Last year I had a chance to be on the backstage of fashion week for the first time. There is an interesting moment in Russia — people try to show how good they are. The same thing happens with Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week in Moscow — talented designers, beautiful models, millions of posts on Instagram about this event — all this creates a sense of the main bohemian community.
Approximately, this is what I expected last year: high and thin models, excellent level of organization, I thought that I would feel the atmosphere of luxury. However, my expectations and reality did not coincide with each other.
Backstage was represented by a bunch of small rooms, divided from each other by cheap plastic, it meant if one wall fell, then all the others too. Models were eating bananas in a hurry , while make-up artists were working with their faces and other people were busy with their hair; half-naked girls ran from room to room searching for the right size of the shoes, because they had forgotten their ones. During the first 20 minutes I just stood and thought that my world was falling apart, and the world of fashion had been mocking me for a long time.
After a little checkup I found this discrepancy rather interesting and I concentrated on the “trashy” things which were usually hidden from curious eyes.
When I was standing and taking photographs of the half-eaten piece of the cake near the ashtray, one designer began to mock me in public, saying that I did not look like a real photographer, if I was interested in the ashtray but not in shooting his models. It took me several seconds to think about his words, and I understood that I had two ways: to agree with him and just finish the action of my humiliation or simply continue doing what I liked despite the inconvenience. I chose the second option. Perhaps it was a turning point in my awareness of myself as a photographer — I do not think that there are people whose art is pleasing to everyone.
