The Dressmakers of Auschwitz: The True Story of the Women Who Sewed to Survive

Prior to World War II, the textile industry was dominated by Jewish businesses, whose employees proved the most skilled. Small shops selling notions, tools, and fabric for the at-home sewer were common; those who could afford to took advantage of their town’s local dressmaker.

Paris was the ultimate heart of fashion, drawing seamstresses from throughout Europe who sought to learn of the latest styles or establish connections with industry leaders. However, Prague had established itself as a leader of the fashion industry, as its couture houses provided the latest styles for celebrities and were promoted by fashion magazines such as Eva. For these reasons, Marta Fuchs, employed in a Bratislava salon, aspired to become a dressmaker in the Czech capital—an opportunity she would never receive.

Hunya Storch secured an apprenticeship in Leipzig and went on to open her own salon. A skilled dressmaker, she created her own patterns and could stylishly dress women of all kinds. Despite her loyal customer base, in 1936 Hunya quit her salon, unable to advertise her services as she did not have a work visa. She secured work in the homes of her clients and later—after a brief return to her hometown—entered a marriage of convenience that granted her a German work permit.

Meanwhile, the fashion industry was a target of German propaganda, which set out to distinguish Germany from Paris and to solidify domestic roles for women. Seizing control of the clothing industry was an essential “goal that would be achieved through blackmail, threats, sanctions, boycotts, extortion, and forced liquidations” (44). A national boycott of Jewish businesses began on April 1, 1933, but was short-lived. Soon, the ADEFA (Federation of German-Aryan Manufacturers of the Clothing Industry) was established. Clothing marked with this label was “untainted by Jewish hands” but poorly made (49).

November 9 and 10, 1938, brought overt violence against Jews in Germany and Austria: Businesses and properties were graffitied, damaged, or looted; synagogues were burned; and people beaten to death. It was estimated that 6,000 to 7,000 Jewish businesses were victims of this event, which became known as Kristallnacht (“Night of the Broken Glass”). Joseph Goebbels would later brag of the valuable clothing and furs looted during the violence.

Hunya Storch made plans to escape Germany. In Bratislava, Irene Reichenberg also faced the dilemma of how to protect herself.

By the spring of 1939, the nation of Czechoslovakia was dissolved—controlled now by Germany, Poland, and Hungary—and its Jewish population faced increasing harassment and restrictions. Quickly, Slovakia declared independence as a Nazi client-state and enacted rigorous control of Jews; in September 1941, the government passed laws requiring Jews to wear the yellow Star of David. The government also sought to profit from Jewish wealth, which funded German war efforts: “Wehrmacht troops were actively encouraged to consider each successive conquest as a glorified shopping spree” (59). Soldiers bought “furs, perfume, shoes, gloves” (60), devaluing local currency as German money flooded the market. Occupied nations in eastern Europe were subject to blatant theft of goods. Back in Germany, furs and winter clothing were confiscated from Jews to clothe soldiers.

A key method of dispossessing Jews involved “Aryan” managers taking over businesses through forced sales. Yet dressmaking appeared one of the few viable avenues for Bratislava girls like Irene Reichenberg, and she and others would ultimately provide valuable slave labor for Nazi Germany. For Hunya Volkmann, employment in the fur industry provided potentially lifesaving connections. Forced laborers like Hunya were needed to churn out Wehrmacht uniforms. Factory owners—such as Hans Biebow’s Łódź ghetto—were unscrupulous and unapologetic regarding the Jewish labor that produced the so-called “Jewish-free” garments.

Nazi racism extended to the Polish people, who were to be subjected to similar torments as Jews. Non-Jewish Poles therefore had incentive to become antisemitic in hopes of winning Nazi favor.