THE MAN IN FUR

Hello people. I am Lady Fur’s grandmother. I am 77 years old but I look younger. I’ve traveled enough in the past and I’m sorry that I cannot do it anymore because of my age.

I worked for many years at the State TV’s Center for Radio Production, always in the entertainment world. Perhaps the environment, or more likely my father’s side birth genes (he was one of seven brothers, one more original than the other), helped me to take life philosophically and face it calmly even in unpleasant circumstances.

I am a blogger, probably one of the oldest in the Web, and I like to publish pages telling about either episodes of my past or events happening to me on a daily basis.

Lady Fur has taught me the ABC of the computer science and has begged me to assist her, from time to time, by writing what goes through my head. I have always liked to write and so I am more than happy to lend a hand to my indomitable granddaughter who is courageous venturing into this so fascinating and mysterious world.

Here, then, just to start with, the story of what happened to me many, many years ago……

I was twenty years old. I was pretty and, according to many, able to adapt to any situation: this is the reason why I was in great demand.

As regards our approach to the men’s environment, the element that most attracted our attention was surely the “technical” one. And if besides being the leader of an outer team (that is those who -on board of an equipped car – went everywhere for filming) the same man was also at the second or third place in the ranking of the “beautifuls” of the moment, you can imagine my delight when, accidentally meeting me at the coffee maker, the person in question asked me if I was interested in seeing a particular movie with him.

I omit the details of the preparation of both the outfit and the makeup and so, as God wished, I showed up to the appointment.

I was perfectly aware that I had managed to attract the attention of a boy very required in that environment, and being in the middle of winter I had decided to wear a beautiful camel-wool coat, complete with a mink hat and two delightful little creatures of the same race elegantly knotted as a scarf.

You can imagine my surprise when I saw the object of my temporary desires to appear while wrapped in a delicious black astrakhan coat! Nowadays a man in fur does not affect much, but at the end of the fifties, to be by a beautiful boy dressed as a Vogue model literally left me breathless. When, at the end of the evening, after the farewell embrace, I realized that my camel hair was transmigrated on his black fur by spotting it with delicious, almost white tufts, I suddenly re-found my lost breath, which allowed me to run away without looking back with a sprinter-worthy burst of speed.

Xoxo Granny