If you’d looked under pets in the Yellow Pages two years ago, all you would have found would be vets and pet shops, but today stores and salons are springing up across Scotland offering everything from trendy togs for your terrier to shiatsu for your shih-tzu and manicures for your moggy.
Not surprisingly it all started in America, where dressed-up dogs became big news last year, with celebrities such as Paris Hilton and Jennifer Aniston regularly being photographed with their fashion-conscious pooches.
From LA to Falkirk, where a new internet company selling bespoke dog collars, named Fashion Four Paws, is reporting booming sales. It is a similar story at the Edinburgh-based online Dog Deli, which sells gourmet treats for food-sensitive animals (lamb’s liver and organic carrot muffins anyone?) across the globe. Elsewhere dogs are being given the kind of upmarket treatment usually reserved for celebrities. The Westin Turnberry resort in Ayrshire offers dog beds and complimentary pooper scoopers and reports that demand is high and rising. Also available are pet massage oils and designer bottled waters infused with parsley, just in case the dog wakes up with, er, dog breath.
Hang on a minute — whatever happened to a tin of Pedigree Chum and a run around the park? “Pets are seen as part of the family,” says Grant, now delicately snipping Alfie the shih-tzu, who has sleeker hair than most supermodels. “They’re family members and people want to make sure they get the best care.”
It’s doubtful whether a dog’s life is enriched by being the owner of a pair of sunglasses, a sparkling Swarovski name tag, or a black PVC visor that would make even the butchest rottweiller look like a member of Village People. Is this really a reflection of how much we love our pets, or is it about owners turning their pets into fashion accessories? “I think there’s definitely the notion of pets as fashion accessories,” says Linda Dryden, lecturer in cultural studies at Edinburgh’s Napier University. “And just like a suntan says, ‘I can afford to go on holiday’, a well-groomed, pampered dog is a similar display of wealth.”
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Mhairi Lennon, a former recruitment consultant from Motherwell who runs the pet fashion business Sunshine and Diamonds, agrees that the current fascination with upmarket, attention-grabbing dog styling has much more to do with the owners than the pets. Having started her business a year ago, she has been overwhelmed by the demand for her pet T-shirts, which feature slogans like “bitch” in diamante.
“It can definitely be a status symbol, like parents buying kids designer clothes they’ll grow out of in five minutes,” she says. “People go for anything aspirational or celebrity-approved and want things to go with their lifestyle. But there’s a trading up from the products that used to be available. Why buy a bed that doesn’t match your house when you can buy one that’ll go with the chocolate leather sofa? If people have the money, they go for luxury products, not the bog-standard stuff.”
Luxury products are becoming so commonplace that mainstream pet chain stores such as Pet World are introducing fashion into their ranges. According to a recent Mintel survey, the British pet-care market has risen by almost a quarter since 2000, making it a £3.6 billion industry. Meanwhile, the number of pet-owning households is in decline, which means a lot of very spoilt doggies and moggies.
For pets feeling stressed out by the state of their wardrobe or by too much time spent lying on the couch, there are plenty of holistic therapies available. Jill Blair, a pet aromatherapist from Glasgow, sells balms made from lavender and lemon to calm the jangling nerves associated with fetching the paper and chasing the milkman. Both Pucci and Glamour Pooch, also in Edinburgh, even employ a dog Reiki master, who will heal canine complaints with the power of natural healing energy.
With all these specialist products, though, are enthusiastic pet owners in danger of losing their grip on reality? Will our need to give them the very best deprive them of their essential dogginess? Leonora Merry at the Scottish SPCA says: “There’s a danger to putting human emotion onto animals. Yes, animals love attention, but it’s quite humiliating seeing animals dressed up. It might not cause them any stress or pain, but they’re not little dolls.”
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Lennon disagrees. She believes that some products can improve a pet’s quality of life. “I draw the line at anything that impedes the pet’s comfort,” she explains. “But when you have a little dog, they need to wear a coat in the winter because they get really cold. The new stuff is much better quality than those tartan dog jackets you used to get.”
Apparently, the bestseller in Scotland this year is the dog parka, which is flying off the shelves. “It’s Liam Gallagheresque,” enthuses Lennon.
Similarly, the pet beauty industry might be filled with expensive lotions, potions and hocus pocus, but Grant insists that grooming has its practical applications as part of a basic care routine. “Most dogs come in here every six to eight weeks. They get their hair cut, their nails done, their ears plucked, their anal gland cleaned . . . ” Perhaps, after that, a bow in the hair is a welcome distraction? “Animals really like attention lavished on them. It’s just a bit of fun.”
The official SSPCA line is “everything in moderation”. Whether the pampered pet industry knows what moderation is, is another matter. In America it has reached new heights of preposterousness, with dog yoga (known, predictably enough, as “doga”), tiaras and leopard-print pet chaise longues all the rage among the most cutting-edge canines. It can only be a matter of time before monogrammed beach towels and doggie wedding gowns (I kid you not) make their way into the hearts and homes of the Scottish pet owner.
But what do the animals think of it all? Superficial nonsense? Or well-earned treat? Back in Edinburgh, Lulu is ready for her close-up. Her newly pink tail is the colour of candy floss, she is wearing a blue bow on her fluffy forehead, and a harness festooned with pink rubber flowers. She looks ridiculous, but if she is nervous or uneasy, it doesn’t show. In fact, if you made her roll around in the mud with a bone, she looks as if she would throw a tantrum to rival Mariah Carey.
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“Lulu has been coming in here since she was a puppy,” Grant explains, proudly. “She runs in here and scratches at the door to come in. Look at her — she thinks she owns the place.”