I have come across a very neat collection of the old Soviet fashion magazines from the forties, and I thought I’d share them with you. Very elegant, stylish images — and a little surprise from the insides of one of these magazines. Please read on.
Summer 1936
My iPad has really got me reading recently. On iBooks almost all of classic literature is free, so I am reading a book by Arthur Conan Doyle — The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Man with the Twisted Lip. There was a passage that struck me as remarkable (or, as Conan Doyle would put it, rather singular):
One night — it was in June 1889 — there came a ring to my bell. … We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. Our door flew open, and a lady, clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room.
The Soviet movie illustration of this book. 1979. Vasily Livanov as Sherlock Holmes and Vitaly Solomin as Dr Watson.
Really. In June 1881, just like that, Sherlock had linoleum, which was nothing extraordinary at the time — given he was presumed to somewhat struggle financially, and thus his need to share a flat. In the USSR — and this is the point I am making now — linoleum was one of the highest sought-after products until at least early 1980. I wouldn’t believe it myself, but I remember how excited my Mum was when in 199o we managed to “secure” some of this precious material to floor the kitchen in our apartment.
What was the price of those space exploration programmes if linoleum was a scarce commodity at least for a century after it became widespread in the rotten, capitalistic West? You feel my pain?
As previously stated by George Orwell, war is peace. So when Walter Ulbricht, the Leader of the German Socialist Unity Party, on June 15, 1961 said: “No one has the intention of building the wall!”, it took only about two months for the construction to begin. The rundown state of the Eastern part was forcing people to flee in the search of better lives in the West of Germany: in the first six months of the year 1961, about 150 000 people left their houses. However, more stayed — and so the Wall did not only separate the city — it cut families in halves.
On the morning of August 13, 1961 the Berlinians woke up to the first layer of bricks being erected.
All images are by Lisa Larsen, for LIFE magazine.
In 1956 an array of British designers were trying to expand their market share into the Soviet Union. So a fashion week of some sort took place — in Moscow, Gorky Park, twice daily the shows took place. What a huge success it was! Every day it was a full house, and the public were in love with the British models and the fashion. Jeans, for instance, were very trendy and could cost as much as a month’s salary — yet one still had to queue up to get a pair.
However, after so much ado, not a single British clothing company ever received any Soviet offers of cooperation. Sad, really — just like Christian Dior in Moscow, it could have been a beginning of a beautiful friendship.
You’re in the army now
The compulsory two years of military service was a rite of passage for every Soviet guy. When one turned eighteen — unless for sickness or injury — it was time to be called in for the military life — two years in the barracks. The guys usually bonded well and during their spare time created so called “Discharge Albums” — like scrapbooks, they were full of photos, songs lyrics, quick notes from the buddies etc.
The only person to escape the Iron Curtain by swimming.
By job he was an oceanographer, by heart he was a dreamer, by nationality he was a citizen of the planet Earth — in short, he was an extraordinary guy. Yet his personal file in the USSR was stamped as “not worthy of an exit visa” so he was not allowed to leave the country, even if it was for a holiday. So in December, 1974 he jumped a cruise boat “The Soviet Union” off the coast of the Philippines islands — and he swam to freedom.With no food or drink, no swimming equipment apart from flips and goggles, he swam to the shores about a hundred kilometers for three days — completely alone at sea.
Image courtesy of Léonard Gianadda, a Swiss photograher who visited Moscow in 1957.