it necessarily a display of wealth. At a thrift recently, I spotted four vintage raccoon coats, one lined in rakish red tartan flannel. Where did they come from? All showed light wear, but no torn skins or shredded linings; the price was $75 each.

In the neighbourhood, I see such coats on young women who wear them with hiking boots and blanket scarves. The subtext seems to be, This is not 'fashion'; I'm recycling. 

The continued use of now-controversial material is a complicated matter. Some advocate the disposal of items they judge wrong in any application. Others, like me, see a place for recycling and renovation.  The decision is easier for items with no sentimental value. 

Each person will decide; our consumption of everything on the planet—whether natural or synthetic—comes with a price and, increasingly, a reckoning.