LOVE THE CHOO

LOVE THE CHOO

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fur or against

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I’m not quite sure whether I’m for or against real fur. One part of me loves real fur, but another part of me hates it. I find real fur to look amazing, feel amazing and to be very luxurious. But at the same time, I find the whole process cruel and mean. If everyone stopped buying real fur, what would happen to the animals? Would they be allowed to live their lives out happily or would they be used for some other cause?

When looking at the arguments for fur a lot of people agreed that one of the main benefits was the fact is keeps you warm. It really does! I was given a wolf coat a few Christmas’s ago and I can say it has never been nearly cold enough to wear it! People also argued that a lot of fur comes from farms, where the animals have a decent life before they are killed. Another point that came up quite frequently was the process in making fake fur. Fake fur is made from oil, which can be a long, dirty, brutal process that can have consequences.

Although all the above points could sway someone’s opinion on real fur, there still is the big thing that innocent animals are being killed for fashion.

The Prize Calf

I’ve been working in retail for almost 6 years now, and I have met a lot of different types of people. Some of them have been lovely, some have been captivating, some have been rude and some have been supreme idiots.

The shop I work in sells a wide range of products from leather luggage to clothing. There is a certain type of customer we get in, that no matter what you tell them, they will never listen to your advice.

An example of this would be a customer I had in one Saturday afternoon. She was in her mid 40’s, very pleasant lady, slightly heavy and had calves as big as Beth Ditto’s. She had put aside a pair of black patent croc boots which she couldn’t wait to buy. I suggested to her that before she go ahead and buy the boots, she should probably try them on as we don’t offer a refund. Looking at the boot and her calf, I knew there was no way in hell that she was going to get it round her leg, but I thought I’d let her have a go anyway. As I had guessed, she couldn’t get the zip up, she asked me if I’d give it a go. After being crouched down on the floor for ten minutes trying to drag the zip up her leg, I admitted defeat and told her there was no way they were going to go up, and even if they did the zip would jam or break. I brought over another pair of very similar boots, that did go up! Fantastic I thought. I took the boots to the till for the lady and after about 10 minutes wondered why she hadn’t followed me up the stairs, I assumed she had just got side tracked looking at other things so I wandered back down stairs to check out the situation. I was completely shocked to see the lady had in fact managed to squeeze her legs into the boot and was repeating “They are a perfect fit! Look! See!” I then turned round to see my poor 16-year colleague looking like she’d just ran a 10k with bleeding fingers. It had turned out, that the lady had insisted on trying the original pair of boots on again, and my colleague was too shy to say that they wouldn’t go up.

The lady ended up with a pair of boots that were most definitely going to cut off her circulation and give her varicose veins and we were left with £55 in the till and a member of staff with very sore fingers.