Philly’s furry convention is about tails, lust, and friendship

The people who donned neon-colored animal heads with wide cartoon eyes and swishing striped tails at the Sheraton downtown on a recent weekend had first been drawn to the furry fandom because of Looney Tunes. Or Disney’s Robin Hood. Or the professional silver fox mascot who used to cheer on the New Jersey Nets.

The root inspiration wasn’t important. In an ebullient pocket of Philadelphia, thousands of furries gathered for the eighth annual Furrydelphia. It was a celebration of the goofy, imaginative furry subculture, in which people dress up as fantastical animals with human personalities in elaborate, custom-made costumes.

By day, they work regular jobs, as marketing managers and supermarket clerks. But as part of their hobby, for one weekend a year, they come to Philadelphia to don costumes, buy art, see old friends, and party.

“It’s something that’s considered silly and cringe by the mainstream, so everyone that’s into it is very unabashed about it,” said “Radar” Sorace, who was attending Furrydelphia with the rest of his polycule, a polyamorous unit involving multiple people.

His partner, who goes by Indica “Worm” Sparkz, had gotten him into the scene with the enticement that he could dress up as a Crocuta (crocuta) spelaea, or a prehistoric laughing hyena.

“[Worm] made me a fursona,” Radar said, “and that was kind of the death knell for me.”

Worm has been in the fandom since they were 10, initially captivated by another kid drawing dogs on the bus. Now they’re 23.

For this year’s convention, Worm was a seal, a character they described as “a magical girl by day and a digital artist by night, because digital artists never sleep.” For their fursuit, or animal costume, they had transformed a blank resin doll head into an adorable worm head, with nose and cheek piercings and strips of pink faux-fur hair, which Radar stroked as they talked.

They were excited to attend a panel for those curious about keeping fish and other aquatic animals as pets.

Behind them, an attendee in a jersey and a dog head raced to catch a ball.

Furries have long been thought of, in the public imagination, as fetishists focused, above all, on having sex in their fursuits. But the reality is more nuanced. The convention’s organizers and attendees described furrydom as a way of embodying a character that often represents the best, most creative, and, yes, hottest version of a person.

“I’m 5’8,” a little bit heavyset, and I have receding red hair in my early 30s,“ said Randy “Drayne” Hill, the chair of Furrydelphia. “My character is 6’4, muscular, handsome, suave, and has nice hair. That’s not me. But it’s all things I wish, and that’s my self-expression.”

Sex can be part of the experience, some attendees said, mostly because being fully oneself is sexy. Some convention attendees made out in the hotel lobby, and room parties — public parties in attendees’ hotel rooms that are sometimes NSFW — were advertised in elevators and hallways.

“Conventions in general have a huge hookup scene, especially the nerdy ones,” said Cap “Hyphae” Buck, 23, and Worm’s other partner.

“God, the anime conventions …,” Worm agreed.

Over the years, the furry subculture has become more and more mainstream — roughly 20,000 people descend on Pittsburgh each year for Anthrocon, one of the largest conventions of its kind in the country. A record 3,700 people came to Furrydelphia this year, a 35% jump from 2024. All weekend, furries could be seen snapping photos at LOVE Park and running up the Art Museum steps.

At the Sheraton, where the convention spanned three floors, some attendees wore full suits, unrecognizable behind their furs, while others donned “partials” — hand or foot paws, tails, and heads, with street clothes in between. Almost all the gear is custom-made by individual artists, but the aesthetic can look more mass-produced cartoon than boutique invention.

The suits, though, have designer prices. Dom the Reindeer, a 32-year-old who works in digital marketing for a tech nonprofit, had paid $5,100 for a headpiece featuring enormous lime-green antlers.

A black-and-white jackal who called himself Koss estimated that his fursuit had cost him about $7,000. He currently owns two fursuits, rotating through 10 since he joined the fandom. He became a furry in 2006, on the down-low.

Koss lives in D.C. and works in cybersecurity, though he wouldn’t say much more than that.

“I just don’t want it to come back to me or be associated in that way,” he said of being a furry.

In the lobby, another attendee, in street clothes and pulling a red suitcase, approached Koss. He had a British accent and wore a pin that said “In Memoriam of Queen Elizabeth.”

“I’ve never been to Philadelphia before,” he said. “Have you ever gone suited outside?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Koss said.

The Dealer’s Den, where artists sold furry-themed patches, charms, prints, drawings, sparkly ears, and finger-free pawettes, was particularly popular. “All Tails $100,” one sign read. “Add Squeaker for $10.”

Sebastian “Punky” Hua, a 25-year-old Philly bartender, wandered the hall with her husband, wearing a T-shirt featuring Cinnamoroll, a blue-eyed puppy with long white ears by the creators of Hello Kitty.

The spirit of the convention is warm and generous, with many furries snapping pictures with strangers and offering each other earnest compliments. One attendee handed out tiny plastic “emotional support ducks.”

“Are you going to be here for the Night Market?” an attendee asked when they spotted Punky’s shirt. “I have a whole Cinnamoroll outfit: I have a Cinnamoroll harness and an underwear set and a fanny pack. If you see that, it is me. I love him so much.”

“I love him,” Hua agreed, handing the fellow fan a sticker from a stack she was carrying, a common form of community-making in the fandom. (The Cinnamoroll fan declined to give their name to The Inquirer, saying, “I am not real enough to do a formal interview.”)

Despite being a leader in the community, Drayne, the chair, got his fursuit only three months ago. People are welcome even without the full get-up, he said, though it helps to have a sketch of the character’s personality in mind. The furry fandom is decentralized and thrives on imagination; unlike at a Star Wars or Marvel convention, there’s no central creator to tell fans they’re doing it wrong.

“When you’re born, you don’t get to choose anything about yourself,” Drayne said, reflecting on furry fandom. “Furry is the ability to sit down and devise yourself.”