Yes, the only Mom on the corner wearing mink

I have a mink coat. This is exactly what it looks like:

It's a gorgeous coat. My late mother-in-law gave it to me several years ago. She had stopped wearing it and felt it was a waste to keep it hanging in her closet all winter and placed in cold storage all summer. It's soft and luxurious and without any doubt, the warmest garment I have ever been lucky enough to put on.

I wore it occasionally, mostly if I were out in the evening to the theatre or the symphony. I thought the crowd there would be accepting of my sartorial choice. If they weren't wearing their own fur, I assumed they'd be a little envious of mine.

I also wore it on the coldest days of winter when I had to go up the street and stand on the corner waiting for the school bus when William was a little guy. It was freezing cold out there and I was the only Mom on the corner wearing mink. It made the wait bearable though.

I haven't worn the coat for quite a long time. I love it but I realize now that I always felt a little self-conscious when I was wearing it. I assumed people were looking at me – I honestly don't know if they really were – and I found that idea kind of uncomfortable.

I also felt guilty. I am completely opposed to killing animals for their fur and I wondered if I should wear a little sign to that effect – or maybe print small pamphlets to hand out while I was wearing it. I wanted to explain that I would never have bought it myself and I don't in any way encourage or condone the fur industry but it already existed and it had been given to me.

I considered lying to people and telling them it was faux-fur. "They're doing a wonderful job these days of making it look like real fur," I would say.

If the truth be known, I also always feared that someone might, against all likelihood, throw red paint at me. I wasn't thinking of the coat being ruined. I was thinking of the aggression and how upsetting it would be. I didn't like the idea of drawing attention to myself in a negative way and perhaps having to deal with the consequences.

So I gradually – not consciously – stopped wearing the coat. I still have it. I still remember how sumptuous it felt to snuggle into it.

I'm talking myself into getting it out and wearing it on very select occasions.

I'll let you know how it goes.