From us to You
In First Person
I am a doctor. But when I hold in my hands these yellowed pages written in the different handwritings of my ancestors, I can’t help but feel like Alice in Wonderland – so incredible is the legacy bestowed on me. Carefully written out formulas and careless, casually scribbled personal notes on the margins. Some of these notes have dates, others don’t. Unbound diaries, missing halves of the pages. Time is merciless. Yet, I am willing to reveal the mystery which I made humble attempts to unravel and which, for understandable reasons, dared not reveal those who came before me – the dear women of my family who, for more than two centuries, developed unique beauty recipes. And kept them a secret.
.
This almost magical story begins in an almost magical little town in the Prussian Province of Pomerania – «the sea gate» of Berlin. Green fields, ample waterbodies and an atmosphere of utter freedom — that’s what Stettin is like. Sophie Friederike Auguste of Anhalt-Zerbst is born here in 1729. She is a curious and mischievous child, fond of dares. She is friends with the boys and with an adventure-loving Jewish girl named Leiba, the local apothecary’s daughter, a wild tomboy just like herself.
In the winter of 1744 fifteen-year-old Princess Sophie (known by the nickname Fike) leaves Stettin to marry the Russian heir to the throne. She is going to become Catherine the Great. After two unsuccessful pregnancies and a complicated first labour, deprived of motherhood and finding no sympathy from her husband or his mother, Catherine like never before needs family support, which unfortunately she is lacking here in her new homeland. She needs to be with someone from her carefree past and so she decides to invite her childhood friend to St. Petersburg. As circumstances have it, the apothecary’s daughter is ready for change and happy to arrive bearing Prussian medicines to help restore Catherine’s health (back then only apothecary-made drugs could be guaranteed to be safe and of good quality).
Thus, in the spring of 1755, Leiba H., now a young widow with a new-born daughter Hannah, is brought before “the eyes of her royal highness”, the future Empress.
This marks the beginning of an exciting journey into the history of our cosmetics. According to family legend, Leiba’s daughter inherits her grandfather’s passion for pharmacology. Curious and sharp, she is going to accomplish a lot in this field. Following Catherine’s example, Hannah is an avid reader from a very young age. She’s especially interested in botany. Right after ascending to the throne, Catherine the Great is going to start implementing her project of female education by opening the Smolny Institute for Noble Maidens on April 24, 1764. Meanwhile, the future Empress plays an active role in Hannah’s upbringing by guiding and encouraging her. Catherine introduces her female protégé to major scientists.
Among others, to the Doctor of Medicine, the First Doctor of the Smolny Institute, State Councilor Ivan Fedorovich Agte.
The young woman spends all her days in the Pharmaceutical Garden on Vorony Island, where she learns about rare plants and, if lucky, gets to attend lectures of famous scientists.
This garden, established by Tsar Peter the Great, provides plants for teaching botany in the capital’s medical and educational establishments. Of course, Hannah doesn’t become a doctor. Only by the end of the next century women are going to win the right to higher education. Yet she provides medical assistance to the court ladies and does a lot of medical charity work.
The “herbal paste” was developed by the founder of our dynasty. The “Tsar’s crème” was also created by her especially for the Empress and her court ladies so that they could “preserve the noble paleness of their skin.
Unfortunately, the identity of Hannah’s husband remains unknown. However, we do know that her daughter Bertha, following in her mother’s footsteps, successfully developed cosmetic products for the ladies and gentlemen of the court.
The cosmetic trends of the time were thus described by Elizaveta Yankova, an aristocratic chronicler of the time from Moscow: “In the evening, especially if there was going to be a ball, one had to use a lot of blush, some girls put kohl on their brows and white powder on their faces…”
Bertha, knowing that blushes and bleaching productscontained lead, zinc oxide, mercury, silver nitrate and other toxic substances, insisted on systematic skin care routines and careful makeup removal. She developed the deep cleansing mask, which, aside from cleansing, has aesthetic benefits – it helps fight minor blemishes and achieve smooth, even and glowing skin with a soft youthful blush.
In addition to the mask, of course, there was a need to develop a more lightweight cleansing lotion to be used on skin, recently awoken. The “Porcelain Water”, as Bertha named it, effectively removes excess sebum produced overnight and makes the skin appear even and completely matte.
The French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars of the late 18th and beginning of the 19th centuries notonly transform the financial, trade and diplomatic systems of the European countries, but also result in achanged attitude towards the Jewish community, who traditionally worked in these fields. Until this point in time Jews were usually the ones who supplied royal courts with goods and money and provided precious metals for the mint and supplies for the army.
However, times change and the Jewish community’s place in society shifts as their influence in Europe and Russia wanes. Despite the patronage of another Stettin-born royal, the wife of Pavel I, Empress Maria Feodorovna, known for founding many charitable organizations (the Royal Philanthropic Society, the Midwives ‘ Institute, the Moscow School of the Order of St Catherine for Girls, etc.), Bertha is forced to leave Russia in 1814. Since German is her inherited native language, she goes to Prussia.
… Following this – radio silence. A gap. We don’t have any printed record of Bertha’s life or the lives of two generations of her descendants. As if they never existed. We searched all the archives and examined a multitude of documents in attempts to find a single trace. Despite Russia annexing a lot of territory, its history in the 19th century was filled with riots and civil unrest. Perhaps the trace of Bertha’s family got lost in the whirlwind of these events? We almost lost hope, but then… there it was! My mother’s aunt suddenly recalled an old newspaper cut-out (she insisted that she even remembered its title: “The Economic Magazine”).
I checked, and yes, there existed such a journal, and it even published articles on skincare.
After a challenging search, we found this cut-out in one of the old photo albums. It contained unclear, scarcely legible, disconnected sentences: “The Emperor and his closest relatives on vacation in Livadiya… attracted… officers and other army officials … to seaside resorts… Unbelievable popularity among ladies… of a sun cream (to be used before or after sun exposure?) developed by a nineteen-year-old lady Haitin, whose relatives used to provide for the royal court…in the last century.”
After a challenging search, we found this cut-out in one of the old photo albums. It contained unclear, scarcely legible, disconnected sentences: “The Emperor and his closest relatives on vacation in Livadiya… attracted… officers and other army officials … to seaside resorts… Unbelievable popularity among ladies… of a sun cream (to be used before or after sun exposure?) developed by a nineteen-year-old lady Haitin, whose relatives used to provide for the royal court…in the last century.”
There’s no date, only the year – 1899. The ancient cut-out is literally falling to dust in my hands. I wish we could preserve it! My aunt promises she will.
Back to Libi Haitin. We see her in the family archive. She was born in 1880. It is highly unlikely that she was a court lady herself, but she could have been friends with someone from the royal court (physicians to the last three Russian emperors were Jewish). In any case, the link is affirmed. Which means she was the one who developed the recipe for the famous sun cream from my precious heritage.
By the end of the 19th century, being “natural” becomes fashionable. The use of white powders, blush and face powder is considered vulgar and limited to the demi-monde. The noble women want their skin to look natural, healthy, flawless, without any hyperpigmentation, redness or scars. For this purpose, a special exfoliating and skin-evening cream is developed.
Now it’s 1914. We get a glimpse of the other side of civilian life: The First World War gives rise to frightening creations – new weapons of mass destruction: chemical weapons, flame fougasse, flamethrowers. Libi Haitin creates a special rich ointment to treat burns of soldiers injured at war. It proves successful in healing even third-degree burns and preventing scarring.
… At the end of the 20th century we are going to use this ointment again to treat the burns of workers injured in a fire at my grandfather’s factory. It’s not going to let us down.
My grandmother Augusta was born on September 14, 1903 in Poland into the family of Gershon and Libi Haitin. This is the period when recent world history begins, which leaves no place for speculation. It is the time of secrets and coded language. In 1921 Augusta Нaitin gets married and moves to Odessa. Her husband is thirty years older than her, is rich and seems reliable. After endless coups, the Russian Imperial Army under Lt. Gen. Denikin withdraws. The Red Terror follows and Odessa is a chaotic place. However, Augusta’s husband, Moses Hershkovich, strikes a deal with both the local gang leaders and Soviet authorities, and so his textile factory flourishes as he remains general manager, despite “nationalization”. He manages to pull it off with the help of his wife’s brother Joseph who serves in the local Cheka (secret police). In 1922 Augusta gives birth to a daughter, Rivekka, and, later, to a son, Nathan. However, Moses loves only his wife. He is very energetic but pathologically greedy – his own sisters nearly die of hunger and his children can have candy only on special occasions, strictly rationed.
In the summer of 1928 when bread shortages begin and the New Economic Policy is about to collapse, Moses ponders leaving the city. In the then-capital of the Transcaucasian Republic there still exists a large Jewish community.
(up until 1930s you could take Yiddish classes in the school number 101 and there existed the L. Beria House of Culture of Working Jews of Georgia; up until 1940s a Jewish amateur theatre company gave performances; in November of 1933 the National Museum of History and Ethnography of Georgian Jews opened its doors; and there still circulated a newspaper in Russian and Georgian titled “The Working Jew”).
This means the Jewish tradition and ways of living are still strong there and there’s hope that Moses will be able to carry on with his textile business. That’s the reason why in 1929 the whole family moves to Tbilisi. Moses still loves and pampers his wife, dresses her in expensive fur coats and lavishes diamonds on her, but the blonde beauty leaves her rich husband for a poor but soulful man, Ervand, an Armenian electrician. She finds happiness with him and gives him a son, Rudolph. However, Ervand mysteriously dies a year later. For many years in Tbilisi there is a rumour going around about the revenge of Moses…
Augusta struggles. She uses her mother’s recipes to make medicinal creams and ointments to treat skin diseases. She sells them or simply exchanges them for food. But she doesn’t lose her spirit.
She makes costumes and entertains all the neighbourhood children with live performances of children’s plays. During breaks everyone gets to taste her delicious home baked goods. The neighbours adore her. Her ex-husband’s relatives are fond of her as well. Even her ex-husband wants her back and promises to forgive her. Eventually he gets tired of waiting and goes on to marry an ex-ballet dancer rumoured to be Stalin’s former mistress. However, that’s a rumour nobody is going to believe.
My grandmother Rivekka is born on the same day as her mother. Augusta names her daughter after her sister who moved to London before the revolution and vanished. Now that I am writing this, there’s hope that perhaps my second cousins will read my story and learn about our connection. At school the tomboyish red-head (who obviously takes after her Stettin-born ancestor, Leiba) is nicknamed “Mendeleev’s daughter” for her intense interest in chemistry. She chooses chemistry as her vocation and enters Moscow State University in 1938. However, in 1941 she drops out and trains to become a war pilot. She is not accepted into the army but manages to become a police officer in Tbilisi and spends the war tracking down criminals. Her strong character comes in handy. As for the family tradition, she doesn’t intend to continue it. After the war she gets a job in a passport office. Just for fun and out of a strong love for chemistry she begins experimenting with mixing various lotions and potions. She rediscovers her passion, consults with scientists, tweaks her recipes.
Before she knows it, all the members of the Georgian elite and the wives of all the big shots get in line for her products. Energetic, with an aristocratic air about her, Rivekka, however, doesn’t mince words and isn’t afraid of anyone.
She doesn’t charge money for her creams. Instead she makes influential friends and attracts admirers. At first, she falls in love with a professor (of chemistry, naturally), a former count. He beguiles her, they have a daughter, Mira, together, but he is too much of a coward to leave his wife. Rivekka suffers but then meets an Armenian young man (also from a noble family) and is smitten with him.
Augusta, however, doesn’t approve of her future son-in-law – younger than her daughter, he is of questionable origin and has a daring temper to boot. She is intimidated by his strength. And, perhaps, he reminds her of her own ex-husband Moses by his ability to manage and control everything. However, distinct from Moses, Azat does care for his big family and all his numerous relatives. He can get them anything they need and organize anything for them. He’s good at making money, sometimes illegally. He gets a court record, but remains very respected. He supplies shoes to all the major theatres of the Soviet Union, among them the Bolshoi, and provides quality shoes to the wives of prominent apparatchiks…
During the Soviet period we lived quite differently from the average citizen. As children we had nannies and governesses.
Adults had “private” cooks, went to “private” tailors, hairdressers and doctors, had “private” tables reserved for them in restaurants, stayed in “private” hotels and resorts, went to “private” antique and jewellery shops, had “special” friends in the police.The only thing we had in common with others is that we worked a lot.
Then came the Perestroika, and gangsters paid my grandfather a visit, after which we moved to Moscow in a day, with nothing ”private” left. And thus we had to start all over again – by making creams.
…My mother, Libi Hershkovich, graduated from Tbilisi State Medical University with flying colours and got married to my father, a smart and handsome Armenian man, ironically also of noble origin. She worked as an ER doctor, an endocrinologist, a research doctor in the State Research Centre of Dermatology-Venerology and Cosmetology and then went on to open her own clinic. Thanks to her efforts, our family heritage is now well-known in Russia and, hopefully, will soon become known throughout the rest of the world. She is a hard worker, just like her ancestors. She is the one who preserved all the information and recipes which could be preserved. She instilled in me the love of our family’s occupation.
Sometimes I get cross at her for her obsession with work. But if not for my mother, would I ever get a chance to pass on this priceless gift to my daughter?
In First Person
I am a doctor. But when I hold in my hands these yellowed pages written in the different handwritings of my ancestors, I can’t help but feel like Alice in Wonderland – so incredible is the legacy bestowed on me. Carefully written out formulas and careless, casually scribbled personal notes on the margins. Some of these notes have dates, others don’t. Unbound diaries, missing halves of the pages. Time is merciless. Yet I am willing to reveal the mystery which I made humble attempts to unravel and which, for understandable reasons, dared not reveal those who came before me – the dear women of my family who, for more than two centuries, developed unique beauty recipes. And kept them a secret.
This almost magical story begins in an almost magical little town in the Prussian Province of Pomerania – «thesea gate» of Berlin. Green fields, ample waterbodies and an atmosphere of utter freedom — that’s what Stettin is like. Sophie Friederike Auguste of Anhalt-Zerbst is born here in 1729. She is a curious and mischievous child, fond of dares. She is friends with the boys and with an adventure-loving Jewish girl named Leiba, the local apothecary’s daughter, a wild tomboy just like herself.
In the winter of 1744 fifteen-year-old Princess Sophie (known by the nickname Fike) leaves Stettin to marry the Russian heir to the throne. She is going to become Catherine the Great. After two unsuccessful pregnancies and a complicated first labour, deprived of motherhood and finding no sympathy from her husband or his mother, Catherine like never before needs family support, which unfortunately she is lacking here in her new homeland. She needs to be with someone from her carefree past and so she decides to invite her childhood friend to St. Petersburg. As circumstances have it, the apothecary’s daughter is ready for change and happy to arrive bearing Prussian medicines to help restore Catherine’s health (back then only apothecary-made drugs could be guaranteed to be safe and of good quality).
Thus, in the spring of 1755, Leiba H., now a young widow with a new-born daughter Hannah, is brought before “the eyes of her royal highness”, the future Empress. This marks the beginning of an exciting journey into the history of our cosmetics. According to family legend, Leiba’s daughter inherits her grandfather’s passion for pharmacology. Curious and sharp, she is going to accomplish a lot in this field. Following Catherine’s example, Hannah is an avid reader from a very young age. She’s especially interested in botany. Right after ascending to the throne, Catherine the Great is going to start implementing her project of female education by opening the Smolny Institute for Noble Maidens on April 24, 1764. Meanwhile, the future Empress plays an active role in Hannah’s upbringing by guiding and encouraging her. Catherine introduces her female protégé to major scientists.
Among others, to the Doctor of Medicine, the First Doctor of the Smolny Institute, State Councilor Ivan Fedorovich Agte.
The young woman spends all her days in the Pharmaceutical Garden on Vorony Island, where she learns about rare plants and, if lucky, gets to attend lectures of famous scientists.
This garden, established by Tsar Peter the Great, provides plants for teaching botany in the capital’s medical and educational establishments. Of course, Hannah doesn’t become a doctor. Only by the end of the next century women are going to win the right to higher education. Yet she provides medical assistance to the court ladies and does a lot of medical charity work.
The “herbal paste” was developed by the founder of our dynasty. The “Tsar’s crème” was also created by her especially for the Empress and her court ladies so that they could “preserve the noble paleness of their skin.
Unfortunately, the identity of Hannah’s husband remains unknown. However, we do know that her daughter Bertha, following in her mother’s footsteps, successfully developed cosmetic products for the ladies and gentlemen of the court.
The cosmetic trends of the time were thus described by Elizaveta Yankova, an aristocratic chronicler of the time from Moscow: “In the evening, especially if there was going to be a ball, one had to use a lot of blush, some girls put kohl on their brows and white powder on their faces…”
Bertha, knowing that blushes and bleaching productscontained lead, zinc oxide, mercury, silver nitrate and other toxic substances, insisted on systematic skin care routines and careful makeup removal. She developed the deep cleansing mask, which, aside from cleansing, has aesthetic benefits – it helps fight minor blemishes and achieve smooth, even and glowing skin with a soft youthful blush.
In addition to the mask, of course, there was a need to develop a more lightweight cleansing lotion to be used on skin, recently awoken. The “Porcelain Water”, as Bertha named it, effectively removes excess sebum produced overnight and makes the skin appear even and completely matte.
The French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars of the late 18th and beginning of the 19th centuries notonly transform the financial, trade and diplomatic systems of the European countries, but also result in achanged attitude towards the Jewish community, who traditionally worked in these fields. Until this point in time Jews were usually the ones who supplied royal courts with goods and money and provided precious metals for the mint and supplies for the army.
However, times change and the Jewish community’s place in society shifts as their influence in Europe and Russia wanes. Despite the patronage of another Stettin-born royal, the wife of Pavel I, Empress Maria Feodorovna, known for founding many charitable organizations (the Royal Philanthropic Society, the Midwives ‘ Institute, the Moscow School of the Order of St Catherine for Girls, etc.), Bertha is forced to leave Russia in 1814. Since German is her inherited native language, she goes to Prussia.
… Following this – radio silence. A gap. We don’t have any printed record of Bertha’s life or the lives of two generations of her descendants. As if they never existed. We searched all the archives and examined a multitude of documents in attempts to find a single trace. Despite Russia annexing a lot of territory, its history in the 19th century was filled with riots and civil unrest. Perhaps the trace of Bertha’s family got lost in the whirlwind of these events? We almost lost hope, but then… there it was! My mother’s aunt suddenly recalled an old newspaper cut-out (she insisted that she even remembered its title: “The Economic Magazine”).
I checked, and yes, there existed such a journal, and it even published articles on skincare.
After a challenging search, we found this cut-out in one of the old photo albums. It contained unclear, scarcely legible, disconnected sentences: “The Emperor and his closest relatives on vacation in Livadiya… attracted… officers and other army officials … to seaside resorts… Unbelievable popularity among ladies… of a sun cream (to be used before or after sun exposure?) developed by a nineteen-year-old lady Haitin, whose relatives used to provide for the royal court…in the last century.”
After a challenging search, we found this cut-out in one of the old photo albums. It contained unclear, scarcely legible, disconnected sentences: “The Emperor and his closest relatives on vacation in Livadiya… attracted… officers and other army officials … to seaside resorts… Unbelievable popularity among ladies… of a sun cream (to be used before or after sun exposure?) developed by a nineteen-year-old lady Haitin, whose relatives used to provide for the royal court…in the last century.”
There’s no date, only the year – 1899. The ancient cut-out is literally falling to dust in my hands. I wish we could preserve it! My aunt promises she will.
Back to Libi Haitin. We see her in the family archive. She was born in 1880. It is highly unlikely that she was a court lady herself, but she could have been friends with someone from the royal court (physicians to the last three Russian emperors were Jewish). In any case, the link is affirmed. Which means she was the one who developed the recipe for the famous sun cream from my precious heritage.
By the end of the 19th century, being “natural” becomes fashionable. The use of white powders, blush and face powder is considered vulgar and limited to the demi-monde. The noble women want their skin to look natural, healthy, flawless, without any hyperpigmentation, redness or scars. For this purpose, a special exfoliating and skin-evening cream is developed.
Now it’s 1914. We get a glimpse of the other side of civilian life: The First World War gives rise to frightening creations – new weapons of mass destruction: chemical weapons, flame fougasse, flamethrowers. Libi Haitin creates a special rich ointment to treat burns of soldiers injured at war. It proves successful in healing even third-degree burns and preventing scarring.
… At the end of the 20th century we are going to use this ointment again to treat the burns of workers injured in a fire at my grandfather’s factory. It’s not going to let us down.
My grandmother Augusta was born on September 14, 1903 in Poland into the family of Gershon and Libi Haitin. This is the period when recent world history begins, which leaves no place for speculation. It is the time of secrets and coded language. In 1921 Augusta Нaitin gets married and moves to Odessa. Her husband is thirty years older than her, is rich and seems reliable. After endless coups, the Russian Imperial Army under Lt. Gen. Denikin withdraws. The Red Terror follows and Odessa is a chaotic place. However, Augusta’s husband, Moses Hershkovich, strikes a deal with both the local gang leaders and Soviet authorities, and so his textile factory flourishes as he remains general manager, despite “nationalization”. He manages to pull it off with the help of his wife’s brother Joseph who serves in the local Cheka (secret police). In 1922 Augusta gives birth to a daughter, Rivekka, and, later, to a son, Nathan. However, Moses loves only his wife. He is very energetic but pathologically greedy – his own sisters nearly die of hunger and his children can have candy only on special occasions, strictly rationed.
In the summer of 1928 when bread shortages begin and the New Economic Policy is about to collapse, Moses ponders leaving the city. In the then-capital of the Transcaucasian Republic there still exists a large Jewish community.
(up until 1930s you could take Yiddish classes in the school number 101 and there existed the L. Beria House of Culture of Working Jews of Georgia; up until 1940s a Jewish amateur theatre company gave performances; in November of 1933 the National Museum of History and Ethnography of Georgian Jews opened its doors; and there still circulated a newspaper in Russian and Georgian titled “The Working Jew”).
This means the Jewish tradition and ways of living are still strong there and there’s hope that Moses will be able to carry on with his textile business. That’s the reason why in 1929 the whole family moves to Tbilisi. Moses still loves and pampers his wife, dresses her in expensive fur coats and lavishes diamonds on her, but the blonde beauty leaves her rich husband for a poor but soulful man, Ervand, an Armenian electrician. She finds happiness with him and gives him a son, Rudolph. However, Ervand mysteriously dies a year later. For many years in Tbilisi there is a rumour going around about the revenge of Moses…
Augusta struggles. She uses her mother’s recipes to make medicinal creams and ointments to treat skin diseases. She sells them or simply exchanges them for food. But she doesn’t lose her spirit.
She makes costumes and entertains all the neighbourhood children with live performances of children’s plays. During breaks everyone gets to taste her delicious home baked goods. The neighbours adore her. Her ex-husband’s relatives are fond of her as well. Even her ex-husband wants her back and promises to forgive her. Eventually he gets tired of waiting and goes on to marry an ex-ballet dancer rumoured to be Stalin’s former mistress. However, that’s a rumour nobody is going to believe.
My grandmother Rivekka is born on the same day as her mother. Augusta names her daughter after her sister who moved to London before the revolution and vanished. Now that I am writing this, there’s hope that perhaps my second cousins will read my story and learn about our connection. At school the tomboyish red-head (who obviously takes after her Stettin-born ancestor, Leiba) is nicknamed “Mendeleev’s daughter” for her intense interest in chemistry. She chooses chemistry as her vocation and enters Moscow State University in 1938. However, in 1941 she drops out and trains to become a war pilot. She is not accepted into the army but manages to become a police officer in Tbilisi and spends the war tracking down criminals. Her strong character comes in handy. As for the family tradition, she doesn’t intend to continue it. After the war she gets a job in a passport office. Just for fun and out of a strong love for chemistry she begins experimenting with mixing various lotions and potions. She rediscovers her passion, consults with scientists, tweaks her recipes.
Before she knows it, all the members of the Georgian elite and the wives of all the big shots get in line for her products. Energetic, with an aristocratic air about her, Rivekka, however, doesn’t mince words and isn’t afraid of anyone.
She doesn’t charge money for her creams. Instead she makes influential friends and attracts admirers. At first, she falls in love with a professor (of chemistry, naturally), a former count. He beguiles her, they have a daughter, Mira, together, but he is too much of a coward to leave his wife. Rivekka suffers but then meets an Armenian young man (also from a noble family) and is smitten with him.
Augusta, however, doesn’t approve of her future son-in-law – younger than her daughter, he is of questionable origin and has a daring temper to boot. She is intimidated by his strength. And, perhaps, he reminds her of her own ex-husband Moses by his ability to manage and control everything. However, distinct from Moses, Azat does care for his big family and all his numerous relatives. He can get them anything they need and organize anything for them. He’s good at making money, sometimes illegally. He gets a court record, but remains very respected. He supplies shoes to all the major theatres of the Soviet Union, among them the Bolshoi, and provides quality shoes to the wives of prominent apparatchiks…
During the Soviet period we lived quite differently from the average citizen. As children we had nannies and governesses.
Adults had “private” cooks, went to “private” tailors, hairdressers and doctors, had “private” tables reserved for them in restaurants, stayed in “private” hotels and resorts, went to “private” antique and jewellery shops, had “special” friends in the police.The only thing we had in common with others is that we worked a lot.
Then came the Perestroika, and gangsters paid my grandfather a visit, after which we moved to Moscow in a day, with nothing ”private” left. And thus we had to start all over again – by making creams.
…My mother, Libi Hershkovich, graduated from Tbilisi State Medical University with flying colours and got married to my father, a smart and handsome Armenian man, ironically also of noble origin. She worked as an ER doctor, an endocrinologist, a research doctor in the State Research Centre of Dermatology-Venerology and Cosmetology and then went on to open her own clinic. Thanks to her efforts, our family heritage is now well-known in Russia and, hopefully, will soon become known throughout the rest of the world. She is a hard worker, just like her ancestors. She is the one who preserved all the information and recipes which could be preserved. She instilled in me the love of our family’s occupation.
Sometimes I get cross at her for her obsession with work. But if not for my mother, would I ever get a chance to pass on this priceless gift to my daughter?
