A catwalk model, circa 1947-1957.
Haute Couture, just like in any other other country in the world, did have a place in the USSR. However, it was a different, isolated, strange and suffering element, full of its own peculiarities and catfights. Two catwalk models, Leka Mironova and Tatiana Mikhalkova, reminiscent about their jobs at the only Fashion House back in the USSR. Those were the days, my friend..!
In the shop.
Leka Mironova
I became a model by pure chance. Once a friend took me along to a Fashion House on Kuznetsky Most in Moscow, where some guy approached me and offered me a job as a catwalk model. The guy turned out to be a young Slava Zaytsev (who was to become a huge Russian couturier, in due course). I accepted – I didn’t make it to university that year – and never regretted it.
The pay was about 76 roubles – hell, the cleaners were getting 60! The hours were regular, 9 till 6, five days a week. A photo shoot would bring you about 90 roubles, and if you wanted extra work, each new set of clothes to wear was priced at a rouble. We were allowed to earn extra cash at other Fashion Houses, but it was tough, as the hours were getting really long.
Tatiana Chapygina.
The rewards were more intrinsic, as you say – we, models, tried to think of ourselves as of the ultimate conveyors of physical beauty and style appreciation to the Soviet women. It was quite radical – the propaganda went that none of it was necessary for happiness or contentment. Our job, apart from being a “human hanger”, was to educate women on style, posture and poise.
Bringing the knowledge to people.
Not only the pay was minimal, we had to pay for everything ourselves – like, make up or perfumes. It was expensive and also almost impossible to buy. The lucky ones, who got sent overseas for fashion shows, had to bring it back for colleagues in bulk quantities.
High heeled shoes were a huge deficit. I remember, there were about ten pairs which belonged to the Fashion House, so sometimes we had to wear those. If they were a size or two smaller – tough luck!
Rumia (no last name) - one of the most beautiful women ever.
Another huge problem was the underwear. Oh boy, those Soviet panties –Yves Montand, who saw it once, was puzzled and then shocked. We were ordered to take it off and stay commando – which was unheard of, back in the 60s. I still laugh when I think of it.
The body standards for the models were state regulated, no less. There were three standard sizes (say, small, medium and large), and you had to fit in. However, the good thing was that modelling was, indeed, a job for life. If you get pregnant or put on a few sizes, you just start working for a different department, like mature clothing.
Russian Models in New York, 1959.
Tatiana Mikhalkova
It took me ages to adjust to modelling. First, back then clothes were far from plentiful: to wear one dress for a few days was normal. So when we had to change dresses during the catwalk shows, I just couldn’t get over the shock: it was unbelievable, having access to clothes, let alone pretty clothes!
Tatiana Mikhalkova (to the left), 1970s.
We would learn off each other how to do make up and hair – we were never provided with make up or hair artists, these jobs didn’t exist back then. We never had movement coaches, either – to walk on the catwalk is a skill, yet there is nobody to show you how to do it, how to create an image or how to deliver a message with your image.
Flaunting it!
The job itself was quite tedious – we had to walk really slowly in order to allow the groups of invited fashion designers (and students, and clothesmakers and so on) to draw sketches of our dresses so they could replicate it later.
Elena Metelkina
The police morale did exist back then, and it was after us, day and night. We were meant to be the face of the Russian women (especially when overseas), so they really watched us behave. Like, the curfew to be back to the hotel was 9pm, and it was strict. Even the job itself was called “clothes demonstrator”, no less, and what reputation it had! It was a serious effort to persuade my parents to allow me to do it – they thought it was really dodgy.
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