What I really want to write about is a post on a 60s mink jacket by the blogger une femme d'un certain age, but I guess I have to do my frugal duties first.
Frugal Fun: Last night, we visited Frugal Son at college. We needed to bring him his French grammar book. Luckily, since we are in the biz, we were able to borrow this $150.00 tome. Merci bien! That's frugal right there.
Frugal Fan(s): Then,we were treated to dinner on his board card. In the cafeteria, we met two important people. First, we spoke to the manager of the cafeteria, an energetic and well-dressed fellow, who clearly adores his job (which is a big one, since several thousand people eat every day). Frugal Son had told him about my mention of the high quality of the food on this very blog. He shook my hand and said, "You said it was restaurant quality, not cafeteria quality." He was so happy. I am definitely a fan of this guy.
On our way out, Frugal Son said, "That's lleger!" A reader of this blog! Hi lleger and thanks for the tips.
Frugal Fur: I am a terrible typist and actually typed furgal fur. If I do that again, it's not because I think it's funny.
This morning, I checked out the blog of une femme, a stylish woman, who is a fantastic writer. She wrote about scoring a 60s mink jacket. Hey, I have a jacket that looks just like hers. I bought it a few years ago at Goodwill, where it was hanging with the regular old coats and not with the "Special Prices" stuff. I'm sure it had not been scooped up because it was about 98 degrees outside and so customers probably were not scoping out the coat racks.
I was going to send la femme a comment (and I will do that), but I wanted to mention my furry credentials. As la femme points out, this mink would have been dead long ago anyway, so don't get all righteous over this.
Besides, I have a certain fondness for fur. I strive to be PC in all things, but I have a reason for my fondness. My grandfather Harry came to the United States as a small boy with his mother and siblings. This was around 1910. At Ellis Island, they were met by the dad, Benny, who had saved for their passage.
Does this sound like the sequel to "Fiddler on the Roof"? Well, it is. Benny died in 1913, after the hospital botched up treatment for something relatively minor (or so the story goes). Harry, age 10, and his older brother, age 12, had to go to work to help support the family. They sold candy at factories. Their mother Rose, who was pregnant with her fifth child, opened a small grocery store with the proceeds.
A few years later, Harry and a friend, whose last name was Ferrara (as far as I know, he didn't have a first name), had an entrepeneurial idea. They went to the factories that made fur coats and asked if they could buy the scraps. Thus started their business of making fur collars, cuffs, and muffs from the scraps.
As a little girl in the 60s, when girls had to wear wool coats and dreadful leggings, I always had a grandpa-made fur collar. I had the best coats!
Mr. Ferrara retired, but into his 90s my grandfather continued with the business. The last time I saw him, he was gluing little fur mustaches onto Groucho Marx masks.
So it is no wonder that I bought that mink jacket at Goodwill. I am enough of my grandfather's granddaughter to know that there is good mink and not-so-good mink. You can tell when you touch it. My Goodwill find is not so good. But that's OK.
Anyway, please read the Fur Story on the blog of une femme d'un certain age: http://www.unefemme.net/2009/01/that-touch-of-mink.html