Heeding the call

From the streets of Staten Island to the dressing chambers of Andre Léon Talley, new Style and Living Correspondent David Le has the experience that most of you stupid suckers lack. So listen up.

With the holidays drawn to a close, I fear it may be too late to ask all of you to again consider the problems facing our troubled world. But there is always a time for charity—particularly now. I’ve just seen PBS’s thrilling documentary Silent Roar: The Search for the Snow Leopard. I trembled with delight as I watched this beautiful story of these highly endangered, powerful, lustrous, and mysterious beasts of the icy East. Like a silken wave crashing over the Himalayas, their growls stirred me to my very core: the snow leopards called, and I called back.

I could almost feel their lithe, throbbing bodies luminous against their mountain environs, almost smell their thick, musky scent and feel their sweet sticky breath against my neck. That cat, we'll call him Kujoro, looks at me with those eyes like fire. He crouches down and slinks towards the camera holding his tale at a jaunty angle, letting me know what his eyes had already told me.

Did you know, dear reader, that these glorious beasts are in gravest danger? Indeed, their majesty is rivaled only by the peril in which they currently find themselves. Not enough is yet known to protect them. We do know that there are only about 5,000 of these rare beauties alive today. Their numbers are rapidly declining. Something must be done.

We are separated from the snow leopards not only by geographical distance, but by a psychological distance as well. But we have the resources to bridge this gap.

Together we could purchase a visual reminder of the snow leopard crisis. I'm talking of course about a snow leopard coat (floor length, possibly with matching muff and pill box hat, maybe also a caplet for the spring?). I would do my best to wear my new coat in highly visible areas, even arranging personal viewings of me, resplendent in my male nudity, the coat hanging loosely from my bare shoulders.
There has already been talk of the Class of 2005’s Senior Gift—a faculty grant fund, a scholarship fund, and so on. Such gifts are relics of the past—of the uninviting, unwearable world of academia. I encourage the Class of 2005 to think tomorrow, to think luxuriousness, let's think snow leopards.

I would also like snow leopard boots.