GREAT BALLS OF FUR: Inside Wilmington’s Fur Ball
- Vasili Moschouris
- 3 days ago
- 7 min read
When I was invited to the Wilmington Fur Ball, I expected a humble operation — the sort of black-tie dinner you might catch through a church window, honoring something like a local football win or a treasured community member’s overdue retirement. I did not ever suspect that I would hike up into Mayfaire on an otherwise uneventful night to find hundreds of people across all ages, genders, colors and creeds, crowding into a building hidden away in one of Wilmington’s myriad concrete high-rise office-park-slash-apartment complexes, dressed in opulent ball gowns straight out of “Bridgerton,” three-foot wigs and pink feather boas, and bulbous jewels that would make every Kate from Winslet to Windsor swoon. When I asked about the dress code, my only guidance was a white shirt and black pants — and as I watch an honest-to-god attendant hold the heavy glass door for a crowd of six women in platinum ball gowns, I thank the Lord I made the last minute addition of my blue-checkered jacket — which, I had feared, would be too ostentatious.
Trailing behind that merry band, I stop at the check-in table and give them the spiel — I’m Vasilios from Encore magazine, here to do an article — cricking my neck with every other word as more and more extravagantly dressed guests pass into the hall behind me. The ladies at the check-in direct me to speak to Norma Troutman, a slender older woman in a floor length hoop skirt: scarlet and bronze, accented with brilliant silver.
“Let me take you up to the President,” she says.
The President? I think. My goodness. I guess I’ve made it.
As Norma tells it on our way up, the Wilmington Fur Ball began in 2005, as a small event to raise funds for the Pender County Humane Society. Now, 20 years later, it’s become an annual staple of the Wilmington animal activism scene, one that has raised over $342,000 for local no-kill shelters around the tri-county area. Last year, the Fur Ball raised $42,000, and tonight, supported by both a live and silent auction, as well as by local and national sponsors, ranging everywhere from Rebellion to the Coca-Cola Company, the goal is $50,000 — to be distributed as grants to the thirteen animal organizations the Fur Ball partners with.
Our journey to the President is a slow one — not only because Norma’s enormous dress, as well as all the others, makes moving through the halls crowded with patrons and auction items a bit tricky; but because at almost every turn, Norma is pulled into conversation: attendees she knows from years past or present greeting her with smiles and hugs; volunteers and organizers asking her for guidance. But despite how in-demand her attention is, Norma never turns anyone away—fielding each and every one of them with a grace far greater than even her dress and jewels could conjure. She’s a quintessential Southern belle, if ever there was one, and even after just five minutes of knowing her, it’s no surprise that she’s regarded as the Fur Ball’s backbone, though she’d likely never say so herself.
“I’m just the Treasurer,” she says. “You need to talk to Taffy.”
When at last we meet the President, Taffy Collopy, a small woman in a red ball gown, she sings much the same tune as we make our way onto the balcony for a quick interview. “Norma’s the one who knows how to do all this,” Taffy says. “I’m just the figurehead.”
The whole team (including Vice President Steve Willett), it seems, are just about the humblest people in Wilmington. I mean, I’ve known folks who’ve gotten territorial over an open mic night, let alone an event worth over a quarter-million dollars, but as they tell me their 20-year history — their rise from humble fundraiser to a blowout ball too big even for downtown — Norma and Taffy all but refuse any credit thrown their way. In fact, for as omnipresent as they are throughout the evening — for how often their aid or attention is sought, and how freely they give it out — the Fur Ball’s organizers are almost invisible — except, of course, for their attire; Fur Ball VP Tre Ricanek steals the show in full Marie Antionette glam, complete with three-tiered, pearl-strung wig. Nothing brings people together like a theme.
Instead, the spotlight is shone instead upon all the lives their work has impacted. On twin screens flanking the ballroom’s stage, a slideshow flips through photo after photo of smiling dogs and sleeping kittens — animals that had been left in dumpsters or found starving on the street, now in their forever homes thanks to the efforts of the people gathered here.
“People love their animals,” Taffy says. It’s a simple statement, but they don’t come any truer. It’s hard, in this political moment, to think of anything in the world that could really, truly, bring people together — a common cause that won’t just turn into another talking point to lob across the aisle. But all I can see when I look out at the crowd packed into that ballroom are people, with no affiliation but to all our furry friends. In fact, I learn, they’ve extended their efforts to encompass all animals, including wildlife, through partnering with groups like Coastal Carolina Wildlife Rehab, a previous grant recipient.
“Why are animals so important to you?” I ask. An obvious question, I think, but one worth asking. It’s not often one puts on a gala for something they don’t care about.
Taffy and Norma think it over for a moment; a rare sprig of quiet in the fervor of the party just beyond the balcony doors.
“They can’t speak for themselves,” Norma says.
***
Once the ladies of the hour return to their duties, I make a few loops around the ballroom. The halls are packed with auction goodies: dog toys and plush beds, of course; coupons and gift cards and Rolex watches; pieces made by local artisans, and even two paintings made by a local canine artist! I make a few offers here and there — how could I not? It’s increasingly rare to know exactly where your money’s going, but in this room, at least, I do.
As the night goes on, I speak to a few attendees and volunteers — I want to get a sense for what would bring the average person to something like this. A few delegates from UNCW’s women’s softball team working as wait staff — a tradition they’ve built over the past four years — tell me it’s the people that keep them coming back. “They make us feel like a part of the night,” they say. “It’s incredible to recognize people from years past, and build that connection over the years.”
“It also lets us see a different side of Wilmington,” another volunteer tells me. “You’d never think something like this is happening here, or that it’s been going on so long.”
Another set of guests — Rich and Nicole Garrigan — offer much the same reasoning as the Fur Ball’s organizers: a deep and genuine love for animals of all shapes and sizes; a reverence for life, in all its forms. As we converse, they tell me stories that I’m sure many of tonight’s patrons could relate to: from going out in the middle of the night to track down a neighbor’s missing dog, leaving food and blankets out for bewildered possums, even to easing cockroaches gently out of open doors.
“Animals are living things,” they say. “They have lives, just like ours, but they can’t help themselves. So we have to help them.”
***
For 20 years, much longer, most likely, than any of us have ever endeavored to do anything, these incredible people have been working tirelessly and selflessly, opening their arms to every organization who shares their mission. As I stand at a table orbiting the dining room, packed full of representatives from each of the thirteen animal groups the Fur Ball works with, seeing the faces of every life they’ve worked to save scroll past up on the screens, I think, what a rare and precious thing these people have built.
It’s almost impossible to detect the meaning or the impact of one’s acts of goodwill, in a world that every day turns crueler, compels us to believe it’s only cruel. But here, tonight, there is no cause but that of the common dignity of life — our duty not only to preserve it, but to support it, fulfill it, celebrate it. Yes, it’s true, the war may never be won — out there, every day, there will be hurt and fear and pain; living things suffering in indignity through no fault of their own. But the Wilmington Fur Ball, and all the countless hands that made it happen, from the organizers to the volunteers, the sponsors and the auctioneers, prove that for as long as that battle goes on, there will always be folks willing to fight it.
You’d never think so, but it’s true: yes, somewhere, everywhere, there are people working together. In a world full of questions, there’s nothing so refreshing as standing in a room full of people, proving to ourselves that yes, we can still make a difference. Yes, this world is, and will always be, full of folks who care.
Final donation amounts will be announced later this year, with grant awardees to be announced in January. If you’d like to learn more about the Wilmington Fur Ball, the many organizations it helps, to get involved or just to make sure you don’t miss next year’s soirée, visit WilmingtonFurBall.com.
You can view all Fur Ball 2025 photos by Photo District here.
