Fashion in Poland After World War II
Between Paris and Moscow, between the silhouettes of the West and the patterns of the East, between dreams and poverty, wartime realities and new systems, conformism and rebellion. For post-war fashion in Poland, the fight was just beginning.
When the women citizens of Warsaw began returning to the capital in 1945, they did so in simple, patched suits and thick woollen stockings marked with traces of home darning. They carried suitcases that held all their belongings and wrapped their hair in turbans. The art critic Szymon Bojko noted that that turbans protected hair from the ubiquitous dust in the city. Warsaw was a city of rubble – 20 million cubic meters. The smell was also ubiquitous. There were no soap, toilets or drains.
Magda Grzebałkowska quotes the memories of Janina Broniewska in her reportage 1945:
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Ruin from all perspectives. There’s nothing. There’s nothing. Here, there’s death.
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Festival of Poland’s Rebirth, a party for the people on the sidewalks and squares demolished during WWII, near the ruins of Jasiński’s building at the intersection of 3 Maja Avenue (today Jerozolimskie Avenue) and Nowy Świat Street, Warsaw, April 1947, photo from the exhibition ‘New Start: Warsaw 1945-1955’, History Meeting House, photo: PAP / Jerzy Baranowski
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Anyone who returned to Warsaw could report to an office and get a one-time allowance of 500 zł. In January 1945, one pair of rayon stockings cost 800 zł. It seemed that fashion would never return. Poland was in ruins, and there was no place for such trivial concerns. The 14th July 1945 issue of Przekrój read:
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For heaven’s sake, ladies, see to something else! No one, after all, looks nice. But really, you can’t waste too much time on it, when there are so many important things to do.
The world comes into balance
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Women in silk stockings with seams, Warsaw, 1946, photo: E. Falkowski / CFK / Forum
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But just two months later, a ‘Fashion’ section appeared in the magazine (and would stay there permanently). The first text was an invitation for fashion to return and a witty manifesto:
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Women should be pretty. She should not dedicate half her life to this, but about 1/10th. As much as is normal for men to spend on bridge. Then, the world will return to balance and everyone will be happy.
And the world really did find balance – thanks to the needs of fashion and self-care. The capital came alive. The bazaar flourished. Amongst the ruined homes, in courtyards and non-existent intersections, hastily constructed metal boxes started to appear, advertising ‘Pedicure, Manicure’. Pre-war fashion houses reappeared – shoemakers, stocking makers, tailors and dressmakers. Advertisements popped up in newspapers telling customers that a plant had survived or had moved or been renamed. ‘Perm. Guaranteed, formerly at 19 Wolska, now 4 Sewerynów’.
The city’s shopping centre stood at the junction of Jerozolimskie Avenue and Marszałkowska Street. At that time, a private boutique, ‘Feniks’, was opened by Jadwiga Grabowska at the corner of Marszałkowska and Koszykowa streets. Grabowska later became one of the most important figures in fashion design during the era when Poland was under communism. She explained:
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I called the workshop ‘Feniks’ [trans. Phoenix], as it was reborn in this poor, ashen, burned Warsaw.
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Jadwiga Grabowska, 1975; photo: Lucjan Fogiel / Forum
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Within a few years, most boutiques were liquidated or nationalised. Feniks, however, began the story of haute couture which survived the era in which Poland was under communism.
A few years ago, the renowned photographer Andrzej Wiernicki recalled being sent to photograph the boutique for Express Wieczorny (The Evening Express) on his first fashion job. He had no concept for the shoot, as he was standing in for a sick colleague. He heard from the editorial board that it was the first post-war fashion salon – real fashion, ‘not for communists’. He was curious. Years later, he asserted:
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Without Jadwiga Grabowska, there would not only be no Polish Fashion, but no post-war Polish fashion at all.
After the war, fashion began to return, not only through the boutiques, but also via fashion shows – then called ‘reviews’. They appeared as early as the spring in 1947. When Christian Dior amazed Parisians with the ‘New Look’ – a new ‘A-line’ silhouette that required a dozen meters of fabric to sew a skirt – in Poland, fashion was still coloured by crisis, austerity and the hardened realities of war.
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The cover of the weekly ‘Moda i Życie’ and a spread ‘School Clothes for Students’ from it, 1949; photo: reproduction, FoKa / Forum
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Fashion looked to ‘alteration’ – or, as we would say today, ‘recycling’. As described in the press, this ‘creative processing’ aroused the greatest admiration among smart dressers. A journalist in the popular weekly Fashion and Practical Life reported on a fashion show:
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The alterations were so beautiful in a harmonious combination of colours, seams, sewing and lacing that you suspect fashionistas are ready to make new dresses like these, looking at such creative reuse.
Fashion shows were often accompanied by charity events – for example, to collect money for orphans.
The time of war and post-war reconstruction were one of shortage, debris, substitutions and erasures. When clothes were to be finished after years of everyday wear in a time of war, and there was no prospect for anything new, one had to – as was often repeated – ‘somehow make do’. To be fashionable, one often had to look for inspiration outside of their existing wardrobe. Enterprising women sewed with curtains, tablecloths, and blankets and adorned caps and boots with felt flowers. Every woman sewed. In Nowy Kurier Warszawski (The New Warsaw Courier), an article read:
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In every house there are old, threadbare sweaters, worn-out pullovers, scarves, etc. They lie forgotten and eaten by moths. Meanwhile, with good intentions and some work, we can refresh, modernise, and make them useable again.
Men’s wardrobes also became a source of inspiration. Men – in the army, sent back from forced labour, fighting with partisans – left behind closets full of clothes. Women fighting on the home front, behind the scenes of war, used these found materials to sew new coats and dresses. After the end of occupation, black outfits were in fashion and known as ‘English’, as they were made from the suits of visiting men. Magazines noted:
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In each closet there hangs, for example, an old tuxedo of the master of the house, who himself wore it to a wedding 30 years ago. It would seem to be such a useless thing, already purposeless, but that is not so. From a tailcoat, waistcoat, and trousers women can make a very nice and stylish outfit. If any women do not live in a house with an old tuxedo, no need to worry – just refashion any clothing your husband no longer wears.
Fashion can not only defend against war, but it can also use the materials of war. Many elegant women recycled parachutes into blouses and dresses. They offered thin, closely woven silk and later, nylon. At the end of the war, the British began to use excess materials in wedding dresses, and after the war, surplus parachutes reached Poland.
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Still from the film ‘Ashes and Diamonds’, directed by Andrzej Wajda, 1958, pictured: Zbigniew Cybulski; photo: Polfilm / East News
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Кадр из фильма «Пепел и алмаз», реж. Анджей Вайда, 1958 год, фото: Polflim / East News
Modest clothing resources reached Poles from the charity work of the United Nations and UNRRA (Organization of the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation). These were not, however, straight from Paris runways, but more typically khaki, jackets with epaulettes, parkas, green military sweaters, and wool ties. This military style became fashionable for men.
It is impossible to talk about the reconstruction of cultural masculinity after the war without mentioning Zbigniew Cybulski, who appeared in Ashes and Diamonds wearing a jacket from UNRRA, or Marek Hłasko – who wrote about how, thanks to his M-65 military jacket, he became the most handsome guy on the block.
Women had to learn how to creatively reimagine this military clothing. It became popular to carry military bags and wear military style suits and even altered military coats. Fortunately, aid packages occasionally included dresses – these were the dream: full skirts, round hips, narrow waists and fitted sleeves. Most fashionable women in the 1940s, however, had to settle for combining: sew a dress from the donated package, or a gown? Many tried to recreate some pre-war elegance in their dressing rooms.
Rylska advises diamonds, Lucynka sense
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Cover of the monthly magazine ‘Fashion and Practical Life’, 1946; photo: Andrzej Wiernicki / Forum
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Hence, a lot of evening dresses were reminiscent of styles of the 1930s. Even the magazine Przekrój was not sure how the new Polish woman was to dress. Initially there was a character – dubbed ‘the patron Rylska’ – who tried to restore old manners and customs, and jokingly noted that ‘a Christmas gift must come from the heart, even if it is a modest diamond ring’. Such refinement, however, only found a place in jokes.
Although they fed their eyes on reprints of foreign fashion magazines, women chose practical clothing for the everday. They did, however, look ahead with hope – and sewed themselves dresses with cheap viscose rayon. This material was available to everyone, and the grey streets flourished with women’s wardrobes, which influenced fashion designers and offered evidence of a burgeoning springtime optimism.
Soon, it turned out that a completely different fashion than anticipated had arrived in Poland. In the late 1940s, communism claimed fashion as one of the areas of aesthetics and everyday life in which the spirit of socialist realism was to be expressed. From that point on, fashion was to be modest and asexual. Feminine silhouettes were made more masculine; blouses were buttoned to the neck, hips widened and heads flattened by berets or caps.
Przekrój’s ‘Rylska’ had been silenced. By 1949, in her place, ‘Lucynka and Paulinka’ had appeared, who looked to bring ‘common sense’ to ideas and fashion trends. While the flighty Paulinka always wanted to buy and delight in fashion, the practical Lucynka constantly reminded her that functionality and efficiency are what matter. The ‘fashion bourgeois’ pushed towards constant consumption, but Polish citizens were to value practicality above all else – even if the aesthetics of the ‘shock workers’ disgusted them.
Olgierd Budrewicz mocked Jadwiga Grabowska’s ideas about fashion in Bedeker Warszawski (Warsaw Guidebook). He claimed that her version of elegance wasn’t for everyone.
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In shop windows and showcases are a few examples of dresses and coats that cost several thousand zlotys. From time to time, a normal woman runs the risk of wandering into the showroom – and almost always leaves broken and bitter. Only the wives of diplomats and the ‘Life’ photojournalist Lisa Larsen leave standing tall.
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Designs from the fashion house Moda Polska displayed in a tram depot, 1961, Warsaw; photo: Andrezej Wiernicki / Forum
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This shift in fashion began with a three-year plan for the economic reconstruction of the country (1947-1949), whose slogans ‘raise the standard of living for workers’ or ‘socialisation’ meant, in practice, the nationalisation and centralisation of control of all forms of private property. This mainly affected large enterprises; private craftsmen and tailors survived. They would be the ones who supplied the youth with new fashions. People often were seen peering into the tailor shop with their purchases from the state fabric market.
Efforts were made to cover up what was obvious to everyone – poverty. The image of a dazzlingly beautiful socialist women and her handsome lover were nothing more than an illusion created for films such as Adventure in Mariensztat. Everyday ordinary people still wore repurposed clothes, made from what could be found at at home, supplemented with ‘national products’ that were of poor quality and drab colour.
Beatniks & kittens buy junk
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Tadeusz Rolke, advertisement for the Smyk Department Store, 1960; photo: Taduesz Rolke / Agencja Gazeta
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With the first post-war generation, however, dreams of a different story developed, with different colours and different ideals. From that generation – even before the International Youth Festival in 1955 – emerged the first youth countercultures in Poland under communism, known as beatniks (bikinarzy) and kittens. This generation rushed to new markets – ‘Różycki’ in Warsaw and ‘na tandetę’ (‘for junk’) in Kazimierz in Kraków. Of the market in Warsaw, Agnieszka Osiecka wrote that it served as the ‘Great Therapist’ to the Polish soul – it let them rewrite the trauma of scarcity and deprivation.
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Beatniks – colourful socks and ties, photo by F. Koziński, photo: reproduction, FoKa / Forum
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The beatniks loved everything that seemed American and associated with jazz. They wore big coats, cropped narrow pants, platform shoes, flat caps, colourful ties with bold patterns and striped socks, which became a symbol of this group – partly thanks to the famous representative of the culture, writer Leopold Tyrmand.
The feminine beatniks – ‘kittens’ – favoured the fashions of American teenagers. They liked hoop skirts, tight sweaters, colourfully patterned blouses and teased their hair into ponytails or ‘elaborate chaos’. Camel cigarettes, sunglasses, and dark eye makeup in the style of Hollywood femme fatale Rita Hayworth were also quite popular.
‘Kittens’ and ‘beatniks’ had decidedly negative connotations – it would be several years before these girls and their icon, Brigitte Bardot, appeared on the cover of Przekrój.
Many magazines continued to repeat the mantra that bourgeois fashion was uncomfortable, immoral and wanted to rule the wearer. Socialist fashion, in contrast, was celebrated as comfortable, natural, body friendly, and above all, as catering to the needs of the user (and wrinkle-free!).
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Fashion shoot, photo: Andrzej Wiernicki / Forum
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Poles after the war had to constantly manoeuvre between Paris and Moscow, between the silhouettes of the West and the patterns of the East, between dreams and poverty, wartime realities and new systems, conformism and rebellion. Post-war fashion in Poland continued to fight – first for its right to exist, and then over its identity.
Originally written in Polish by Karolina Sulej, translated by AGA, Aug 2016
Sources: ‘Cywilizacja Przekroju: Misja Obyczajowa w Magazynie Ilustrowanym’ by Justyna Jaworska (Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego 2008), Z Politycznym Fasonem: Rzecz o Modzie Młodzieżowej w PRL i NRD’ by Anna Pelka (Słowo Obraz Terytoria 2014), Exhibition Catalogue from ‘Modna i już! Moda w PRL’, National Museum in Kraków, curated by Joanna Kowalska & Małgorzata Możdżyńska-Nowotka (2015), ‘Caryca Polskiej Mody, Święci i Grzesznicy’ by Marta Sztokfisz, (W.A.B. 2015), ‘To Nie są Moje Wielbłądy: O Modzie w PRL’ by Aleksandra Boćkowska (Czarne 2015).