• Home
  • About
  • Author
  • Reviews
  • Media/Events
  • Contact

The Making of Markova

~ A biography by Tina Sutton

The Making of Markova

Tag Archives: Lydia Sokolova

Tipping the Scales with Markova

08 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Agnes de Mille, Alexandra Danilova, Alicia Markova, Anna Pavlova, Anton Dolin, Apollo, Ballets Russes, Choura, English National Ballet School, Frederick Ashton, George Balanchine, Giselle, Kathleen Rea, Léon Woizikovsky, Le Bal, Les Masques, Liverpool Boxing Ring, Lydia Sokolova, Marie Rambert, Maryinsky Ballet School, Milorad Miskovitch, National Ballet of Canada, Sergei Diaghilev, Tamara Karsavina, The Festival Ballet, The Haunted Ballroom

Markova ate all day long to keep up her strength

Markova ate all day long to keep up her strength

“A girl must eat, particularly a ballet girl,” Alicia Markova told the London Daily Herald in 1954. “She burns up tremendous energy.” Unfortunately, the opposite message was recently conveyed to students at the English National Ballet School, a company originally co-founded by Markova (as The Festival Ballet) in 1950.

“Fabulous to have students and staff back in school after the Xmas break,” read the Facebook post. “Time to work off all that Xmas food.” A swift backlash ensued. “Scrutiny of weight and expectations for dancers to be unnaturally thin are prevalent in the ballet world,” former National Ballet of Canada dancer Kathleen Rea told the London Evening Standard. “I think the only logical conclusion a student would have reading the post is that they need to lose weight.”

The womanly figure of Russian prima ballerina Tamara Karsavina was the ideal in the early 1900s

The womanly figure of Russian prima ballerina Tamara Karsavina was considered the ideal in the early 1900s

How times change. When Markova began dancing in the early 1920s, her naturally bone-thin physique was considered unattractive for a dancer. Robust, athletic figures, like that of celebrated Russian prima ballerina Tamara Karsavina, were then the norm. The sylphilke Anna Pavlova, who Markova closely resembled both physically and stylistically, was a noted exception. At first considered too fragile to attend the Maryinsky Ballet School, Pavlova only won her spot by showing a combination of fierce determination and poetry in movement. An exception was made.

Lilian Alicia Marks when she joined the Ballets Russes

The tiny Lilian Alicia Marks when she joined the Ballets Russes

Lydia Sokolova seekingly easy to life by partner Léon Woizikovsky in Le Train Bleu (1924)

The muscular Lydia Sokolova apparently lifted with ease by partner Léon Woizikovsky (Le Train Bleu 1924)

The same could be said of the just turned-14 Lilian Alicia Marks, who Diaghilev asked to join his famed Ballets Russes in 1924, shocking the rest of the company. The rechristened Markova was so tiny and frail-looking compared to the more established ballerinas like the vivacious Lydia Sokolova (real name Hilda Munnings) and sparkling Alexandra Danilova (soon to become Markova’s lifelong best friend). A mere waif, Markova surprised them all with her unexpectedly dynamic athleticism.

Danilova at the Ballets Russes (Apollo, 1928)

Danilova at the Ballets Russes (Apollo, 1928)

Danilova – said to have had the loveliest legs in ballet – struggled with her weight briefly following her defection from Russia. It was in 1924, when she and soon-to-be-lover George Balanchine joined the Ballets Russes, having recently spent the summer performing in Berlin.

When Alexandra Danilova put on a few pounds, Anton Dolin remarked when lifting her," What do you think I am, a piano mover?"

“Piano Mover” Anton Dolin with Alexandra Danilova, (Le Bal, 1929)

Best friends Markova and Danilova shared a healthy appetite

Best friends Markova and Danilova shared a healthy appetite (Photo from The Making of Markova)

“I had gained weight since leaving Russia – all that German food has made me plump,” Danilova wrote in her autobiography Choura. “I started to rehearse with [Anton] Dolin, he complained about having to lift me. ‘What do you think I am, a piano mover?’ he asked.

“One night, I asked Balanchine to go out into the audience and watch me. He came backstage after the performance and said, ‘You want the truth?’ ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Choura, you look terrible – you’ve gotten so fat. What happened to you?’ The next morning, I went straight to the pharmacy and bought a bottle of diet pills – one in the morning, one in the evening, the directions said. Well, I thought, I’ll take five and I will melt immediately.

George Balanchine when he joined the Ballets Russes

George Balanchine at the Ballets Russes

“The next thing I remember George was shaking me – I had passed out. He picked up the bottle and asked me, ‘Is this what you took?’ ‘Yes,’ I answered. He opened the window and threw the bottle out, then gave me a lecture about how I should lose the extra weight.” After Danilova switched to a healthy – and hearty – diet with lots of fish and no more sweets, the extra pounds disappeared. “Life in Russia had been a diet in itself,” she joked. Choura’s self-imposed, and certainly ill-fated, get-thin-quick scheme is a cautionary tale for today’s dance students.

The featherweight Markova ate prodigiously (photo by Constantine)

The featherweight Markova ate prodigiously (photo by Constantine)

Markova’s own diet proved shocking to peers, but for very different reasons. From The Making of Markova: Paper-thin, Markova looked as if a soft breeze could blow her down, with the press often speculating that she needed to eat more to keep up her strength. When she appeared in The Rake’s Progress, the Daily Sketch reviewer commented, “Markova, as the Betrayed Girl, was her exquisite self – a delight – but one wished for her art’s sake that she would eat a dozen steaks a day.” Little did he know about the dancer’s legendary appetite, as Marie Rambert (founder of London’s Ballet Club where Markova performed in the early 1930s) recalled quite vividly:

Markova "flying" in Giselle

Markova “flying” in Giselle

“Everyone who sees Markova, that exquisite ethereal creature, must imagine she lives exclusively in the air. What was our staggering surprise when after our first matinee, in which she danced the most birdlike of Swans, she sent out for a large steak and kidney pie which she proceeded to consume with relish! We were even more staggered when, at the same evening’s performance, her Sylphides was lighter than air! Not one ounce of what she absorbs ever turns to fat. It is all transmuted into the most subtle instrument of dancing. 

the other-worldly Markova in The Haunted Ballroom (1934)

The other-worldly Markova in The Haunted Ballroom (1934)

“Happy Markova who can eat like a mortal and dance like an immortal.” 

Equally in awe was dancer/choreographer Agnes de Mille, a student at Rambert’s Ballet Club when Markova was its reigning star. As de Mille wrote in her autobiography Speak to Me, Dance with Me: Alicia Markova, the stringiest girl I ever saw, a darling little skeleton, with the great eyes of a moth at the top, and a butterfly blur at the bottom where normally feet would be, and in between shocks and flashes of electricity.

Markova at the Ballet Club in Les Masques (1933)

Markova at the Ballet Club in Les Masques (1933)

When she paused there was the most beautifully surprising line I had ever looked at. She was twenty, although she looked much older because she was so thin. She didn’t look any age when she moved. She became a delicate force.

Throughout her career, the press often asked Markova for her “secret” diet tips to pass on to their weight-conscious readers. Her answer always astonished, as in this 1937 British newspaper interview titled No Special Diet – Markova Tells of Her Training: “On Sunday afternoon a petite dark-haired girl walked through the lounge of the Prince of Wales Hotel, settled herself in an armchair and ordered tea.

Markova photographed while eating a bountiful tea

Markova photographed while eating a bountiful tea

“She had a very good tea. Scones, bread and butter and cakes. For although she is superlatively slim, with a figure like a nymph, she is one of those lucky people who never have to diet. ‘Tell me, how is it you are slight and dainty, when so many ballet dancers are muscular and inclined to heaviness?’ That amused Markova.

“’Oh, I have muscles, too, but they are not visible. Perhaps that is because I have had the right sort of training, and have been taught dancing by the right people. Also, I can relax my whole body quite completely. Apparently this is quite a rare accomplishment, so my masseuse tells me.’

Markova was known for her poise on and off stage

Markova was known for her poise and “stillness” on and off stage

“That accounts for the remarkable poise. All through the interview her slim fingers lay quite composed in her lap, except when they were holding food. ‘No special diet then?’ Another dazzling smile. ‘No, quite the reverse, in fact. I believe that a dancer’s life is so strenuous he or she must eat plenty of nourishing food, otherwise they could not stand the pace. But I do not smoke at all – although I love chocolates!'” (See earlier post when Cadbury came calling!)

Markova vigorously rehearsing with partner Anton Dolin

Markova ate more than partner Anton Dolin

In 1942, a reporter for the Cheyenne, Wyoming Eagle was equally amazed at Markova’s diet: “Only 97 pounds, Markova’s daily schedule is as strenuous as a longshoreman’s, and to keep up with her energy-consuming routine the dancer eats five times a day, plus a couple of strawberry milkshakes for good measure. As a child, she was painfully thin and anemic and at the recommendation of her doctor she took dancing lessons to build herself up. Today, though Markova looks as fragile as a china doll, she has the constitution of a powerhouse – and the enviable reputation of being one of the greatest ballerinas of all time.”

"Chocolates, starch, stout, five-course meals - I've tried the lot," says Markova.

“If you still believe from the look of me that I live on butterfly wings, come out to dinner with me. But make sure you’ve got plenty of time.”

Markova quickly realized her voracious eating habits made for great press copy – and newspaper features sold tickets. That candor also endeared her to fans of both sexes, who found her healthy appetite downright refreshing in the rarified world of ballet. But on one occasion, Markova’s diet – or lack thereof – made headlines on two continents, turning into a marketing bonanza for a 1954 British countrywide tour with talented partner Milorad Miskovitch.

Markova and Miskovitch – as a pair, with no corps of other dancers – were booked to perform at the Liverpool Philharmonic Hall. But just before the set date, the Philharmonic Society cancelled the engagement, as amusingly recounted in the London Daily Express:

She Might Harm the Machinery: 7 st. Alicia “must not dance on our stage.” Seven-stone (98 pound) Alicia Markova, “the ballerina who lands like a snowflake,” has been refused permission to dance at the Liverpool Harmonic Hall – because her dainty movement might damage delicate machinery under the stage. The stage holds the weight of the 72-strong Philharmonic Orchestra. School choirs use the stage and hundreds of boys scurry across it to receive their prizes at school speech days.IMG_2713

But Markova – she drinks a bottle of stout every night to keep her weight from dropping below seven stone – has been told: “sorry, but we can’t allow you to dance on the stage.” Critics have said Markova defies the law of gravity. Anton Dolin, her former partner, once said: “I have to pluck her out of the air.” Mr. W. C. Stiff, secretary of the Philharmonic Society, said yesterday: “Delicate machinery which operates the 25ft.-high screen is housed under the stage. The corporation put a ban on dancing because of the risk of damaging machinery.” No exception. Mr. Stiff added: “Although the stage is used for a variety of purposes, the people do not dance. Markova dances.”

After performing in a boxing ring, Markova offered to "weigh-in" again at London's Royal Albert Hall

After performing in a boxing ring, Markova offered to “weigh-in” again at London’s Royal Albert Hall

She also knew a great story when she saw one. With Markova quotes like, “I’d be much more likely to float straight up and damage the ceiling!”, the ridiculous tale was picked up by the international newswires, appearing in papers throughout Europe and across the United States. But the press coverage didn’t stop there. Hoping to cash in on some of the publicity, owners of the Liverpool boxing ring offered their arena to Markova. They were undoubtedly shocked when she said “Yes!”

7st Alicia in wrestle-land, screamed the headline in one paper. Markova in ‘ring’ triumph, boasted another. “7 st. ballerina Alicia Markova tripped lightly back to a dressing room normally used by 20st. wrestlers. . . . her mirror propped on a  massage table. On the walls were scrawled fighter’s autographs.” . . . “She had just come downstairs from the stadium itself where 3000 people had rapturously applauded her for five minutes.” . . .images “Afterwards she sent a message to the audience, who had recalled her nine times: ‘Sign your programs, send them in, and I’ll autograph them all.'”

In the world of ballet, Markova was the reigning heavyweight.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Email
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

What’s in a Name? Fame!

15 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alastair Macaulay, Alicia Markova, American Ballet Theatre, Anton Dolin, Antony Tudor, Ballets Russes, Charles Payne, Cyd Charisse, Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly, German Sevastianov, Gillian Murphy, Irina Baronova, Léon Bakst, Leonide Massine, Lydia Sokolova, Marc Chagall, Margot Fonteyn, Nora Kaye, Olga Spessitseva, Sergei Diaghilev, Sol Hurok

Alicia Markova, age 14, at Diaghilev's Ballets Russes

Alicia Markova, age 14, at Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes

“Who would pay to see Marks dance?” Sergei Diaghilev asked the youngest-ever soloist at his famed Ballets Russes. She was Lilian Alicia Marks, a tiny and timid British girl, just turned 14. She knew what was coming next. Ballet was a world of classically-trained Russians: Pavlova, Nijinsky, Karsavina, Danilova. So Diaghilev rechristened his little dance prodigy Alicia Markova. Lily Alicia was actually disappointed. It was only a few letters tacked onto her last name. Why not the more dramatic Olga Markova, in honor of her hero, ballet legend Olga Spessitseva? But uh-LEE-see-ah MAR-kova it would be.

“What’s in a name?” asked Shakespeare in Romeo & Juliet. “That which we call a rose by any other would smell as sweet.” But does a delivery of rosa berberifolias fill you with joy? The flower’s latin name sounds more like a skin rash than a romantic bloom. So with all due deference to the Bard, there’s a lot in a name, especially for performers.

Eugene Curran and Tula Ellice

Eugene Curran and Tula Ellice: not ideal marquis names

One of the most popular dance couples of all times might have had trouble enticing American movie audiences as “McMath & Austerlitz,” a name more befitting an accounting firm. Much catchier is Rogers & Astaire. And Eugene Curran Kelly smartly went with the jauntier Gene. (Fun fact: Markova and Gene Kelly liked to play charades together.) Then there’s Kelly’s impossibly long-limbed partner Cyd Charisse. Would she have ever seen her name up in lights if she stuck with Tula Ellice Finklea?

In a recent New York Times article, the paper’s dance critic Alastair Macaulay wondered if today’s talented American ballerinas would be given more roles if they too considered changing their names:

Gillian Murphy at ABT

Gillian Murphy dancing with American Ballet Theatre

“For many people, a ballerina must also be an embodiment of the Old World,” writes Macaulay. “Today that opinion seems shared by American Ballet Theater, whose idea of ballet theater often seems none too American. In its eight-week season, which just concluded at the Metropolitan Opera House, only 2 of its 11 principal women were from this country. The younger of them, Gillian Murphy, is reaching the zenith of her powers; but would she be more revered if — following the practice of Hilda Munnings (Lydia Sokolova), Lilian Alicia Marks (Alicia Markova) and Peggy Hookham (Margot Fonteyn) — she changed her name to Ghislaine Muravieva and claimed to come from Omsk?”

Markova starred with the American Ballet Theatre (then called just Ballet Theatre) in its start-up years in the early 1940s. Previously, she had made her stellar reputation by pioneering British ballet at a time only Russian companies were considered true ballet artists. When interviewed by a London newspaper in 1933, Markova posed the question, “Are we becoming ballet-minded?” As excerpted in The Making of Markova: 

Lily Marks and Patte Kay

Lily Marks and Patte Kay: better names for vaudeville than ballet

“British Ballet has had to work hard, but I think we have come through,” Miss Markova told the Daily Sketch. “It is becoming so popular in theatres and cinema houses that thousands of British girls are going into training. Soon we shall be able to leave off our ‘Russian’ names – and be just plain Jones and Smith,” laughed Miss Markova. “I got my early training with Diaghileff, and, of course, he wouldn’t let us have any but Russian names.” . . . It made all the difference, though, no doubt, the dancing was the same.

Lest anyone think this was entirely a female prejudice, male dancers also changed their names. Markova’s most frequent partner, Anton Dolin, was christened Francis Patrick Chippendall Healey-Kay. When starting to dance professionally, he took the first name Anton, after Chekhov, with Diaghilev suggesting Patrikayev for his last. But after a few years, Patte, as everyone called him, changed it once again, this time to Dolin, which stuck. Even celebrated dancer/choreographer Léonide Massine, who was Russian by birth, got a name change courtesy of Diaghilev. The impresario thought Leonid Fyodorovich Myasin too difficult to pronounce.

Jewish Ballets Russes designer Léon Bakst painted by fellow Jewish artist Modigliani

Ballets Russes designer Léon Bakst changed his name to sound less Jewish. Here painted by fellow Jewish artist Amedeo Modigliani.

The illustrious Ballets Russes artist Léon Bakst changed his Russian name for a very different reason. Born Lev Samoilovich Rosenberg, he “renamed himself Léon Bakst after moving to St. Petersburg, where he quickly established a reputation both as a painter and as a sophisticated and much revered set and costume designer,” explains author Jonathan Wilson in his 2007 biography of Marc Chagall, one of Bakst’s pupils. “Bakst, who had worked hard to erase at least some elements of his Jewishness – had converted to Lutheranism in 1903 so he could marry a wealthy Christian – but converted back seven years later after the marriage fell apart.” (The Jewish Chagall would also change his name to better fit in with his new artistic home in Paris. Thus Moishe Shagal became Marc Chagall.)

Many Jewish artists and performers experienced virulent anti-Semitism in Russia and Europe throughout the early-to-mid 20th century, including Alicia Markova, who always remained fiercely open and proud of her religion.

Ballet Theatre's unpopular business manager, German Sevastianov

Ballet Theatre’s ruthless business manager, German Sevastianov

When Markova signed with New York’s Ballet Theatre in 1941, German Sevastianov was the newly named business manager brought on by booking impresario Sol Hurok to “Russify” the company. As Ballet Theatre’s then managing director Charles Payne recalled in his fascinating book American Ballet Theatre, it was like the “Russian Occupation,” all part of Hurok’s master plan for billing the American company as “The Greatest in Russian Ballet.”

From The Making of Markova: “Sevastianov saw to it that dancers who were formerly principals would now be demoted to soloists,” writes Antony Tudor biographer Donna Perlmutter. “He cast a jaundiced eye on the likes of Miriam Golden, Nora Kaye, Muriel Bentley, David Nillo and more – most of them Jews – and brought in dancers, along with Baronova (Sevastianov’s wife, prima ballerina Irina Baronova) from the Ballet Russe [de Monte Carlo]. It was said that he was anti-American, anti-Jewish, and anti-Tudor.”

Markova as Giselle at Ballet Theatre, 1941

Markova as Giselle at Ballet Theatre, 1941

But when it came to Markova, Sevastianov had no choice. The “Jewess” was to share the limelight as principal ballerina with his wife Irina.

She was just too big a box-office draw to ignore.

Ironically, despite being anti-Semitic, Sevastianov would change his own name due to American prejudices against Germans at the outbreak of World War II. So “German” Sevastianov became the friendlier “Gerry.” But another white lie would force him to actually defend the Jewish cause on the front lines, according to Ballet Theatre’s Charles Payne. In order to obtain Baronova’s parents’ permission for the couple to marry – Irina was only 17, and Sevastianov nearly twice her age –  he had claimed to be born in 1906, rather than 1904, as 29 sounded much younger than 31. Sevastianov even maintained the falsehood on his American passport. Those few years unfortunately made him eligible for the draft in 1944, though he was actually past the age 35 cut-off. But when “Gerry” informed the draft board of his real birth year, he was offered two options: spend the war years in jail for perjury, or serve the country. Suddenly the armed forces didn’t seem so bad.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Email
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

Coco Chanel and the Ballets Russes

01 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Alicia Markova, Ballets Russes, Bronislava Nijinska, Chanel No. 5, Coco Chanel, Igor Stravinsky, Jean Cocteau, Le Train Bleu, little black dress, Lydia Sokolova, Monte Carlo, Pablo Picasso, Sergei Daighilev

Coco Chanel

Coco Chanel

On May 5, 1921 – the fifth day of the fifth month – Coco Chanel had a gift for her soigné clientele. She had commissioned Ernest Beaux, known as le nez (the nose), to create a variety of fragrances for her review. Number five was the clear winner. Chanel No. 5 would become the best-selling perfume of all time, with current estimates that a bottle is sold every 30 seconds around the globe.

From May 5th through June 5th, the Palais de Tokyo in Paris is hosting a special exhibition titled No 5 Culture Chanel celebrating the “timeless and iconic artistic essence” of the famous perfume. Certainly that description also defines Chanel’s divinely classic fashions, as relevant today as when they were first introduced.

Chanel with Ballets Russes dancer Serge Lifar

Chanel with Ballets Russes dancer Serge Lifar

But of course, those designs were anything but classic in the early decades of the 20th century. Chanel was a rule breaker in life and work, which brought her to the attention of Ballets Russes impresario Sergei Diaghilev. Chanel happily joined his circle of creative groundbreakers, offering both monetary and artistic support (not to mention having a scandalous affair with the married composer Igor Stravinsky).

It was in the company’s home base of Monte Carlo on the French Riviera that the 14-year-old Alicia Markova would come under the spell of the famed fashion designer.

Markova in La Chatte (The Cat) at the Ballets Russes

Markova in La Chatte (The Cat) at the Ballets Russes

Markova remembered seeing Chanel and Pablo Picasso sitting together during dress rehearsals for new productions. Diaghilev staged “fashion parades” of costumed dancers for the pair, seeking their opinions and suggestions. The Ballets Russes was as famous for its highly original sets and costumes as for its music and choreography.

“Highly original” is also a perfect description of Chanel’s novel modern design aesthetic at the time. After decades of women being painfully cinched into tight, wasp-waisted corsets and covered neck-to-toe in elaborately draped fabric, Chanel chose to reveal the body’s natural contours in comfortable, softened silhouettes. It was as revolutionary as Cubism.

Chanel's clingy new bathing suits captured by Picasso in "Women Bathing" 1918,

Chanel’s clingy new bathing suits captured by Picasso in “Women Bathing” 1918,

“The provocative Chanel bathing suits – sleeveless, skirtless, clinging – would catch Picasso’s eye,” writes his biographer John Richardson. “Fascinated by this revolutionary garment’s effect on the way women looked and behaved, Picasso did a fine, small painting of three bathing-suited girls – each fiddling with their hair – on the beach below Palace Hotel. This is the first of countless bather compositions in Picasso’s work.”

Diaghilev also took notice of Chanel’s “sports clothes” revolution in the Riviera, asking her to design costumes for his new contemporary production Le Train Bleu (the luxury locomotive that transported wealthy Europeans to Monte Carlo). With libretto by Jean Cocteau and choreography by Bronislava Nijinska (Nijinsky’s sister), the satirical ballet poked gentle fun at the idle rich vacationers.  Diaghilev asked Chanel to translate her latest de la mode styles for the dancers. While audiences loved it, the performers were less enthused.

Chanel's costumes for Le Train Bleu

Chanel’s costumes for Le Train Bleu

As I wrote in The Making of Markova: Consider poor Lydia Sokolova. Chanel presented her with a wool jersey bathing costume and rubber slippers that stuck to the stage. What could be worse? The ballerina also had to wear oversized faux pearl earrings, much like the costume jewels favored by Chanel’s affluent clientele, the very ones who would be in the audience on opening night. The ear bobs were so large and cumbersome, Sokolova couldn’t hear her orchestra cues. Leon Woizikowski fared no better. He had to master grand leaps while wearing his Chanel-designed golf knickers, shirt, tie and striped long sleeve sweater; and Nijinska’s tennis dress came complete with a full-size racket.

Markova à la Chanel

Markova à la Chanel

Markova was well aware of Chanel’s status as the epitome of modern chic on the Riviera. Diaghilev had told her to study not only how “Coco” dressed, but also how she walked and sat. The teenager couldn’t have found a more stylish role model, and the adult Markova would come to share her fashion idol’s preference for understated elegance, black and white fashions, and a few pieces of dramatic costume jewelry.

The always understated and chic Markova

Markova in anything-but-basic black

As a young child, Markova had felt unattractive compared to her three pretty sisters. “I didn’t even look a typically English little girl of the period,” she wrote in her personal memoirs. So after studying the most stylish women in the neighborhood, Lily Marks (as she was then called) decided basic black was quite chic, requesting that rather adult color for her first party dress at age five.

Markova © 1935

Markova circa 1935

“Everyone laughed, but I wore a little black satin dress trimmed with white lace,” Markova recalled proudly. She would still be wearing basic black with white lace accents (as in the hat seen at right) three decades later.

While at the Ballets Russes, Markova witnessed firsthand a banner year for women’s fashion. It was in 1926 that Chanel introduced her first “little black dress.” As Edmonde Charles-Roux writes in her book Chanel and her World:

Markova in a little black dress, with sister Doris

Markova in a little black dress, with sister Doris

“In 1926, the American edition of Vogue predicted that a certain black dress created by Chanel – a simple sheath in crêpe-de-chine, with long, closely fitting sleeves – would become a sort of uniform for all women of taste. But hordes of women wearing the same dress? Such a forecast seemed totally irrational.”

From then on, simply-cut black cocktail dresses that showed off her lithe figure would become Markova’s signature style, as it would be for countless chic women to this very day.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Email
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

Order on Amazon

  • Order from Barnes & Noble
  • Order from IndieBound
    • Write to Tina

    Archives

    • October 2014
    • August 2014
    • June 2014
    • May 2014
    • April 2014
    • March 2014
    • February 2014
    • January 2014
    • December 2013
    • November 2013
    • October 2013
    • September 2013
    • August 2013
    • July 2013
    • June 2013
    • May 2013
    • April 2013
    • March 2013

    Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 39 other followers

    Links

    • BU Gotlieb Archive

    Blog at WordPress.com.

    • Follow Following
      • The Making of Markova
      • Join 39 other followers
      • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
      • The Making of Markova
      • Customize
      • Follow Following
      • Sign up
      • Log in
      • Report this content
      • View site in Reader
      • Manage subscriptions
      • Collapse this bar
     

    Loading Comments...
     

      %d bloggers like this: