I wore my mother's coat today. It is a beautiful mink coat, the fur is soft like down and my left hand moves to the other arm to embrace the wonderful texture. The fur has a sparkling sheen and is cut in a classical style which reaches to mid calf and there is a large collar to pull up around the neck to exaggerate the glamour of the look. I put it on with boots and whirled around, I was immediately transported to a world of opulence and excitement, Marilyn Monroe perhaps who looked so very sensual in a white mink, Lana Turner who claimed to have at least four mink coats, it was a Hollywood success symbol back in the fifties!.
My husband whistled with admiration but then with his usual sense of practicality and male insensitivity he looked worried and said "I hope no animal rights eccentric attacks and splashes you with paint."
I gave him a withering look but felt a niggling worry at the back of my mind. I felt like a rich Russian aristocrat but as I boarded the train into Toulouse with the backpackers, the mothers and babies in prams, and the farming wives with their sensible and dowdy attire and large shopping baskets I felt out of place, I should have been in a large limousine with a chauffeur driving around Paris. Some people would sneak a quick look at my coat pretending they weren't really looking and I wondered what they were thinking. Today was extremely cold the forecast had predicted a top of 3 degrees but the wind felt like it was coming directly off the North Pole, snow was anticipated later in the week, what better weather for a mink coat.
My father had bought my mother her coat. They had lived a glamorous lifestyle in their heyday with their children grown-up and independent and my father at the peak of his career in the top echelons of the London business world. They mixed with high society and needed to keep up appearances. My mother had evening dresses made by the latest fashion designers, I remember one in particular designed by one of the avant-garde Japanese designers making their name at this time in the world of fashion. It was spectacular and glamourous with materials in vivid colours and would have been well matched worn under a mink coat.
I had inherited my mother's coat, it had been hidden at the back of her wardrobe long before she died insulated in a plastic cover with soap in the pocket. My mother was a great believer in soap to ward off moths. I had also stored the coat in my wardrobe waiting for the appropriate occasion in which to wear it but I don't go to society functions or glamorous dances or theatre premieres so when my husband organised a trip to our favourite restaurant in Toulouse I jumped at the chance.
Emil's restaurant has been critically reviewed by our expert foodie and long-term friend Monsieur Lu at Large (web link below) and his effervescent praise and articulate descriptions are not something I would even consider emulating. Our visit was as buoyant and satisfying as Mr Lu describes.
mrlu-atlarge.blogspot.com/2011/08/restaurant-emile-in-toulouse.html
My mink coat was immediately noticed by the Maitre D, who has a tenderness for the mature lady customer, covering her with attention 'tres francais', I was no exception and his kisses on both cheeks in the Toulousian way were exaggerated by his flamboyant personality. On this occasion he took great
delight in my mink coat, I was recognised as exceptional and truly 'chic' in the French fashion. I stood up after the meal and was helped on with my mink coat and the eyes of everyone in the crowded restaurant turned to admire the style and luxury of the woman before them.
My warm and cosy mink coat
My husband whistled with admiration but then with his usual sense of practicality and male insensitivity he looked worried and said "I hope no animal rights eccentric attacks and splashes you with paint."
I gave him a withering look but felt a niggling worry at the back of my mind. I felt like a rich Russian aristocrat but as I boarded the train into Toulouse with the backpackers, the mothers and babies in prams, and the farming wives with their sensible and dowdy attire and large shopping baskets I felt out of place, I should have been in a large limousine with a chauffeur driving around Paris. Some people would sneak a quick look at my coat pretending they weren't really looking and I wondered what they were thinking. Today was extremely cold the forecast had predicted a top of 3 degrees but the wind felt like it was coming directly off the North Pole, snow was anticipated later in the week, what better weather for a mink coat.
My father had bought my mother her coat. They had lived a glamorous lifestyle in their heyday with their children grown-up and independent and my father at the peak of his career in the top echelons of the London business world. They mixed with high society and needed to keep up appearances. My mother had evening dresses made by the latest fashion designers, I remember one in particular designed by one of the avant-garde Japanese designers making their name at this time in the world of fashion. It was spectacular and glamourous with materials in vivid colours and would have been well matched worn under a mink coat.
I had inherited my mother's coat, it had been hidden at the back of her wardrobe long before she died insulated in a plastic cover with soap in the pocket. My mother was a great believer in soap to ward off moths. I had also stored the coat in my wardrobe waiting for the appropriate occasion in which to wear it but I don't go to society functions or glamorous dances or theatre premieres so when my husband organised a trip to our favourite restaurant in Toulouse I jumped at the chance.
Emil's restaurant has been critically reviewed by our expert foodie and long-term friend Monsieur Lu at Large (web link below) and his effervescent praise and articulate descriptions are not something I would even consider emulating. Our visit was as buoyant and satisfying as Mr Lu describes.
mrlu-atlarge.blogspot.com/2011/08/restaurant-emile-in-toulouse.html
My mink coat was immediately noticed by the Maitre D, who has a tenderness for the mature lady customer, covering her with attention 'tres francais', I was no exception and his kisses on both cheeks in the Toulousian way were exaggerated by his flamboyant personality. On this occasion he took great
delight in my mink coat, I was recognised as exceptional and truly 'chic' in the French fashion. I stood up after the meal and was helped on with my mink coat and the eyes of everyone in the crowded restaurant turned to admire the style and luxury of the woman before them.
My warm and cosy mink coat