- Heti Fortepan 51.
- 2022. June 8.
The Fashion of Resistance
Blue Jeans Acid Washed in the Bathtub, Haversacks, and “Alföldi” Slippers—Anything but Mass-Produced Items!
Fashion has been a favorite topic of discussion even back in Socialist times when bold dreams met a rather modest reality and modest means compared to the present or to the Western world. However, in spite of the fact that there was hardly anything to buy, or perhaps because of it, we are sometimes pleasantly surprised by the stylish and original outfits of the people in the photos taken in the years of shortage economy.
Whatever could be found on the shelves of department stores in late socialism, people usually disliked it. Even when there were a few well-made and nice items—a pair of shoes, a coat, a shirt or a blouse—people disliked them anyway because they were sold by the state department store, because they were boring by default, and because there was a lack of choice. Those more informed who knew more or less what was hip from Western movies and magazines (only more or less, as most Western movies were shown in Hungarian movie theaters after a few years’ delay), disliked them even more. Not to mention the people who had some recollections of the style and the well-made, quality clothing items of their parents and grandparents.
However, browsing the Fortepan archive, we do not see uniformly or homogeneously dressed crowds of people. One can even get lost in some of the photos because of the interesting clothes, the clever details, or the interesting accessories. Those who disliked store-bought, mass-produced clothing but wanted to dress well, had items custom-made—this was still the time of good old seamstresses, tailors, and shoemakers. Another solution was to knit and crochet for oneself, or to know which “friendly” country to visit in order to buy a better version. We sat down with designer Péter Klimo who had worked as a costume designer, stylist, and fashion designer in the old days, to talk about the trends young people followed and how and where these were to be found. He was also the source for many of the photo captions in this article.
“We saw some tourists from abroad in Budapest and at Lake Balaton, and sometimes we travelled too; you did not have to go very far to get a taste of the Western feeling: Yugoslavia offered a lot of pleasant surprises back then,” Péter Klimo begins. “Every now and then we could lay our hands on a copy of magazines like Bravo or Interview, and we heard about the musical Hair, as well.”
“In the West, young people dressing alternatively rebelled against the disingenuous/hypocrite bourgeois way of life. In Hungary, too, there was an obvious sense of social criticism if someone did not want or refused to dress in the uniform pieces sold at the clothing sections of department stores like Verseny or Corvin Áruház, to fade into the greyness of everyday life in socialism.” The newspapers indeed wrote in a horrified tone about the young men wearing cowboy jeans and leather slippers, and their thick black shags or long hair held down by a ribbon “like an Indian lady’s.”
1962. #209171 Photo: Fortepan / FŐFOTÓ
The department store Gólya on the corner of Király (Majakovszkij) Street and Nagymező Street in around 1975. It was the largest clothing store of the BÁV auctioning and pawn credit company, where people could buy and sell second-hand clothing, and it had a habitual clientele. #130831 Photo: Fortepan / András Bokor
One of these young men, an “especially shaggy and puzzling looking hitchhiker” was interviewed in 1972 in a TV show called My Channel. The young man had a clever comeback at one of the questions about his appearance. According to him, a striking look is nothing more than a hobby like collecting stamps. And there were many people who could not refrain from their hobby or passion, even though an out-of-the-ordinary appearance was punished in school by a warning letter from the head teacher, or by ID checks by the police, who could also make young men remove their earrings right away if they wanted to.
According to Péter, the Ecseri flea market was an important destination for young people dressing alternatively. At the time when all the shirts you could buy was made out of nylon—for the more adventurous, colorful ones with patterns, for the more moderate, monochrome ones—only at Ecseri could you get to buy items made of natural materials like cotton and poplin. Those most in-demand were the antique ones with embroidered initials. A decent intellectual would exclusively wear white.
“The boxy canvas suits of the 1950s were sought after, too. In the 1980s, the renowned avantgarde fashion designer Tamás Király recreated these models in angin (a ticking stripe fabric used to cover throw pillows or matresses), and sold them with huge success in his boutique, New Art Studio, on Petőfi Sándor Street.”
Different types of work uniforms were also fashionable. Until the 1950s, extremely simple and practical working clothes were preferred. A few decades later, when “dress codes” became far less strict, the more adventurous youngsters started to add the old working clothes models to their wardrobes. “The people wearing these boxy and baggy items signaled to the world this way that they were dressing according to their own fashion rules, and that they did not want to follow the “official” fashion trends. They picked up blue dungarees and white medical scrub pants (usually dyed another color at home) at industrial and occupational uniform stores.”
“Shoes were a tough problem. One could somehow sew or make someone sew a dress or shirt for them according to their taste, but not a shoe… At the Ecseri flea market, one could buy old leather shoes, real handmade ones with iron heels from an old style called ‘Budapester’. When you arrived somewhere wearing one, everyone would look up, as the leather squeaked and the iron clacked on the stone floor at each step. Rumor had it that it was worth wearing a pair of these shoes on a trip to the West as one could sell them for a really good price there.”
Although earlier, sneakers were mere accessories at gym classes at school, they slowly transformed into streetwear in alternative circles. While a 1952 article in the newspaper Vas népe disapproved of sportsmen and women wearing training pants and shoes on the street before and after training, in 1974, another magazine, Magyar Ifjúság stated that sneakers or training shoes had become a streetwear item and therefore shoe factories would have to adjust to the new trend. But first, they would have to learn the opinion of the youth, so members of the Youth Fashion Committee would attend summer camps and ask around. (The committee was created in 1970 in order to advance modern, practical, and culturally appropriate clothing for the youth.)
“Alföldi” slippers—a handmade pair of slippers manufactured by the Alföldi shoe company—would become a cult item a few years later. Its success was due not only to being comfortable but also to the switch of functions. The young people rebelling against the older generation most probably liked the fact that they were often asked: “Why are you wearing slippers on the street?”
The appearance of the first blue jeans in Budapest was also related to the Ecseri flea market: such goods arrived only there in the beginning and were sold at exorbitant prices. In 1978, Hungary started to produce jeans, too, under the label Trapper. At around the same time, the clothing factory “Május 1” (May the 1st) was contracted by Levi’s to produce jeans for the international label at a plant based in Marcali.
The “West” public beach in Balatonföldvár in 1964. #139011 Photo: Fortepan / Zoltán Szalay
1981. #47030 Photo: Fortepan / Tamás Urbán
A photo from a series by photojournalist Tamás Urbán on the everyday life of Ferenc Deák “Pillangó” (Butterfly), whom he was mentoring, from the second half of the 1980s. #213756 Photo: Fortepan / Tamás Urbán
On the stairs of one of the wharfs of Budapest. #22986 Photo: Fortepan
And then came all the creative home or DIY solutions. Péter remembers well the denim hats and long coats sewn and tailored out of blue jeans that have long gone out of fashion since. People tried different methods to achieve an acid-washed look of their jeans at home, using sandstones, sand, hard brushes—while sitting in the bathtub in jeans… And there were times when one had to tighten their jeans so much in order to be fashionable that it was impossible to get them off without unsewing them in the evening, only to sew the legs tight again in the morning after getting them on.
There was also a folk trend. The efforts of intellectuals to preserve folk culture and heritage had an impact on the way people dressed, too. In the 1970s, not only pitchers (bokály) and woven fabrics were taken home by the city dwellers from trips to the countryside or Transylvania but traditional leather/fur vests (bekecs), scarves, and hats. These garments were not part of the expected outfit of the socialist person; the look of the ones who wore such things was considered “alternative.” After a while, the socialist industry decided to keep up with the demand and started to propagate through advertisements that folk art should appear in every home.
“Dying turned out to be a lucrative business. Boutiques and shops would open from the 1970s on and their owners tried their best to provide exclusive goods for their customers—of course, things with a low manufacturing cost. During high school, I had a side gig, dyeing for boutique owners. I have dyed hundreds of gauze garments at home, in the bathtub, to the greatest pleasure of my family members. Aniline dyes came as powders and turned the most mundane piece of clothing into an eccentric, hot, and colorful piece.”
“I remember another business that turned out to be a great hit,” recalls Péter laughing. “That was already in the 1980s though. I offered to one of the hip boutiques on Váci Street that I would create T-shirts with graffiti for them—that was the most important style at the time. I drew different kinds of things by hand with acrylic paint markers, stencils, and paint sprays brought by other people from abroad at my request, first on white, later, on dyed, pastel-color T-shirts. They became popular and the boutique sold a hundred of them every Saturday morning. It became even more popular when we decided to add the label “Made in Hungary” next to my squiggles. It became a hit among the tourists so quickly that soon I could buy my first car, a 6-year-old, used Dacia…”
Newspapers and magazines were also full of great ideas about how to create at home, with our own hands, a cap or a sailor hat. The more adventurous ones tried their hands at turning a pair of sneakers into sandals or transforming their rubber boots—cutting the calfs in different ways, adding ornaments, or painting them—especially if they could lay their hands on a pair that was colored.
Although it was not an actual choice for them, those who could not fit into the regular sizes, because they were too tall, corpulent, or simply out of the standard in some way, also showed a great level of creativity. The Ministry of Interior Commerce and the advertisements suggested that these people turn to the Extra Department Store on Rákóczi Way, but the more seasoned ones knew that they would be better off transforming their clothes themselves or turning to the few available individual professionals for help. Some of them got on the train and traveled to the GDR to buy a nice pair of women’s shoes in an extra size. Hungarian customs officers did not even blink at the sight of a tourist lady with a big sized foot arriving at the border carrying two or three shoe boxes.
Text: Lukács Zsolt | Photo editor: Virágvölgyi István | English translation: Nóra Vörös [The original article was published in Hungarian]
The Weekly Fortepan blog is a collaboration between Fortepan and the Capa Center. The original Hungarian article can be found at https://hetifortepan.capacenter.hu/en/alternative-fashion
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