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JULIE EDGAR SENIOR WRITER

eresnie & Offen Furs is respon-
sible for a lot of coddling over the
years.
They've outfitted adored wives
and girlfriends in minks, foxes,
beavers and sables. They've kept
infants warm with coyote bunting
and canines in style with mink collars. One
of their early commissions was a muskrat
"yarmulke" for a turtle named Gordon. He's
almost 30 years old now.
"We try to treat people like family; we're
here to please them," said Glenn Ceresnie,
who is in partnership with his brother Mike
and Sam Offen, a Holocaust survivor who
joined Harry and Sol Ceresnie's business in
Detroit in 1951.

As Ceresnie & Offen celebrates its 50th
year in business, the last 33 of them in Birm-
ingham, the brothers Ceresnie and Mr. Offen
say business couldn't be better.
Furs are back with a vengeance after a
stagnant period in the early '90s.
In October and November, said Glenn

Ceresnie, sales were up 30 percent from last
year. Restyling old furs into new configura-
tions, a major part of their work, was also up
by 35 percent from last year.
The three men attributed the boost to a re-
newed interest in fur among haute couture
designers.
And, Mr. Offen speculated, the increas-
ing affluence in emerging economies like Rus-
sia and China has pushed up demand for fur.
But Detroit has always been a top market,
even though far fewer furriers are in business
today. At one point in the city's history, 150
furriers peddled their pelts. Today, there
might be a dozen, Mike Ceresnie said.
"It's a dying breed, like shoemakers," Glenn
Ceresnie said.

Yet, the paucity of fur stores means places
like Ceresnie & Offen sell many more furs
now. Cleaning, storage, repairing and
restyling account for only 15 to 20 percent of
their revenues.
The plush, shiny, floor-length coats fea-
tured in the windows and racks at Ceresnie

& Offen conjure images of rich old widows
and of rowdy demonstrators tossing vials of
fake blood at them.
Both images are distortions, Mr. Offen
said.
Their average customer is female, between
35 and 40 years old, for one thing. And some
of them are the same women who denounced
their mothers in the '60s and '70s for wear-
ing fur, he said.
Today's animal rights protesters who have
staged demonstrations in front of the Wood-
ward Avenue store for the past five years
haven't really deterred customers, Mike
Ceresnie added.
"The protesters come once a year for 10 to
15 minutes," he said. "Then they go on their
merry way."
However, they have been more vocal
recently, he allowed.
Ceresnie & Offen began as Ceresnie
Brothers Furs in 1946 on Dexter Boule-
vard in Detroit. Sam Offen, who left the
Ceresnies to open Offen Furs, also on
Dexter, rejoined the Ceresnies as a part-
ner in 1960. In 1974, Mike joined the
business, followed by Glenn in 1975.
Both had worked at the Livernois Av-
enue store as teen-agers.
"I'm very proud there will be conti-
nuity in our business," Mr. Offen said,
beaming at his younger counterparts.
Today's store is deceptively small. The
showroom floor is quietly lit with track
lighting. Racks of fur and leather coats
line the walls. Every day, Mr. Offen and
the Ceresnies are on the floor selling --
a point of pride for them.
"Because the three of us are sales-
people, we can see trends," Mike Ceres-
nie pointed out.
Downstairs is a room at which three
seamstresses busily stitch up linings and
hems. Fur cutter Bogdan Wietrzynski
plies his trade, as he's done for 12 years
at the store. Fay Grauman finishes furs,
as she's done for 31 years at Ceresnie &
Offen.
Behind the workers is a huge storage
room for fur hibernation. Mannequins
draped with deconstructed furs stand
among the hubbub.
Ceresnie & Offen makes about a third of
the furs it sells.
The most popular fur is still mink, but
natural sheared beaver is so "in" right now
that Ceresnie & Offen cannot keep it in
stock.

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D E C E MB E R

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The first Jewish furriers
in Birmingham celebrate
their 50th year. They say
business is booming.

51

