I was happy to see this quote from fashion editor Brandusa Niro in the glossy supplement that accompanied the new issue of Town and Country, because it so exactly mirrors my own feelings. The photograph that appears with the quote (and her list of Fall must-haves), shows a smiling woman with short, blonde hair, but I can tell that our souls are twins.

Just last month, I was in Wisconsin to visit the Keelhauler's family, and upon looking out the window, saw an animal skirting the woods at the edge of the lawn. It was bulky, with a lush, dark-brown coat, and moved with a rippling motion. The Keelhauler explained to me that it was a fisher, which explains why I didn't recognize it: the last time I'd seen one, it was dyed indigo and in sewn into a bolero, on sale for $16,000 at Filene's Basement in Boston.

I had petitioned the Keelhauler, who declined to buy it for me, which is a shame, really, given that fur is all the rage this Fall. My promises to keep it safe and properly stored did nothing to warm his heart, something I reminded him of as we watched the fisher disappear into the shadows. Sixteen thousand dollars, that bolero cost. You wouldn't see me in it, running heedlessly through the underbrush, which is what the fisher was doing. "He doesn't even appreciate it!" I complained, pointing out the window. "He's going to wade through that stream and come out covered with foxtails!" Illogical, yes, but such was the intensity of my rage.

A day or so later, I witnessed a full-grown deer with a lovely caramel-colored hide scratching her side against the bark of an elm tree. Just scraping the hairs right off. They have no respect, these animals, for the coats the good Lord gave them, which is why I feel absolutely no shame at confiscating them for my own use. You can bet I won't be trouncing through mud puddles in my new deerskin riding boots.

Lately, I have come to think it a shame that so many people are allergic to kittens, because they come in such delightful shades. Have you ever seen a purebred Blue Russian? Their coat is a deep silver-grey, flattering to all skin tones. Just lush. I suppose some sensitive types might get upset at the idea of creating a floor-length opera cape from a couple of dozen show cats, but really: these people need to understand that only a human can fully appreciate and care for these fine furs.

That goes for all fur, really. Let's get it out of the forests and, once properly lined with silk satin and embroidered with our initials, hung in cold storage, where it can be preserved and cared for. I see no reason not to.