Glamour Labor in the USSR

Abstract

Unlike contemporary fashion models who benefit from powerful tools of self-branding and self-promotion such as the Internet and social media, Soviet mannequins in the 1960s and 1970s operated within a centralized and strictly controlled system of fashion institutions. Nonetheless, their work required self-fashioning, and despite limited resources and a lack of guidance, they managed to cultivate their allure and project their images beyond the confines of the organizations they worked for. This article examines these often-neglected aspects of glamour labor by analyzing the account of the mannequin Valentina Chernova (Burlakova) through the concept of glamour proposed by the cultural historian Stephen Gundle. Chernova’s experiences at the Leningrad Dom Modelei challenge the popular stereotypes depicting fashion in the USSR as featureless and uniform, and reveal that Soviet mannequins were valued for their unique beauty, charisma, and creative input.

Keywords:

• fashion model, glamour labor, the Leningrad Dom Modelei, LDMO
• Soviet fashion

leningraders interested in fashion knew that on 21 Nevsky Prospect they could buy a ticket to the showroom of the Dom Modelei to learn about the fashions for the current season.¹ Established in 1936, the Leningrad Dom Modelei was a part of the Leningradodezhda (Leningrad clothes) trust.² Ten years later, the Leningrad Dom Modelei (after 1967—the Leningrad Dom Modelei Odezhdy, LDMO) continued its prewar mission as a separate organization.³ The main objectives included the development of all types of garments, propaganda of fashionable clothing, and methodological assistance to the sewing enterprises. In 1951, it relocated to the spacious building with three large arched windows on 21 Nevsky Prospect, known as Mertens Trading House, becoming the final residence of the fashion institution (Figure 1).⁴ By the 1960s and 1970s, LDMO organized shows to the public where mannequins of various ages and figures demonstrated elegant and superbly tailored ensembles on the runway, and an art director (iskusstvoved-metodist) provided commentary on the trendy silhouettes and cuts. These shows reflected the ideology of “fashion for the people” and followed the general government plan of promoting a high culture of dress among Soviet citizens: “We [a regional department of light industry] must dictate fashion to the population, we must educate and develop their taste.”⁵

Figure 1 Photographer Yuriy Belinskiy, designers of perspective group, 1977 (top left); photographer unknown, Valentina Chernova and Elena Fomchenko, 1973 (top right); photographer Boris Losin, LDMO showroom, 1965 (middle right); photographer unknown, LDMO on 21 Nevsky Prospect, beginning of the 1970s (middle left); photographer unknown, Chernova and other mannequins posing for Ogoniok magazine, 1967 (bottom left); photographer P. Fedotov, Chernova and Vera Yurasova, 1970 (bottom right). Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

The Dom Modelei is an integral part of Leningrad’s fashion history. Various projects, from academic articles to TV shows and social media forums, are devoted to this phenomenon. The richest is a resource group dedicated to LDMO on VKontakte, a Russian-based online social network, curated by the former mannequin Valentina Chernova (Burlakova).⁶ Chernova claims she organized the group so people would not forget but learn more about such an unusual organization. Participants of the community—some of them her old associates from the Dom Modelei—support her in this mission, as they are disappointed by the myths that are now being spread about mannequins.⁷ Just like in the West, fascination with models in Russia rarely goes beyond sensational stories told by the mass media. Whereas the official title of the profession was “mannequin” (manekenshchitsa—female; manekenshchik—male) following a French manner, by the mid-1970s, the job title was changed to “demonstrator of clothes” (demonstrator odezhdy). The popular press, talk shows, and documentaries dedicated to Soviet fashion primarily prey upon the most famous mannequins of the main Dom Modelei in Moscow (Obshchesoyuznyy Dom Modelei Odezhdy, ODMO [All-Union House of Prototypes]). Their private lives and hardships, rather than their work, are savored in detail. Chernova readily agreed to share her stories as a way to shift the focus of attention and fill the gaps in understanding Soviet models, or “demonstrators of clothes.”

This article explores mannequins’ labor and its exciting aspects at the Leningrad Dom Modelei, arguing that in the 1960s and 1970s mannequins engaged in glamorous activities which that profession granted. Despite the restrictions and lack of training, mannequins actively performed work on their appearance and personal connections, keeping up with trends to cultivate glamour for LDMO and to embody it themselves. This research concentrates on the creativity and agency of mannequins: the “active doing” and consensual participation in the processes of glamour production. The theoretical lens of “glamour labor”—managing one’s physique and character to appear attractive, cool, and relevant virtually and in person—helps to step away from the ideas of oppression and objectification commonly associated with the modeling profession and Soviet era.⁸ This article utilizes work done by fashion scholars Joanne Entwistle, Ashley Mears, Elizabeth Wissinger, and others, who refer to the concepts of aesthetic or glamour labor in their analysis of the contemporary Western modeling industry. Those concepts will be reconsidered through the lens of Soviet mannequins and the socialist settings of the 1960s and 1970s.

The understanding of glamour as a complex social phenomenon and “a structure of enticement” was borrowed from the works of cultural historian Stephen Gundle who defines glamour as an alluring image designed to draw the audience’s eye and to arouse wonder and envy.⁹ The subsequent three parts of this essay track the core paradoxical facets of glamour discerned by Gundle in the work of mannequins. These are “democratic elitism”: the illusion that anyone has an opportunity to be a star; “sleazy elegance”: female allure based on the tension between sophistication and sex appeal; and “accessible exclusivity”: the availability and appropriation of attributes and lifestyles of the elite.¹⁰ Fashion historian Elizabeth Wilson’s description of glamour as an “artfully concealed” complex set of actions and constant improvement towards what appears to be an almost unreachable perfection influenced the final section. This section focuses more on the creative, yet mostly disguised, labor of LDMO mannequins aimed at achieving an enticing image.¹¹

The labor of Soviet mannequins is a topic that has received insufficient attention. Within academic publications, Soviet mannequins are typically only briefly mentioned as minor components of a vast institutional system. Historian Larisa Zakharova highlights the uncertain status, bureaucratic equivocacy regarding the profession, and the absence of dedicated training institutions.¹² In their extensive work titled Fashion Meets Socialism, Jukka Gronow and Sergey Zhuravlev also mention the ambiguity of the occupation: hard work, low payment, and extra surveillance from authorities that accompanied a “certain degree of glamour” such as access to fame, international traveling, artistic circles, and fashionable clothing.¹³ Moscow mannequins from ODMO or GUM (Gosudarstvennyi Universalnyi Magazin [State Department Store]) are usually referenced as examples. Did Leningrad mannequins have access to these glamorous aspects like their Moscow colleagues? Was their job indeed considered glamorous?

This article primarily follows the story of one person and her career path. Valentina Chernova’s experience and perception of LDMO are by no means objective or representative of all Soviet mannequins. She was not a “celebrity” mannequin like Regina Zbarskaya or Galina Milovskaya, nor was she one of the “freelancers” barely engaged in the profession. Nevertheless, assertive comments from her former colleagues situate her as a spokesperson for LDMO mannequins. Chernova’s answers to the open-ended questionnaire about her work at the Dom Modelei, self-published memoir, images from her archive, materials from her online community, and other media featuring stories of LDMO mannequins were the primary sources for reference.¹⁴ The term “glamour” was not used in the USSR, but as this article reveals, the idea is recognizable in the accounts of Chernova.

Western concepts of fashion and glamour might appear contradictory in the Soviet context. Glamour—usually associated with capitalism, celebrity and consumer culture, wealth, luxury, indulgence, fantasy, sex appeal, and shallowness—is a rather controversial phenomenon for a socialist state committed to communism, rationalism, and scientific progress. The common Western idea of fashion in the USSR certainly does not allude to glamour. A humorous Wendy’s commercial from the 1980s, in which a Soviet fashion show is comically portrayed as a clumsy presentation of the same plain dress on the same stout woman three times, epitomizes this general notion.¹⁵ “Having no choice is no fun,” comments the narrator, hinting at the dangers of communism.

This caricature of Soviet fashion has some foundation. First, the revolutionary asceticism and constructivist ideas of anti-fashionable uniforms (prozodezhda) proved utopian, and therefore unattainable. Fashion—another bourgeois phenomenon inconvenient for the socialist state with a centrally planned economy—took a while to be ideologically accepted as a human aesthetic need in the USSR.¹⁶ Although the creative aspect of fashion quickly gained momentum, the technological and resource capacity of factories failed to reproduce sophisticated artistic prototypes on a mass scale to cater to the public and its increasingly diversifying taste. Second, for practical and ideological reasons, Soviet fashion changed at a slower pace and was more restrained. It aligned more with Western etiquette in terms of promoted values: functionality, harmony, neatness, propriety, and modesty as guiding principles.¹⁷ Third, party officials and ideologues were indeed engaged in the fashion process. Finally, fashion organizations in the USSR employed a wider range of mannequins, including heavier and older demonstrators of clothes, to represent different Soviet women.¹⁸

However, Soviet fashion was not as bleak and austere as illustrated in the humorous sketch. Glamour, like an added enhancing filter, was present in Soviet fashion from its institutionalization, as Elsa Schiaparelli observed in 1935 when she visited Moscow at the opening of the first Dom Modelei:

Electric mannequins under glass were turning slowly as they displayed rather bewildering clothes. Or at least these clothes bewildered me, for I was of the opinion that the clothes of working people should be simple and practical; but far from this, I witnessed an orgy of chiffon, pleats, and furbelows.¹⁹

This apparent ideological contradiction comes from a common misconception that glamour is aristocratic in essence and requires a strict hierarchy. However, glamour blossoms in a mobile society with a promise that anyone can become a better, more attractive, and successful version of themselves.²⁰

Despite the concept’s connection with the bourgeoisie, celebrities, and demi-monde, the post-revolutionary and rapidly urbanizing socialist state offered fertile grounds for glamour. Historian Natalia Lebina coined the term “Stalin’s glamour” to pinpoint this monumental and grand style in Soviet culture meant to reflect the triumphant spirit of the proletariat.²¹ Fashion scholar Djurdja Bartlett, author of FashionEast, argues that prominent workers (Stakhanovites, udarniki) replaced upper classes and socialites in the glamorous spotlight of publicity as examples of self-aggrandizement and meritocracy. The artistic designs showcased at the newly opened Dom Modelei were aimed to fashion this majestic image. She describes this widely promoted optimistic sense of magnificence and abundance in media as a mythical version of Stalinist society.²² Stalin’s glamour coincided with the Golden Age of Hollywood, but apart from boosting morale and providing a dream during hardships, it had an education component for the wider population not familiar with refinement in daily life. It illustrated values and cultural goals (kul’turnost’) for the New Soviet men and women to strive for.

The echoes of Stalin’s megalomania and traditional luxury partially lingered during the Khrushchev Thaw.²³ Cultural exchanges with the West and particularly France were integral to the USSR’s global opening, continually tempting Soviets with extravagant haute couture and posing a threat to the idea of social equality. The fact that only certain privileged categories of the population had access to designer clothes and lavish materials compromised the government’s attempt to create a form of socialism where the attributes of luxury could be introduced into mass consumption, therefore showcasing the achievements of the socialist camp.²⁴ Although ideologues still distinguished elegant and affordable socialist fashion from the vulgar petit bourgeois, they officially welcomed the new democratic and unpretentious Western trends of the 1960s.²⁵ With about a five-year delay (for example, mini-skirts became widely accepted only at the beginning of the 1970s), the character of glamour changed in the USSR: it became younger, down-to-earth, and more mobile. While for most Soviet people going to capitalist countries remained impossible, artistic and intellectual circles acquired rare access to foreign culture and mass media, captivating public interest with intriguing narratives.²⁶ The network of the Dom Modelei was one of the few cultural ambassadors to the exotic world of high fashion, glamour, and consumerism.

Democratic Elitism

Models, actresses, showgirls, and other women of glamour do not always originate from wealthy and respectable families. Humble or foreign backgrounds provide opportunities to embrace dream-evoking narratives, such as rising from poverty, mysterious origins, or turbulent life experience.²⁷ Chernova’s colleague, an ethnic Tatar, told everyone her mother was Italian to echo Sophia Loren. After a holiday in Hungary, she decided to portray her mother as a temperamental Magyar. The mother of another mannequin had hearing and speech impairments, but her daughter lied, saying that it was an Estonian accent.²⁸ Unlike her colleagues, Chernova did not add a pinch of exotica; she never hid her modest origins and in her memoir she candidly describes the tough circumstances of her youth and how they formed her fragile health, diffidence, and physical and emotional sensitivity which seemed incompatible with her future vocation.²⁹

Born in 1947, soon after World War II, her childhood held no promise of a glamorous future. Chernova and her hard-working mother lived poorly at the Soviet naval base Porkkala-Udd in Finland. The main entertainment for the servicemen was cinema and as a child Chernova was enchanted by the opulent “trophy” musicals, especially the parts with beautiful women in luxurious outfits. “Most likely, it was these films that formed my desire to see the beauty around me,” she reflects.³⁰ After the base was disbanded in 1956, the small family moved to Leningrad. They had nowhere to live, so Chernova’s mother found a job that provided a place at the dormitory. They shared a room with six other women.

To support her mother financially, Chernova left school after the ninth grade and began working as a hairdresser. After a year, she developed an allergy to the ingredients in perm solutions and hairspray (commonly prepared by diluting furniture varnish with cologne in those times), which forced her to quit her job at the salon. A family friend encouraged Chernova to consider becoming a mannequin at the Leningrad Dom Modelei.³¹ She had previously attended a fashion show at LDMO and was fascinated with the beautiful women working on the runway. Despite her aspirations for the stage and artistic expression and the strong encouragement of her family friend, Chernova saw herself as shy and ordinary: “Since childhood, I have only been expecting criticism and condemnation, everyone seemed beautiful to me except me.”³²

Wilson defines glamour as a “distancing device,” signaling that not everyone can be glamorous, but everyone can aspire to its elusive ideal.³³ Despite their often-humble backgrounds, glammed-up fashion models on the runway exude uniqueness, natural elegance, and chic, causing not only wonder but self-doubt in viewers. Fashion professionals painstakingly select and combine various media, including human bodies, to produce such a strong and nuanced glamorous impression on the spectators.³⁴

In the USSR, there were no specific beauty standards, modeling agencies, or schools. Mannequins were either “scouted” by chance on the street or through “open calls.” Each week, LDMO held a selection (otbor) for a mannequin position, announced through a small paper notice on the door. The manager (brigadir) of mannequins conducted the selection. Chernova was astonished by the number of women eager to work as mannequins. She humbly hid behind other candidates in full confidence she would go unnoticed and could soon go home. However, not only was she noticed, she was also quickly pulled out of the crowd and asked to take off her huge overcoat so the manager could measure her figure. Chernova recalls how the other women made bitter comments: “They were offended that they, so self-confident, whom their husbands and friends considered beauties, were not chosen as mannequins, but some skinny girl.”³⁵

Chernova was handed over to an art director, who suggested she change clothes. Observing herself in the mirror, she realized how unflattering her outfit was: “My dull boxy skirt made of thick bouclé fabric covered my knees, making me look bigger and ten years older. Clumsy winter boots, on the contrary, made my legs look as thin as matches.” However, trying on a designer red dress with golden buttons instantly transformed her: “I seemed to look taller, my hips became narrower, and a blush appeared in my face.” The art director then showed Chernova around the floors where the artists (khudozhnik-modelier) worked. Designers looked at her, took measurements, and smiled very kindly. To her, every person seemed beautiful and stylish: “There were no such people in my environment. I liked everything so much that I was terrified they would not like me, and I would not be accepted.”³⁶ The head of the fashion propaganda department assured Chernova that all the designers admired her, but it was impossible to hire a new mannequin at that time due to the lack of funding. Devastated, Chernova left convinced they had politely rejected her.

Surprisingly, the next day, Chernova was asked to fill in for a mannequin at the LDMO artistic council. Though her performance was successful, she heard about institutional budget limitations once again and went home with nothing. Eventually, on December 7, 1966, Chernova was hired by LDMO (Figure 2). Despite the meticulousness of the process, the choice of models and the hiring procedures often involved spontaneity and last-minute ad hoc decisions, contributing to the chaotic nature of the fashion industry and modeling profession.³⁷ This turmoil reflects the inherent characteristics of always elusive glamour: uncertainty, exclusivity, exoticism, and “Cinderella” fantasy.³⁸

Figure 2 Valentina Chernova’s employment-record book lists the dates of enrollment in LDMO’s propaganda department as a mannequin in 1966, promotions to upper categories of experience (razryad) within the year of 1967, change of the job title to “demonstrator of clothes” and salary increase to 90 rub in 1975, and voluntary dismissal in 1976. Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

Modeling was indeed a form of labor. The hours were irregular, with the working day typically starting at 8:30 am and ending at 5:30 pm. Fashion shows for the general audience were held twice a week, and mannequins involved in these sessions arrived at work later. Additionally, large fashion shows during the evenings and on weekends altered the usual working hours. For the women who worked as mannequins at LDMO for years, it was considered more of a lifestyle than merely a profession. Male mannequins, however, were not as busy. Many of them were not officially enrolled as LDMO staff. They usually studied or had “normal” work, and the demonstration of clothes for some of them was just an extra income.

Mannequins did not have a dedicated labor union; instead, they were grouped under the general workers’ union, considering their primarily physical work. Their salary was calculated according to the standard working grid. Though considered low, it was still in the average range.³⁹ Shoots for fashion magazines and TV programs were paid separately in addition to the salary. Some mannequins also worked part-time for fittings and clothes demonstrations at artistic councils of garment factories, such as the Tribuna underwear factory or the Dom Modelei of knitwear.⁴⁰ “Of course, not everyone was lucky to have additional income,” mentions Chernova, “but I do not remember anyone suffering from lack of money. We all went on vacations by the sea and found opportunities to dress well.”⁴¹

All LDMO mannequins shared the same official working conditions—an irregular schedule, the status of unqualified laborers, and a low income—yet enjoyed a pleasant and comfortable workspace. In the grand snow-white showroom adorned with crystal chandeliers and scarlet velvet chairs, they strutted down the runway and turned elegantly on the round podium at its end. Fitting rooms with mirrored walls were conveniently located on every floor. Mannequins attended fittings in uniform robes and low-heeled shoes that were no longer used for shows. They also had their own spacious and bright dressing room, where tables with mirrors lined the walls and divided the area into two parts. Each mannequin and the hairdresser had her designated place. Next to the mannequins’ room, their manager sat at a desk equipped with telephones, so designers and constructors could call her on the local phone to summon the mannequins they needed for fittings.⁴²

However, even though it was not explicitly emphasized among the workers, the job of some mannequins was considered more exciting than others, as the Dom Modelei designers were divided into two groups: an “industrial” group and a “perspective” group.⁴³ The industrial group produced sample garments in standard sizes (prorabotka), extremely simplified for mass production in factories. Industrial mannequins had no specific requirements for their appearance but needed to perfectly fit the standardized sizes. Industrial mannequins also demonstrated clothes at regular shows for a wide audience. The more desirable group to be associated with was from the experimental workshop—the perspective group of designers introducing new fashion trends (perspectivy)—a dream of every fashion student.⁴⁴ These designers developed highly artistic, couture-like collections for large shows and international exhibitions. Mannequins working with this group were taller, had more vibrant appearances, and interesting personalities. While they also participated in public sessions when perspective designs were included, their primary role was in large-scale and international shows.

Although anyone, regardless of their background, could try to become a mannequin, not everyone could succeed, especially in becoming a perspective one. Becoming a perspective demonstrator of clothes was not a matter of ambition or experience. Each mannequin was usually assigned to a specific group during the initial selection or probation based on their image and the ability to move.⁴⁵ By relating to more dramatic and exclusive fashions, mingling with celebrities, and of course, traveling abroad, the perspective group of designers and mannequins formed a sort of “elite” within the prestigious Soviet institution.

Sleazy Elegance

Today, the mysterious, inherent quality that models possess and cultivate is called “the look.” Sociologist and former model Ashley Mears explains it as an embodied tension between conforming to generic standards of perfection and demonstrating unique qualities. While the measurement categories are often straightforward, the unique combination of personal appearance, energy, and character—preferred by one client but not necessarily the other—is the trickiest aspect to comprehend. Even in our contemporary highly developed fashion industry, models and their managers continually maneuver through these “floating norms” and “ambiguous specificity,” balancing between standing out and fitting in by mere intuition.⁴⁶

During the Soviet era, candidates for mannequins had no guidance. The only information LDMO provided was the dress sizes they were looking for. To Chernova’s and the other candidates’ surprise, she was the only one selected from the crowd during that casting day. Despite her awkward outfit, the manager of mannequins instantly recognized the perfect combination of the normative physical requirements and distinctive “certain something” in Chernova. She looked younger than nineteen, was not very tall (169 cm) and had a girlish figure with a thin waist of 58 cm, being close to the Soviet size 44 (French size 38–40 at that time) and “youthful” age group (Figure 3). Chernova replaced a “teenage” mannequin who had quit and started working at shows organized for schoolers (Figure 4). Soon, other groups of designers, including the perspective group, demanded to work with her, admiring her “chameleon” nature. Soviet mannequins were meant to represent day-to-day reality on the runway, yet they also had charm and je ne sais quoi: “It seemed to me that people from another world worked in the Dom Modelei, whom you would not meet on the street… There was something in mannequins that neither my neighbors nor acquaintances had. And that ‘something’ made them irresistible.”⁴⁷

Figure 3 A standard size table was included in magazines of LDMO. Garment construction in the USSR depended on the age group, height, size (half of the chest measurement in cm), and fullness (the hip measurement in cm). Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

Figure 4 Photographers unknown, Valentina Chernova demonstrates youthful designs in magazines and on the runway, 1966–73. Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

Chernova only later observed the importance of individuality, and that LDMO preferred a more “European” type like Tamara Petrova and Gerard Vasilyev.⁴⁸ In comparison, ODMO had more mannequins of a stereotypical “Russian” appearance, such as Mila Romanovskaya or Lev Anisimov who presented ensembles with ethnic or historical motifs during regular shows abroad. Evgenia Hartleben-Kurakina, who worked at LDMO in the early 1960s as a “teenage” mannequin, also claims that women were chosen based on their unique character and expressive faces. She recalls how her tear-stained appearance due to failed exams attracted the attention of a youth clothing designer who stopped her on the street and offered her work at the Dom Modelei. Hartleben-Kurakina describes her role in LDMO as the image of a “sad teenager” à la Gavroche.⁴⁹

As Gundle notes, glamour is always in flux, short-lived, and illusory; it requires constant change and motion.⁵⁰ In the production of glamour, a model’s ability to move and carry themselves beautifully through space can outweigh their look.⁵¹ Chernova also emphasizes the importance of an elegant walk and gestures for a mannequin to get and stay in the profession. Women who outwardly met the requirements but could not move with effortless elegance on the runway were usually fired or kept in reserve. For her first day of work, Chernova’s more experienced colleague quickly ran with her along the catwalk and marked places where to make turns. That was the sum of her training. Chernova claims that walk, manners, correct posture, agile gait, mien, and composure during close attention cannot be taught but must come from within and look natural.⁵²

The mannequins’ job of “to-be-looked-at-ness,” their beauty, ambiguous status, and the lack of official regimentation in a bureaucratic state created space for controversy and speculation needed for mysterious allure.⁵³ Many mannequins at LDMO were married and had children; they never appeared on stage or in photographs in a provocative manner. Yet the mannequins’ beauty, validated by fashion professionals, media, and the gaze of viewers—especially the gaze of male viewers surrounding them with an erotic air—created whispers, rumors, and concerns among party functionaries.⁵⁴ Beauty, particularly female beauty, is the central feature of glamour that crosses all social barriers. According to Gundle, glamour was originally embodied by courtesans.⁵⁵ This intriguing mix of sophistication and vulgarity attached onto feminine physical beauty and followed dancers, actresses, and models in the twentieth century.

Chernova encountered this controversial aspect of the profession right from her first runway sessions. She describes how fashion shows held at schools delighted teenagers; they reacted to every appearance of a mannequin with wild, joyful cries.⁵⁶ Despite teachers’ harsh shushing, boys loudly discussed the appearance of women on stage and showered them with compliments. After each of these shows, mannequins were accompanied to the bus by a crowd of besotted young men. Seeing mannequin Nina Bolshakova holding her little daughter in her arms, they whistled in disappointment. These reactions, as described by Chernova, demonstrate that the pervasive perception of mannequins as visually available, mute “sex objects” was also present in the USSR.

Another incident illustrates the blend of fame, desirability, and smut that often surrounded the mannequin profession. During the intermission of a circus performance, a young woman suddenly sat down next to Chernova and her LDMO colleague, complimenting their appearance, and recommended they apply to the Dom Modelei.⁵⁷ She modestly added that she herself worked there as a mannequin and insinuated that the male director of LDMO was very “demanding.” At the same time, she meaningfully rolled her eyes, so they understood what “requirement” she was talking about. The real mannequins could barely contain their laughter, knowing well that the director of LDMO was a woman. When they asked the girl’s name, she proudly answered that her name was Valentina Burlakova. The real Valentina took out her pass to the Dom Modelei, advising the imposter to memorize the faces of mannequins next time before stealing their names. The institution received many confusing calls because random women pretended they worked there as mannequins. Men’s sexual interest, envy from other women, and indecent rumors might have been bothersome for mannequins, yet those are the crucial components of glamour’s seductive and unsettling effects.

Nevertheless, in Chernova’s experience, salacious fantasies regarding mannequins never went to extremes. Her colleagues also underscore their tendency to simply dismiss male attention.⁵⁸ “The interest of men was great, we just didn’t know how to handle it correctly at that time,” reflects LDMO mannequin Marina Avdeeva. Her co-worker Galina Bolshakova (Ezhova) adds, “Of course, they paid attention to us, but I tried not to notice it.” Even visiting informal parties, according to Chernova, was never about drawing men’s attention and provocative dressing for LDMO mannequins. “For some reason, today, it is common to say that we were despised and considered almost prostitutes,” she says. Encountering denigrating myths about Soviet mannequins, she tries to remember at least one instance of contempt or disrespect towards her because of the profession. “Of course, there were those who not only did not understand this profession, but fashion in general. But there was no direct assault or ridicule.”⁵⁹

The misunderstanding of the profession was largely bolstered by official propaganda aimed to curb fashion within the borders of rationality, elegance, and modesty. Excessive “bourgeois” or untidy hippy trends—symbolizing idleness and promiscuity—were a common subject in satirical magazines or the visual traits of negative characters portrayed in films. In popular Soviet comedies, like in The Girl Without an Address (1958) or The Diamond Arm (1968), scenes with mannequins were usually presented as farcical.⁶⁰ In the Queen of the Gas Station (1963), the dialogue between the characters Slavka and Lyudmila exemplifies this general perspective:

“Have you tried to get a job as a mannequin?”

“And what's wrong with that?”

“Nothing wrong. Walk on the stand, twist the figure. No responsibility! Spectacular!”⁶¹

Popular culture aimed to instill in the minds of common Soviet citizens the notion that excessive absorption into fashion and personal appearance were synonymous with frivolity, carelessness, and vanity. The seemingly simple and glamorous job of mannequins, predominantly occupied by young, beautiful women, was an easy target for such a condescending attitude. Ideology of seriousness and modesty demarcated the respectable from the non-respectable and placed mannequins right on the edge. Fashionable mannequins embodied glamour by striking viewers’ imagination with this tension, constant balancing, and bypassing the commonly accepted Soviet sense of moderation.

Accessible Exclusivity

Soviet mannequins gained access to publicity due to the nature of their job. Apart from the fittings, the main aspect of the mannequins’ job was being on view during the shows—made available to the general public in person, or via media outlets like television and print. During the 1960s and 1970s, the fashion propaganda department of LDMO received numerous orders for fashion shows.⁶² Shows in schools and vocational institutions were usually scheduled for fall, while festive shows during holidays were often held in the largest and most prestigious concert halls, theaters, and various palaces of culture.

LDMO’s comparatively minimalistic and functional runway sessions slowly began to turn into staged performances. In the early 1970s, theatrical fashion runways from Yugoslavia served as a source of inspiration for the LDMO collective.⁶³ Following their lead, stage director Andrei Sharonov created a set revolutionary for that time: live music by the popular rock band Argonauts accompanied the show, and its rhythms were switching as several mannequins came out on the podium at once and moved synchronously.⁶⁴ These additional dynamic sensorial effects further enhanced objects and people on the stage, elevating them from the mundane, and enchanting the viewers. Unlike the regular sessions, where each mannequin worked in her own individual manner, theatrical fashion shows required long rehearsals to achieve a seamless performance. Despite the additional effort, mannequins Marina Suzdalova (Smolina) and Galina Bolshakova—who did not get a chance to travel abroad during their years at the Dom Modelei—cherished theatrical shows as their brightest memories about LDMO.⁶⁵ “Tickets were all sold out, magazines in the lobby were in great demand. In one day, Andrei managed to make a show that was not designed for a stadium unforgettable,” writes Bolshakova about a trip with a theatrical runway program to Tomsk, USSR.⁶⁶

Unlike LDMO fashion shows, the opportunity to appear in its magazines was not exclusive to in-house mannequins. When LDMO first began to print photographs in their publications, garments were shot on the mannequins on whom they were fitted.⁶⁷ In the early 1970s, editors began inviting people from outside the institution because of the in-house mannequins’ busy schedules and reluctance to shoot despite the additional payment. Part of their reluctance might have been due to the low quality of prints. In some issues, mannequins were hard to recognize; faces looked blurry, and a retoucher often crudely traced clothing silhouettes or added thick eyelashes or hair curls, outlined lips, or removed mustaches on men. Photographers also varied in skills. Chernova bewilderingly claims that “Some of them, it seemed, did not even try to present the mannequins beautifully, but instead chose the worst shots for printing.”⁶⁸ An alluring image is crucial in mass media; it provides “opportunities for staging, representing, and inventing people, events, and commodities.”⁶⁹ Today, top modeling agencies carefully manage their models’ image by selecting job offers and rejecting unprofessional teams, inappropriate concepts, and unflattering shots. While mannequins of LDMO did not prioritize photographs and covers, since they did not use portfolios, they certainly recognized poorly executed ones and sensed the need to curate and protect their attractive image.

Nevertheless, there were professional photographers with whom it was exciting to work. In the spring of 1967, a photographer chose Chernova for a Hungarian magazine cover photoshoot. He quickly took a few shots of her standing near helium balloons that were sold in front of LDMO. Chernova did not think she would ever see this magazine issue, but a relative served in Hungary and noticed her portrait covering all the newsstands in Budapest (Figure 5). The most memorable photoshoot for Chernova, however, was with the “celebrity” photographer Valeriy Plotnikov. Poses in fashion editorials were strictly supervised and everything was supposed to be “Soviet”: dignified, reserved, and modest. Yet, Plotnikov photographed Chernova in her natural “disassembled” state while she was smoking during a break, and she still treasures this informal photograph (Figure 6). “Plotnikov’s photographs were stylish and very different from the usual pictures in fashion magazines. This is probably why his photos appeared more often in foreign magazines than ours,” writes Chernova.⁷⁰

Figure 5 Photographers unknown, Valentina Chernova’s fashion covers, including the memorable issue of the Hungarian magazine (bottom left), 1967–76. Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

Figure 6 Photographer Valeriy Plotnikov, Valentina Chernova with her colleagues and friends Galina Bolshakova and Marina Suzdalova, 1972. Valentina used her favorite photograph for the cover of her memoir. Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

Mannequins were not credited in print, but their names were often announced during runway shows, on television, and circulated through word of mouth. Crowds of different ages came to see the shows, and many visitors had their favorite mannequins. Senior and stout demonstrators of clothes, like Tamara Vasilievna Kulmanova, whom Chernova describes as a big-eyed beauty with a royal posture, enjoyed special admiration.⁷¹ In 1966, there were no more than twenty mannequins at LDMO: eight people from the perspective group, and the rest from the industrial one. Thus, mannequins were known even without their names in print.

In addition to Leningrad, perspective mannequins could be spotted at live shows in various cities and towns, special events, on television, in magazines, and on the streets. Apart from domestic roadshows, work at LDMO led to precious opportunities for traveling abroad, though registration for international shows required dealing with strict rules and the authorities. Party committees and KGB officials selected members for traveling delegations based not only on matters of security but also on moral judgments of character; the point of traveling was to exemplify Soviet values, not to indulge in capitalist temptations.⁷² Initially, Chernova missed the chance to travel to Canada due to failing the requirements of completing one year of work and visiting a socialist state before visiting a capitalist one. Yet in 1969, she finally went to East Germany after rigorous interviews, concealing her childhood in Finland and a lost connection with her father.⁷³ “Glamorous people are not rooted but rather are constantly on the move,” argues Gundle. Motion, travel, and exotic imagery fuel glamour by playing on people’s longings for dreams and escape.⁷⁴ Like other glamorous people, mannequins of the Dom Modelei traveled, catching public attention with a sense of novelty and distance.

The conditions in which Soviet mannequins traveled were far from glamorous owing to meager budgets, stringent regulations, and busy schedules. For instance, in Leipzig, East Germany, instead of hotel accommodation, mannequins were assigned to stay in pairs with “trusted” families, and the German couple with whom Chernova and Tamara Petrova stayed did not let them use hot water.⁷⁵ In Brno, Czechoslovakia, mannequins had to hide from their party organizer (partorg) whenever they went to a restaurant or engaged in conversations with foreigners, as such behavior was forbidden.⁷⁶ Sneaking to the hotel bar, Chernova and Petrova were captivated by the stories of relaxed and carefree Polish mannequins and their glamorous lifestyle. They, dressed in Paris fashions and lavishly spending money on drinks, talked about frequent work in France and taxi rides to Austria in their free time.⁷⁷

However, when the LDMO team returned to the USSR, they exuded a similar allure, since despite the restrictions imposed during their work trips, the mere act of traveling abroad and access to foreign goods added to the prestige of their profession. The treasured foreign journeys were an ultimate luxury even for the elite and a pipedream for most Soviet citizens.⁷⁸ “In the 1960s, when the standard of living was still comparatively low, and the Soviet Union was closed off from the West by the Iron Curtain, creative life was in full swing on 21 Nevsky Prospect,” Chernova recalls. “For a random person, the Dom Modelei gave the impression of a separate state.”⁷⁹

Through their involvement in the Dom Modelei, mannequins also gained access to high culture. Leningrad provided the alluring backdrop of glamorous metropolitan life. Chernova and Hartleben-Kurakina claim mannequins were a part of the artistic elite of the city.⁸⁰ Connections formed organically during work trips, television programs, backstage at grand festive concerts, and banquets following the shows. Mannequins were welcomed to receptions at consulates and all sorts of meetings. In their book Dovlatov’s Leningrad, historians Lev and Sofia Lurie describe how the Soviet writer Valery Popov organized a banquet at Grand Hotel Europe to celebrate the publication of his new novel. He invited mannequins from LDMO, and this sparked a buzz in Leningrad’s artistic circle.⁸¹

Chernova’s memoir consists mainly of stories about remarkable and talented people she met due to her job: designers, artists, actors, musicians, writers, dancers, sportsmen, journalists, and her fellow mannequins. Mannequins themselves were often engaged in creative professions beyond demonstrating clothes. Alexander Vlasov, a “teenager” mannequin, worked a side job at LDMO to afford expensive professional costumes before he became a medal-winning pair skater.⁸² Gerard Vasilyev, one the USSR’s most renowned male mannequins, was a student of the Leningrad State Conservatory who later became an honored operetta soloist. Another “teenager” mannequin, Nina Bolshakova, was a mime actress mostly recognized for her role in Amphibian Man (1961). Old and stout mannequin Evgeniya Konstantinovna Kovrova knew French and sang in the choir of the Mariinsky theater before joining LDMO.⁸³ Chernova, fascinated with cinema, got small parts in An Old, Old Tale (1968) and Farewell to White Nights (1969), and later in other films like Lost Among the Living (1981). The directors’ assistants knew they could cast extras with “camera experience” at LDMO.⁸⁴

Unlike contemporary fashion models, who operate within a highly decentralized and mobile industry, Soviet mannequins predominantly remained committed to a single organization for years, even decades. According to Chernova, mannequins of LDMO spent a lot of time together apart from work, forming a tight inner circle and a close-knit comradery.⁸⁵ Older and younger peers went out on the town, celebrated holidays, or just hung out at someone’s home getting to know each other’s family and friends. Chernova was also close with the perspective designers. Even after she quit, her former LDMO colleagues continued to call and meet with her. In addition to the friendships that blossomed from professional socializing and the companionship of fellow mannequins, Chernova’s memoir reveals that she received attention from numerous talented suitors. It was due to her LDMO circle that she met her first husband, musician Mikhail Chernov. LDMO mannequin and tailor Pavel Androsov later became Chernova’s second husband.⁸⁶

Access to quality goods and high fashion was another glamorous privilege the Dom Modelei granted its workers. In glamour, people and goods are intertwined.⁸⁷ Models are associated with fashion and glamour primarily through the sophisticated and rare garments they demonstrate on the runway. LDMO mannequins managed to extend their images as fashion icons beyond the podium. Lev Lurie recalls,

Incredible beauties served as mannequins here. When the ladies who worked in the Dom Modelei came outside at six in the evening on Nevsky, it was a show for the insiders: so many stylish women in one place could not be seen anywhere else in Leningrad.⁸⁸

Chernova confirms: “We dressed the best in Leningrad, and this is not an exaggeration.”⁸⁹ Although at first, she did not even have proper underwear for work—she came to fittings in mended stockings, her only old pink satin bra, a shabby garter belt with stretched elastic bands, and white silk shorts she used to wear to the ballet studio at school age—step by step, Chernova upgraded her humble wardrobe. It was impossible to find small panties and bras in stores, but perspective mannequins could buy nice lingerie, as well as other fine apparel and cosmetics, either abroad or from black marketeers (fartsovka), with whom they were on good terms. The most exclusive opportunity available for mannequins was picking slightly worn designer prototypes right from the warehouse that stored all those one-of-a-kind samples and then officially paying for their reserved items at the Moskovsky department store, where LDMO had a small section.⁹⁰

Though mannequins were not the first in line (party officials and performers got the first pick), they were notified about these “sample sales.” Former LDMO mannequin Tatyana Sanaeva shared in an interview that she managed to buy several designer pieces such as an extravagant purple coat with a large jabot collar and figured inserts of black astrakhan fur.⁹¹ “Each mannequin tried to be special, and we tried to dress stylishly. We did some things with our own hands and bought [designer] models, when possible,” writes Bolshakova.⁹² Mannequins could also negotiate custom orders with the designers and tailors of LDMO.⁹³ Designers from the perspective group always assisted Chernova with the fit, and the tailors charged the usual price for their work, which was no more than that of an atelier.

Describing the Soviet consumer culture during the Brezhnev era (1964–82), historian Natalya Chernyshova emphasizes how gaining connections to access shortage and foreign goods was usually a greater difficulty rather than financial inability. At this “mature” stage of Soviet consumer mentality, rare items conveyed a status message rather than economic value.⁹⁴ The same was true for non-material things, like trips abroad and exclusive entertainment, mostly available to the political, labor, and cultural elite. Public attention, international traveling, high fashion, artistic circles, and private events were a part of the mannequins’ work and lifestyle, and it surrounded their images and profession with glamour and prestige.

Laborious Effortlessness

The word “glamour” originates from Scottish roots, connoting magic, enchantment, and deception.⁹⁵ Its first literary usage described a magical power capable of making ordinary people and places seem like magnificent versions of themselves.⁹⁶ That was the impression Chernova formed when she first viewed the runway show at the Dom Modelei, and it grew stronger when she observed its refined environment during the casting: the magnificent building, its elegant interiors, impeccably dressed professionals with polite manners, and, of course, the first designer dress she tried on. Soon Chernova became a part of this “glamour-spell” production.

Every Friday, the artists of the perspective group had a “creative day.”⁹⁷ Visiting museums and exhibitions, they sought inspiration and fresh ideas. Perspective mannequins had more free time on these days. They went up to the LDMO library and leafed through the pages of Western fashion magazines, looking at the glossy, vividly colored photographs of the world’s fashion icons. It was not only a pleasant pastime; designers demanded careful work on their fashionable image. “Fashion changed and the style of a woman, including hair and makeup, had to follow it,” explains Chernova of their task.⁹⁸

The Dom Modelei had a hairdresser on staff who had the most basic skills. She usually assisted senior mannequins with their simple, classic haircuts and helped everyone with the curlers. Younger mannequins did their hair themselves. Chernova’s previous experience as a hairdresser proved useful, as colleagues often asked her for haircuts. She did get in trouble once when one of the designers did not like the style she created for their new “teenager” mannequin, but the situation was saved by a chignon. In 1969, hairpieces came into fashion, which helped mannequins to easily change their “looks” between daytime and evening ensembles during shows. Chernova constantly experimented with fashionable haircuts, and nobody objected to her own style choices.⁹⁹

Mannequins completed their fashionable image with makeup. “I am, by nature, pale and ‘transparent,’ but with cosmetics, you can transform me into anything,” describes Chernova (Figure 7). When she began working at LDMO, she had only a small box of cheap face powder and a simple black pencil: “Nobody taught us how to do makeup. We did not know about makeup artists. There was not even a word for this back then.”¹⁰⁰ While their techniques were mainly influenced by Twiggy, lacking any other distinct role models, the mannequins themselves were trendsetters. When designers from other cities asked Leningrad mannequins to present their ensembles, mannequins from smaller towns gathered to watch LDMO teams on the runway, often repeating their gaits, turns, and gestures.¹⁰¹ By upholding fashionable appearances, LDMO mannequins supported the collective image of “Leningrad style” and its esteemed reputation.

Figure 7 Photographers unknown, portraits of Valentina Chernova featuring her makeup and hairstyling skills, 1966–76. Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

Glamour labor is a perpetual improvement towards a seemingly distant, almost unreachable perfection.¹⁰² Chernova’s experience demonstrates the lack of directions and formal training for mannequins, even within the official governmental institution dedicated to matters of sophistication and taste. It made the mannequin profession highly intuitive and creative, requiring self-teaching, experimenting, and reliance on personal preferences. “Before the Dom Modelei, I didn’t even shave my armpits,” explains Chernova, “and none of the ordinary people did. But I was attentive and immediately saw that all the other mannequins were shaved. And then I bought a razor.”¹⁰³ Though vague norms of beauty existed, Soviet society at large was not fixated on specific standards to aspire to, even during the active propaganda for a novii byt (new everyday life) in the 1920s and 1930s.¹⁰⁴

Subsequently, ideologues continued the Bolsheviks’ mass campaign for exemplary health, agility, hygiene, and naturalness, criticizing women’s attempts to imitate glamorous film actresses through heavy makeup and elaborate hairstyles. Even the pervasiveness of Western innovations and artificial enhancement trends in the 1960s could not completely overthrow the hegemonic discourse on purity and modesty of a woman’s natural and individual beauty.¹⁰⁵ Furthermore, the developing cosmetics and skin care industry in the USSR was simple, eliminating the pressure for a flawless appearance. Like most people, mannequins had various concerns regarding their body, yet problems such as pimples, scars, or skin irritations were not subject to serious scrutiny or open criticism in the workplace.¹⁰⁶ Some mannequins sought aestheticians for facials or manicures and pedicures, but they all did their beauty maintenance mostly by themselves to save time and money.¹⁰⁷

The only attempt to assist mannequins with their physical discipline was at the beginning of the 1970s, when LDMO invited a stage movement instructor from the Institute of Theater, Music, and Cinematography to teach fitness exercises. Mannequins found the workouts useful but extremely inconvenient as the fittings already left them exhausted. Moreover, there were no showers at LDMO to freshen up after class and thus none of the mannequins supported her shape with regular exercise or sports. Chernova only recalls Kovrova who consistently practiced yoga, even during trips.¹⁰⁸ For the rest of the mannequins, physically demanding work and lack of time for proper meals helped to maintain their shape and tone. As far as Chernova remembers, even the largest mannequin had smooth skin, free of cellulite.¹⁰⁹

Glamour’s aura of effortlessness conceals long hours of preparations, strained and hungry bodies, and even suffering.¹¹⁰ Mannequins’ irregular and unpredictable work schedules made their daily routines challenging.¹¹¹ One day they might sit idle for hours, and on another, they could be busy every minute. This inconsistency affected their lunch breaks, and at times, it was impossible to eat at all during the working day. Instead of following a diet, mannequins tried to eat whenever there was a chance. They either brought sandwiches from home or rushed to the Minutka café, located opposite the Dom Modelei, for coffee and pies with broth. At first, Chernova struggled to adjust to the chaotic regime and used to faint during fittings that lasted hours.¹¹²

In addition to the physical demands, modeling also exerts emotional pressure. A polished glamorous image is a result of meticulous grooming, bodily and emotional control, and even character development. Chernova emphasizes how her sensitive and insecure character was not ready for this amount of attention. She grew up in strenuous conditions, suffered from insomnia, and was bullied for her thinness. “An anxious girl constantly critical of her appearance unexpectedly becomes a role model,” she reflects.¹¹³

The work also required a certain degree of improvisation and acting skills. One time, for example, Chernova had to step in for a male mannequin who did not show up for the artistic council. She wiped off her lipstick, tousled her bangs, put on men’s shoes, and began striding onto the runway. At another artistic council, she had to substitute for a mature mannequin who fell ill that day. Although Chernova’s girly appearance did not match the grown-up, elegant image, she tried to embrace this classy, chic style, and everything went well.¹¹⁴ During another runway, Petrova was flaunting a white sports suit with red embroidery, when her foot slipped off the podium at a sharp turn. “Catching her balance, she leaned forward and dramatically rested her hand on her knee. Standing almost in a split, the mannequin smiled, and it never occurred to anyone that she was not demonstrating the possibilities of the elastic fabric of the trousers but had simply fallen off the podium.”¹¹⁵

As regular institutional workers, most of the mannequins became a part of the whole creative team and artistic process. When perspective outerwear designer Nina Davydenko sewed for Chernova a sheepskin skirt with a short jacket in Russian folk style to present at the Leipzig exhibition, she proposed to accessorize the look with felted boots (valenki) and with a colorful woolen scarf tied around her head. The look made such an impression on the audience—who found the image of the village girl, twirling merrily around the catwalk, stomping her boots, and playing with the scarf so memorable—that Chernova was named the best mannequin of the Leipzig autumn exhibition in 1969.¹¹⁶

Despite the success, the LDMO director did not welcome creative initiative. For her, it was crucial that fashion shows would run according to the usual standard. “Tatiana Nikolaevna was a typical nomenklatura (loyal member of a communist party holding key administrative position): what the party ordered was obligatory to be carried out.”¹¹⁷ Dreading potential scandals, particularly the possibility of a mannequin staying abroad, the director watched the young women like a warden during the trips.

Coming to the fashion sessions at LDMO, people saw smiling and fashionable demonstrators of clothes soaring down the runway. Hours of exhausting fittings, empty stomachs, lack of sleep, hair and makeup preparations, hurried changes of clothes, and scolding from superiors were left backstage. Another mundane burden was concealed from viewers’ minds: like all the city intelligentsia (workers of research institutes and cultural enterprises), mannequins were supposed to participate in a national food program by going to a vegetable storage facility for a day (Figure 8). As the program progressed, people were sent to a collective farm (kolkhoz) for an entire month. “We were harvesting turnips for livestock, it’s hard to pull them out of the ground …and we slept in the haylofts,” writes Avdeeva.¹¹⁸ When her turn came to go, Chernova, worried about her weak health and outraged by the injustice, wrote a letter of resignation. Later, she deeply regretted that she acted on emotions: “Of course, I should have gone to the collective farm and continued to work in the Dom Modelei.”¹¹⁹ “Potato trips” were a common duty for Soviet citizens. They certainly were not part of a nonchalantly glamorous lifestyle and contributed to mannequins’ unpredictable schedules, discomfort, and overexertion.

Figure 8 Photographers unknown, Valentina Chernova with her fellow mannequins and other colleagues from LDMO at the vegetable base, 1970s. Courtesy of Valentina Chernova.

The episodes of fashion mannequins sorting out rotten vegetables at the kolkhoz or being interrogated by the KGB could easily make another Wendy’s anti-communist commercial. Even contemporary Russian journalists prefer to focus on scandalous facts about “poor and abused” women exposing the “ugly truth” behind the glamorous facade of their profession. Chernova does not share this sentiment and avoids speaking about it on TV: “We were not poor or abused. For some reason, everyone likes to compare our life back then with today’s reality. What for? We were happy in those conditions. We lived like everyone else, in many ways better than others.”¹²⁰ Although she had sad and unpleasant episodes, they never overshadowed the thrill and excitement of her profession and the lifestyle it granted.

Conclusion

Gundle suggests seeing glamour in terms of beauty, stylishness, celebrity, and sex appeal.¹²¹ In the context of the Soviet Union—where mainstream outlets were shielded from Western celebrity and sex cultures—mannequins like Chernova and her colleagues did not even know the term “glamour” until the 1990s.¹²² Nevertheless, their anecdotal evidence confirms that despite the sober approach to fashion in the USSR, the LDMO mannequins of the 1960s and 1970s were also associated with a certain degree of glamour due to international traveling, access to high fashion, polished images, media presence, public admiration, and even fame. Mannequins had no wealth, but they had social and cultural capital that added to their allure.

Chernova’s experiences at the Leningrad Dom Modelei align with Gronow and Zhuravlev’s conclusion: “the numerous Soviet fashion professionals had a lot of autonomy. They were eager and willing to exercise their own judgment in matters of taste and to set the agenda of beauty and style for Soviet citizens.”¹²³ Mannequins of LDMO were not just docile bodies demonstrating clothes. Based on their appearances, they were assigned roles akin to theatrical characters (amplua), which they needed to cultivate and adjust to current fashion trends through makeup, hairstyles, mien, and walk. The Leningrad Dom Modelei mannequins were fashion laborers, taking part in creating those specific glamorous ideals fashion institutions presented to the Soviet people and projected abroad.

Acknowledgments

I thank Valentina Chernova, my respondent, and Dr. Ingrid Mida, former Editor-in-Chief of DRESS, without whose endless patience and support this research would not have happened. I am further grateful to Dr. Einav Rabinovitch-Fox, Acting Principal Editor of DRESS, and my reviewers for their helpful directions in shaping the article.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Alina Osokina

Alina Osokina (Specialist in Sociology, Saint Petersburg State University; MA Fashion and Textile Studies, FIT) is a New York-based independent researcher and part-time fashion model. Her academic interest is currently focused on Russian and Soviet dress history.

Notes

1 Leningrad was a name for the city of Saint Petersburg from 1924 until 1991. The “Dom Modelei” is also translated in various texts as “Fashion House” or “House of Models.” The terminology of this article is based on the vocabulary used by Djurdja Bartlett in her book FashionEast: The Spectre That Haunted Socialism (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2010). The term “mannequin” follows the Soviet title of the profession—manekenschitsa. In Soviet fashion, the word “model” usually signified a garment prototype rather than a person demonstrating clothes.

2 S. M. Vankovich and O. E. Denisova, “The First Experience of Creating a Soviet Modeling Organization in Leningrad (1930s–1940s),” Vestnik SPBGUTD 1, no. 2 (2021): 3.

3 Department of Light and Local Industry of the Leningrad GK VKGP(b). “Spravka otdela legkoy i mestnoy promyshlennosti GK VKP(b) A. A. Kuznetsovu ob organizatsii Doma modeley v Leningrade. 18 Avgusta 1945 g.” [Reference from the Department of Light and Local Industry GK VKGP(b) to A. A. Kuznetsov about the organization of the Leningrad Dom Modelei. August 18, 1945], Russian Historical Society, <http://docs.historyrussia.org/ru/nodes/194752

4 Vankovich and Denisova, “The First Experience of Creating a Soviet Modeling,” 9.

5 Words of Pimenov A.T., the Deputy Head of the Department of Light Industry during one of the meetings in 1949 (Leningrad Regional Department of Light Industry, Prikazy Leningradskogo oblastnogo upravleniya legkoy promyshlennosti [Orders of the Leningrad Regional Department of Light Industry], Central State Archive of St. Petersburg, Fund 9610-1, 1949, 14.

6 Valentina is registered on the VK under the name Greta Gustavson and curates the online community “Leningradskiy Dom Modeley Odezhdy. Nevskiy 21” [The Leningrad House of Prototypes. Nevsky 21].

7 Valentina Chernova, message to author on vk.com, July 14, 2022.

8 Elizabeth Wissinger, This Year’s Model: Fashion Media and the Making of Glamour (New York: New York University Press, 2015), 3.

9 Stephen Gundle and Clino T. Castelli, The Glamour System (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006), 16; Stephen Gundle, Glamour: A History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 5.

10 Gundle, Glamour, 12.

11 Elizabeth Wilson, “A Note on Glamour,” Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body & Culture 11, no. 1 (2007): 100.

12 Larisa Zakharova, “Defilirovat' po-sovetski” [Défilé in the Soviet Way], Teoriya mody: Odezhda. Telo. Kul'tura no. 2 (2006/2007): 62–63.

13 Jukka Gronow and Sergey Zhuravlev, Fashion Meets Socialism: Fashion Industry in the Soviet Union After the Second World War (Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society / SKS, 2015), 29–30.

14 The questionnaire was messaged via vk.com on July 17, 2022; the answers were received on September 12, 2022.

15 “Wendy’s: Soviet Fashion Show,” written by Cliff Freeman and Joe Sedelmaier, directed by Joe Sedelmaier, 1985, 1 minute.

16 Gronow and Zhuravlev, Fashion Meets Socialism, 21.

17 Gronow and Zhuravlev, Fashion Meets Socialism, 231.

18 Gronow and Zhuravlev, Fashion Meets Socialism, 30.

19 Elsa Schiaparelli, Shocking Life: The Autobiography of Elsa Schiaparelli, new ed. (London: V&A Publishing, 2018), 91.

20 Gundle, Glamour, 7.

21 Natalia Lebina, Muzhchina i zhenshchina: telo, moda, kul'tura. SSSR—ottepel [Man and Woman: Body, Fashion, Culture. USSR—Thaw] (Moscow: Novoye literaturnoye obozreniye, 2014), 28.

22 Bartlett, FashionEast, 68, 77.

23 Bartlett, FashionEast, 98.

24 Larissa Zakharova, “Dior in Moscow: A Taste for Luxury in Soviet Fashion under Khrushchev,” in Pleasures in Socialism: Leisure and Luxury in the Eastern Bloc, ed. Susan Reid and David Crowley (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University, 2010), 104.

25 Gronow and Zhuravlev, Fashion Meets Socialism, 238.

26 Eleonory Gilburd, To See Paris and Die: The Soviet Lives of Western Culture (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 2018), 14, 273.

27 Gundle, Glamour, 11–12.

28 Tina Greta Gustavson, Ya podumamayu ob etom zavtra: zapiski byvshey manekenshchitsy [I Will Think About It Tomorrow: Notes of a Former Mannequin] (self-published, 2020), 337.

29 Valentina Chernova, message to author on vk.com, July 22, 2023.

30 Valentina Chernova, written interview with author, September 12, 2022

31 Chernova, written interview with author.

32 Valentina Chernova, message to author on vk.com, January 25, 2022.

33 Wilson, “A Note on Glamour,” 100.

34 Astrid Huopalainen, “Manipulating Surface and Producing ‘Effortless’ Elegance—Analysing the Social Organization of Glamour,” Culture and Organization 25, no. 5 (2019): 341.

35 Chernova, written interview with author.

36 Chernova, written interview with author.

37 Huopalainen, “Manipulating Surface,” 342.

38 Joanne Entwistle and Elizabeth Wissinger (eds.), Fashioning Models: Image, Text and Industry (London & New York: Berg, 2012), 2.

39 Entwistle and Wissinger, Fashioning Models, 2.

40 Tribuna, founded in Leningrad in 1933, specialized in the design and production of underwear and corset products. Designers of the Leningrad Dom Modelei of knitwear (Leningradskiy Dom modeley trikotazhnykh izdeliy, LDMTI) developed models of clothes from knitted fabrics for mass production and experimented with new technologies.

41 Chernova, written interview with author.

42 Chernova, written interview with author.

43 Chernova, written interview with author.

44 Sofia Azarhi, Modnyye lyudi: K istorii khudozhestvennykh zhestov nashego vremeni [Fashionable People: Towards the History of Artistic Gestures of Our Time] (St. Petersburg: Ivan Limbach Publishing House, 2012), 17.

45 Chernova, written interview with author.

46 Ashley Mears, Pricing Beauty: The Making of a Fashion Model (University of California Press, 2011), 119.

47 Chernova, written interview with author.

48 Chernova, message to author on vk.com, April 14, 2023.

49 Bukvoed, “Evgenia Hartleben-Kurakina. Bukvoed. December 4, 2108,” December 5, 2018, YouTube video, 1:04:28, <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eM-h3CLPbPc>.

50 Gundle, Glamour, 11.

51 Huopalainen, “Manipulating Surface,” 341.

52 Chernova, written interview with author.

53 The concept of “to-be-looked-at-ness” was introduced by Laura Mulvey to analyze the objectifying portrayal of women in classic film within a psychoanalytic framework in “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” Screen 16, no. 3 (Autumn 1975): 6–18.

54 Lebina, Muzhchina i zhenshchina, 126–27.

55 Gundle, Glamour, 11.

56 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 193.

57 Chernova, written interview with author.

58 Marina Avdeeva, Galina Bolshakova, and Marina Suzdalova, written interviews with author, October 12, 2022.

59 Chernova, message to author on vk.com, January 24, 2023.

60 Tatyana Dashkova, “Nesluzhebnaya pokhodka: defile v sovetskikh fil'makh ottepeli i zastoya” [Nonwork Gait: The Catwalk in Soviet Films of the Thaw and the Era of Stagnation], Teoriya mody: Odezhda. Telo. Kul'tura, no. 46 (2017/18): 264.

61 Koroleva benzokolonki [Queen of the Gas Station], directed by Olexiy Myshurin and Nikolai Litus (Dovzhenko Film Studios, 1963), 00:11:23.

62 Chernova, written interview with author.

63 Chernova, written interview with author.

64 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 300.

65 Suzdalova and Bolshakova, written interviews with author.

66 Galina Bolshakova, September 11, 2023, comment on Valentina Chernova, “In memory of Andrei Sharonov,” Leningrad Dom Modelei Odezhdy. Nevsky 21, September 10, 2023, <https://vk.com/wall-187909891_1308>.

67 Chernova, written interview with author.

68 Chernova, written interview with author.

69 Gundle, Glamour, 12–13.

70 Chernova, written interview with author.

71 Chernova, written interview with author.

72 Gilburd, To See Paris and Die, 274.

73 Gilburd, To See Paris and Die, 274.

74 Gundle, Glamour, 13–14.

75 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 194.

76 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 322.

77 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 315.

78 Gilburd, To See Paris and Die, 276.

79 Chernova, written interview with author.

80 Chernova, written interview with author. Bukvoed, “Evgenia Hartleben-Kurakina.”

81 Lev and Sofia Lurie, Leningrad Dovlatova: Istoricheskiy putevoditel', 2nd ed. (Saint Petersburg: BHV Peterburg, 2017), 76.

82 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 286.

83 Chernova, written interview with author.

84 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 196.

85 Chernova, written interview with author.

86 Chernova and Androsov moved to Sweden after the dissolution of the Soviet Union and continued working in fashion.

87 Huopalainen, “Manipulating Surface,” 348.

88 Lurie, Leningrad Dovlatova, 76.

89 Chernova, written interview with author

90 Chernova, written interview with author.

91 GTRK Sankt-Peterburg, “V Leningradskom stile . . .” [In Leningrad Style], July 25, 2018, Youtube video, 21:40, <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnsKaDrfBIY>.

92 Bolshakova, written interview with author.

93 Chernova, written interview with author.

94 Natalya Chernyshova, Soviet Consumer Culture in the Brezhnev Era (Abingdon, UK: Taylor & Francis, 2013), 12.

95 Gundle and Castelli, The Glamour System, 3.

96 Gundle, Glamour, 7.

97 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 191.

98 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 191.

99 Chernova, written interview with author.

100 Chernova, written interview with author.

101 Chernova, message to author on vk.com, April 14, 2023.

102 Huopalainen, “Manipulating Surface,” 335.

103 Huopalainen, “Manipulating Surface,” 335.

104 Yulia Gradskova, Soviet People with Female Bodies: Performing Beauty and Maternity in Soviet Russia in the Mid 1930–1960s (Stockholm: Stockholm University, 2007), 114.

105 Lebina, Muzhchina i zhenshchina, 101, 111.

106 Chernova, message to author on vk.com, March 13, 2023.

107 Chernova, message to author, March 13, 2023.

108 Chernova, written interview with author.

109 Chernova, message to author, March 13, 2023.

110 Huopalainen, “Manipulating Surface,” 348.

111 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 194.

112 Chernova, written interview with author.

113 Chernova, written interview with author.

114 Chernova, written interview with author.

115 Gustavson, Ya podumamayu, 291.

116 Chernova, written interview with author.

117 Chernova, written interview with author.

118 Marina Avdeeva, September 14, 2022, comment on Valentina Chernova’s post, Leningrad Dom Modelei Odezhdy. Nevsky 21, September 13, 2022, <https://vk.com/wall-187909891_741>.

119 Chernova, written interview with author.

120 Chernova, written interview with author.

121 Stephen Gundle, “Glamour Studies: The State of the Field,” Film, Fashion & Consumption 8, no. 1 (2019): 11.

122 Chernova, message to author on vk.com, March 21, 2023.

123 Gronow and Zhuravlev, Fashion Meets Socialism, 34.