Fashion Masochist: The Lap Cat

When celebutantes like Paris Hilton began toting their pooches in public, the stunt prompted head turns—and the ever desirable camera flash. But five seasons of reality TV later, the sweater-wearing teacup pup has become more ho-hum than a Motorola Razr. Meanwhile, cats are trendy like never before. Last February an oversize Persian accompanied Trovata-clad attendees through New York Fashion Week in what turned out to be a successful publicity gambit for the hip brand. Now cats are inspiring products galore, and showing up in fall collections from D&G to Valentino.

The Experiment My 12-week-old Bengal kitten, Tyra, couldn’t be a more stylish choice: Suitably sleek at just a pound, she’s about the size of a grapefruit, and has cheetahlike spots magnificently suggestive of YSL’s fall bucket tote. She’s also incredibly poised, happy to sit politely on a lap or shoulder…at least until a butterfly, leaf, or piece of lint arrives on the scene.

For a girls’ afternoon in the city, my petite friend—too tiny for regulation cat accessories—sports a blue ferret harness and a gold leash that complement her fierce coat. As I carry her through the South End, my usually too-cool neighbors react with smiles; many actually initiate conversation. Dog owners and their slobbery charges, meanwhile, look as outdated as Uggs and go unceremoniously ignored.

During an al fresco lunch at Eastern Standard, the staff is absurdly attentive, offering constant head rubs and praise, while a friend and I field questions as if we’re simply part of Tyra’s entourage. Unlike needy canines, the cat graciously enjoys the attention but with a fashionably aloof air that keeps admirers coming back.

Next stop, Copley Place. I’m prepared to face strict mall rules regarding “allergies” and “sanitation.” Instead, the guards beam. And with Tyra in tow, I find that every store’s service surpasses the usual. The middle-aged manager at Jimmy Choo typically gives me a snooty greeting and a once-over. Today he gushes and begs to hold Tyra. I let him, while I eye a pricey pair of leopard mules, and envy my lucky kitten for owning the look for free.

The Verdict Similar reactions transpire at Barneys, Dior, Louis Vuitton (where I encounter not only serious cat lovers but a Boston intern playing hooky), Tiffany, and Ferragamo. It’s clear that the cat is no longer my accessory; I am hers. I buy nothing, and we head home for a nap.