Thank you to the Jewish Writers’ Festival in Sydney who will be discussing this book on Zoom at 8 PM Thurs 14th October 2021.
![]()
Amid the horror of the Holocaust, a select group of hand-picked Jewish women and girls, were segregated from their peers in Auschwitz. They set up in a dedicated workshop, to design, cut and sew beautiful fashions for elite wives of Nazi camp officers. The fashion workshop, the Upper Tailoring Studio, was soon very popular. The dressmakers produced high-quality garments for SS social functions in Auschwitz, and for ladies from the Nazi upper crust. The Studio’s fame spread and even classy Berlin women were soon waiting months for an Auschwitz outfit. When the seamstresses had more work than they could handle, the SS wives occasionally rewarded them with a food parcel.
In London, author Lucy Adlington was browsing through archive documents from the 1930s and 1940s, to learn about what it was like for women during the war. She came across a reference to a fashion salon in Auschwitz, but originally with very little information. Initially the historian only had a list of nicknames names of the seamstresses: Irene, Renee, Bracha, Hunya, Mimi etc and trying to find women’s real names in records was tricky. Furthermore survivors may have changed their names later, on marriage.
In looking for information about the former dressmakers, Adlington discovered inspiring stories of resistance and survival, published in Sept 2021 as The Dressmakers of Auschwitz: The True Story of the Women Who Sewed to Survive. Drawing on diverse sources, including interviews with the very last surviving seamstress, her book followed the fates of these brave women whose bonds of family and friendship helped them endure persecution.
Adlington wrote about the context of Nazi policies for exploitation. If Jews were vermin, she asked, how did Nazis accept the handicraft of the seamstresses? The Nazis clearly put far more value on Jewish goods than they did on Jewish lives, and high-ranking Nazi officials and their families were thrilled to wear clothes created by the vermin. Thousands of people were already forced to work in workshops set up in other prison camps, but this workshop was not for making or mending military uniforms. Instead it was created purely for an elite who satisfied their love of fashion in the middle of Nazi Hell.
![]()
Rudolph and Hedwig Hoess and their children
when their last baby was born in Auschwitz in 1943
![]()
Main death camps, from Knowitall.org
sisters Berta and Katka Kohút,
1941 and 2013
Times of Israel
Amid the horror of the Holocaust, a select group of hand-picked Jewish women and girls, were segregated from their peers in Auschwitz. They set up in a dedicated workshop, to design, cut and sew beautiful fashions for elite wives of Nazi camp officers. The fashion workshop, the Upper Tailoring Studio, was soon very popular. The dressmakers produced high-quality garments for SS social functions in Auschwitz, and for ladies from the Nazi upper crust. The Studio’s fame spread and even classy Berlin women were soon waiting months for an Auschwitz outfit. When the seamstresses had more work than they could handle, the SS wives occasionally rewarded them with a food parcel.
In London, author Lucy Adlington was browsing through archive documents from the 1930s and 1940s, to learn about what it was like for women during the war. She came across a reference to a fashion salon in Auschwitz, but originally with very little information. Initially the historian only had a list of nicknames names of the seamstresses: Irene, Renee, Bracha, Hunya, Mimi etc and trying to find women’s real names in records was tricky. Furthermore survivors may have changed their names later, on marriage.
In looking for information about the former dressmakers, Adlington discovered inspiring stories of resistance and survival, published in Sept 2021 as The Dressmakers of Auschwitz: The True Story of the Women Who Sewed to Survive. Drawing on diverse sources, including interviews with the very last surviving seamstress, her book followed the fates of these brave women whose bonds of family and friendship helped them endure persecution.
Adlington wrote about the context of Nazi policies for exploitation. If Jews were vermin, she asked, how did Nazis accept the handicraft of the seamstresses? The Nazis clearly put far more value on Jewish goods than they did on Jewish lives, and high-ranking Nazi officials and their families were thrilled to wear clothes created by the vermin. Thousands of people were already forced to work in workshops set up in other prison camps, but this workshop was not for making or mending military uniforms. Instead it was created purely for an elite who satisfied their love of fashion in the middle of Nazi Hell.
when their last baby was born in Auschwitz in 1943
Times of Israel
![]()
It started when Hedwig Hoess, wife of terrifying camp commandant Rudolph Hoess, asked her husband for a prisoner to mind the children and to sew. After bringing a Slovak Jewish woman Marta Fuchs into her home, Hoess started receiving requests from other envious SS wives. Marta Fuchs recruited more seamstresses, and sewing activities were moved to a workshop in an administration site. The Nazis had always understood the power of clothes, from classy uniforms to high fashion. So even Magda Goebbels, wife of Hitler’s propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, happily wore these Jewish creations. In fact the Jews were actively helped; they were given access to the massive stockpile of plundered possessions taken from the Jews on arrival at the camp.
The seamstresses gathered materials
from the clothes plundered from newly arrived prisoners
Express
Marta Fuchs became the head seamstress, wanting to save as many women as possible in her haven. So yes, they had weekly washes, they had meaningful work and their food rations were safely located. Most importantly they didn’t have to fear selections for gas chambers.
Additionally some seamstresses were quietly helping underground resistance movements by using their “privileged” positions to communicate with the outside. They collected and distributed medicines, and stole whatever they could. They had occasional access to newspapers and to radios, so they knew when the Allies had invaded France. Plus they wanted to survive and provide witness to Nazi atrocities.
As soon as Berta Kohút could, she brought her sister Katka in. In 1.5 years of the workshop operating, c40 Slovak Jewish women professionally sewed gowns and cocktail dresses for Nazi wives. When the Red Army was approaching Auschwitz to liberate survivors, the workshop prisoners prepared to evacuate; they organised extra clothing for the coming Death March to Ravensbrück in NE Germany, in freezing Jan.
Additionally some seamstresses were quietly helping underground resistance movements by using their “privileged” positions to communicate with the outside. They collected and distributed medicines, and stole whatever they could. They had occasional access to newspapers and to radios, so they knew when the Allies had invaded France. Plus they wanted to survive and provide witness to Nazi atrocities.
As soon as Berta Kohút could, she brought her sister Katka in. In 1.5 years of the workshop operating, c40 Slovak Jewish women professionally sewed gowns and cocktail dresses for Nazi wives. When the Red Army was approaching Auschwitz to liberate survivors, the workshop prisoners prepared to evacuate; they organised extra clothing for the coming Death March to Ravensbrück in NE Germany, in freezing Jan.
It was a very long march from Auschwitz to Ravensbruck
Later in the U.S Berta had learned how to use a computer. And after Berta’s death in 2021, her son Tom Areton corresponded with Lucy Adlington. Berta did not live to see the book published, but she knew this valuable testament to the seamstresses was coming, in 15 languages!
While Adlington was able to speak to other dressmakers families for her book, she wasn’t able to find any trace of the outfits that were tailored in WW2. However she did find an order book in the Workshop that registered the names of the highest Nazis in Berlin, showing which Berliners were ordering their clothes from Auschwitz.
![]()
Lucy Adlington's book
In 2017 Adlington re-imagined these women in a young adult novel called The Red Ribbon. Her fictional account of the dressmakers told the story of four young women who stitched clothes at the dress-shop at the Auschwitz camp in order to survive. When this novel was published, people contacted the author to help identify the real women.
Adlington could then speak to families of the real Auschwitz dressmakers and in 2019 she met a surviving seamstress in San Francisco, 98 year old Berta Kohut. A great connection! Berta remembered names, events and details. Using the skills learned in her dad’s tailor shop, Kohút excelled as a seamstress. Some of the women did not arrive with the skills & experience, but the group accepted them in solidarity.
Adlington could then speak to families of the real Auschwitz dressmakers and in 2019 she met a surviving seamstress in San Francisco, 98 year old Berta Kohut. A great connection! Berta remembered names, events and details. Using the skills learned in her dad’s tailor shop, Kohút excelled as a seamstress. Some of the women did not arrive with the skills & experience, but the group accepted them in solidarity.
Later in the U.S Berta had learned how to use a computer. And after Berta’s death in 2021, her son Tom Areton corresponded with Lucy Adlington. Berta did not live to see the book published, but she knew this valuable testament to the seamstresses was coming, in 15 languages!
While Adlington was able to speak to other dressmakers families for her book, she wasn’t able to find any trace of the outfits that were tailored in WW2. However she did find an order book in the Workshop that registered the names of the highest Nazis in Berlin, showing which Berliners were ordering their clothes from Auschwitz.
