I keep coming back to the same question every winter.
What makes a fur jacket any different from a leather one?
Both are sourced from an animal’s exterior, both have a place in our culture’s history, and both are praised for their quality and visual appeal. Yet, why does one invite more backlash while the other quietly hangs in many of our closets — mine included?
Before fur was viewed as a controversial issue, within the early chapters of our civilization it was practicality, animal pelts were essential for warmth and survival, it was used for protection before it became a symbolic notion within our society. Aside from its essential use, animal use became cultural — it was spiritual and sacred. At what point did it become a sign of status?
As I began digging deeper into this loophole, I came across an opening line from one of Vogue’s archived issues, “The Fur Story of 1929.”
“Go without jewels, pocket money or every-day clothes, Vogue advises, but never try to scrimp on fur. For the fur you wear will reveal to everyone the kind of woman you are and the kind of life you lead,” the line reads.
My left eyebrow spiked up reading that, reminding me of our Valley’s fashion output, specifically Aspen’s. Aspen’s culture is known for its frontier history and the wealth alongside it. Those who have strolled Aspen’s retail spaces have no doubt spotted tourists in fur and Kemo Sabe hats with a strip of leather wrapping the circumference of the head piece, while shopping in high end luxury stores.
Wearing a fur coat in Aspen is like going to Disneyland with your Mickey ears. Fur coats went from mountain survival to symbols of status, like costumes for Aspen’s social language. I attempted to contact a couple local sellers on their ethical outputs when it comes to their market. One politely declined to comment and the other didn’t respond by press deadline.
Earlier this year (three weeks ago) I boomeranged back to the question previously mentioned as I sat in a conference room in New York City with Vogue’s operatives, listening to their say on sustainability in the fashion industry (pretty complex I must say).
On my way to the financial district I came across a poster that quickly grasped my attention: “CFDA [Council of Fashion Designers of America] + NYFW [New york fashion week] = puppy killers. GO FUR FREE.”
As a fashion fanatic myself, I digitally dug into the regulations that come with the craftsmanship behind these goods, when I happened to see Kim Kardashian’s recent paparazzi pictures in a W Magazine article highlighting a carousel of her looks during her stay in Aspen. The magazine describes her as “dressed to the nines, of course, in an outfit that looked straight out of the 2000s.”
“She layered a Roberto Cavalli fur coat from 2000 over the Italian brand’s lace-up leather trousers,” the magazine continues, depicting one of her multiple Aspen outfits. “A vintage Dolce & Gabbana corset held it all together and an extra-long fur scarf from Hermès completed the look.”
Last Christmas, she received backlash from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) for giving each of her children a puppy of their own. Her response? Cover her hourglass figure in fur and leather goods, from head-to-toe.
Circling back to CFDA, the organization’s new policy on fur use states, “Beginning with September 2026 New York Fashion Week, the CFDA will no longer permit animal fur in collections on the Official NYFW Schedule. This timeline gives designers space to adjust their materials and show plans. … An exemption applies only to animal fur obtained by Indigenous communities through traditional subsistence hunting practices.”
What stood out to me was what wasn’t addressed: leather.
“Many people happily wear leather on the grounds that it’s a byproduct of animal slaughter for meat and therefore a form of recycling,” a 2008 The Guardian column states.
Is it though?
The column continues to describe that a lot of bovine leather (cow skin), specifically, is a byproduct coming from the meat industry. According to Leather Naturally, “99% of the leathers are made from livestock, (that is cattle, sheep, goats and pigs) and they are a by-product of the meat industry.”
What about the 1%? Especially with pattern-driven facades, how does that supply and demand aspect of the industry affect that percentage?
Snake print for instance increased its presence in various wardrobes in 2025. Production-wise, the Collective Fashion Justice summarizes the process: “Sold skins ripped from snakes are then tanned with largely the same carcinogenic chemicals used in the leather industry. These chemicals harm workers and communities surrounding tanneries, as well as the environment.”
Alongside that, a short video from PETA Asia further walks us through the barbarized process, describing how, “workers place rubber bands around their [the snakes’] mouths and anus,” and “slowly kill them by inflating them with an air compressor.”
“One worker alleged that these snakes were improperly stunned using a car battery — suggesting that they are alive and able to feel pain,” the video continues.
And that’s just for clothes made from python. What about fashion made with ostriches, zebras?
Fashion doesn’t just operate on logical use — it partakes in storytelling, communicating our values, history and personal narratives. Did we take our anthropologic traditions too far?
Maybe the question isn’t whether these goods belong in fashion anymore — but why we’re still drawing moral lines that feel selective rather than resolved. Fashion, after all, is fluent in illusion. It teaches us what to look away from just as much as what to admire. And maybe that’s the real discomfort beneath all of this — not the pieces hanging in our closets, but the stories we tell ourselves to keep them there.