This is a fab and rare 1960s mouton sheepskin and vinyl thong belted gathered cinch waist fur coat, that deserves a study in its own right as an iconic piece saying much about the aesthetic and attitude of the time. Without this, it is difficult for the modern eye to appreciate it, so I'll elaborate on that later.
It is a UK size 10 to 12 I would say, I am a UK 8 and its a little big for me, but ok. But you wouldn't want to be bigger than a smaller size UK 12 either, though it is meant to be a tight fit. It is a utility fur coat not a 'posh' one, and ideal for day to day wear. Team with knee or over knee boots of course!
It is a dark brown mouton (sheepskin) fur, with as well as the inbuilt belted area, both a paler brown, a horizontal band of the same half way down the skirt area. The only fault I can see with it I felt a little rougher spot on the otherwise soft fur, on the elbow, and it appears to have been darned at that point though not visible the pile covers it. It has two hip front positioned pockets . The vinyl is quite think and rubber like, rather than the fabric backed faux leather you get these days and indeed no attempt to make it look leather its proud of itself for being vinyl. I also have a Sportowne Borgazia black faux fur in stock which has the same gathered lash waisted structure, yet that despite the fur being faux is real leather. So sorry vegans you are out of luck neither were done for you it was just experimental time with juxtaposition of materials. It has no maker's labels sadly but is well made and even has a satin belt cover still in one of the pockets. It has been worn a lot I'd say yet still plenty of life left in it seems very sturdy.
It would date from sometimes between 1965 & 1969. Probably 66 or 67 I'd say. So ideal for the sophisticated Mod or New Psych inclined style wise.
There is a particular tension that hums beneath the surface of 1960s fashion—a charge that feels, even now, both playful and faintly transgressive. It is the echo of a cultural shift: from postwar propriety to a new language of style that flirted with taboo, only to render it charming, ironic, and entirely modern.
At the center of this undercurrent lies an unlikely literary ancestor: Venus in Furs. Its themes—devotion, power, adornment, and the theatricality of control—filtered into the decade not as something heavy or illicit, but as aesthetic suggestion. By the 1960s, these ideas had been softened, stylized, and reframed through pop culture, music, and fashion into something visually striking rather than morally provocative.
Hence my spirit of the age and garment song is Venus in Furs by the Velvet Underground....although it's vinyl not leather, it is fur, and you'd certainly wear it with kinky boots of either material at the time! And the way that waist cinches you tightly and ties with a vinyl lash well you get the picture.
You see the aforementioned spirit first in the music scene, where velvet, leather, rubber, lurex and an air of languid decadence began to replace the crisp tailoring of earlier years. There was a knowingness to it, a kind of artistic costume that hinted at deeper narratives without ever insisting upon them. At the same time, figures like Marianne Faithfull—whose lineage itself quietly tied back to the author of Venus in Furs—Baron von Sacher Masoch embodied this convergence of innocence and suggestion. Draped in furs, pale and wide-eyed, she presented a paradox: purity styled through the language of decadence.
She had a hooped fur coat herself this kind of style, with horizontal bands with leather or similar between them.
And so fashion absorbed these cues with remarkable lightness. Leather was no longer solely practical; it gleamed. Vinyl entered the wardrobe with a modern twist. Fur—once the unquestioned emblem of mid-century luxury—underwent a subtle but profound transformation. It became younger, sharper, and just a little mischievous. Don't worry your grandma wasn't a dominatrix for wearing this & kinky boots any more than she'd have been an astronaut for wearing the space age fashions or a cowboy for wearing the western fashions or a soldier for wearing the Victorian military looks of the time.
The mouton coat, in particular, captures this evolution perfectly. Where once it might have been worn as a statement of status, by the mid-60s it took on a new silhouette and attitude. Cinched at the waist vinyl panel, 'gathered' (ie it concertinas well you pull the lash)and secured with a lash-like belt closure, it suggests something more than warmth. Though for sure you feel snuggly bound against the fiercest of winds it is heavy and warm.. There is structure, certainly—but also a whisper of restraint, of control, of stylized drama.
This is the genius of the era: it flirted with the language of kink without ever surrendering to it. Everything was filtered through experimentation, through youth, through a sense of play. The result was not seedy but spirited—an exploration of visual codes that felt daring precisely because they were worn so lightly.
In this context, the fur coat becomes more than a garment. It is a cultural artifact, carrying within it the layered influences of literature, music, and television. It is softness meeting gloss, tradition meeting rebellion. It is, in essence, the 1960s itself: bold, curious, and unafraid to turn even the most unexpected inspirations into something entirely new.
The coat itself carries the entire story in its construction—a piece that feels at once substantial and subversively modern. Cut from deeply sheared, near-black brown mouton, it has a reassuring weight, the kind that anchors it physically while its design quietly disrupts expectation. This is not the airy glamour of earlier decades; it is grounded, deliberate, and unmistakably of its moment.
Where 1950s furs flowed in long, vertical sweeps and pelts—designed to elongate, to soften, to signal effortless elegance—this coat resists that language entirely. The 1960s furs pelts were arranged horizontally, banded with intention, creating a subtle visual rhythm across the body. This while is mouton so not 'pelted' as such, there is that horizontal vinyl band to enhance the 'bound' aesthetic The effect is almost architectural. It doesn’t glide; it holds. It frames the wearer rather than draping her.
That sense of containment is sharpened by the introduction of vinyl—though “vinyl” hardly captures its exact character. It has a muted, rubberized finish, sitting somewhere between utility and artifice. Wrapped around the waist, it forms a cinched panel that gathers the coat inward, secured with a lash-like belt closure. The gesture is unmistakable, yet restrained: a suggestion of binding, translated into design.
Echoing this, a narrow horizontal band of the same material cuts across the lower half of the coat, just under an inch wide. It is a small detail, but a decisive one. It reinforces the horizontal logic of the piece, repeating the idea of segmentation, of controlled structure. Together, these elements create a visual language of subtle restraint—not restrictive, but intentional, as though the coat itself is composed, held in place.
The silhouette remains firmly mid-1960s. The length falls to the knee, practical and sharp, lending itself perfectly to the rising dominance of the boot—sleek, assertive, and just suggestive enough to complete the look without tipping into excess. The collar is modest, with a small lapel that frames the face without drama, avoiding the exaggerated gestures that would define the early 1970s. There is no flare yet from the waist, no sweeping A-line; instead, the line is clean, controlled, and quietly assertive.
