My parent’s tailor shop at the old house in Moscow, where unknowingly I took my first design classes, was always full of elegant ladies. My mother was a master of graceful chiffon gowns and velvet opera coats. She had a passion for all things new and her personal style would draw women from all over the city to get refreshing looks by Tatiana.
My father and I were two humble worshipers of her greatness. He was a traditional European tailor, as well as a devoted guardian of relics and tails of the old world. I would pull up my little chair right next to him, watching pieces of expensive wool being stitched together to become jackets, skirts and dresses. Once in a while I was given a small project and worked very seriously for a four-year-old to master hand stitches to perfection, so I could receive his approval, but moistly Hers!!! I would sit quietly under the cutting table, surrounded by a dozen of dolls, waiting for a new swatch of fabric magically land into my hands. Every shred and scrap would find its place in an everlasting collection of formal gowns for all of my plastic princesses.
As time ticked on, imperatives changed, the Beatles invaded my world with “Help”, “Yesterday”, bellbottoms and Nehru jackets. I was twelve at the time but felt older and was already converted into the forbidden religion of Twiggy. I needed to change my look. Day and night, whenever I could, I worked on my rebel collection, one piece at the time. All the bits of knowledge, patternmaking, tailoring, and styling smoothly came together and produced daring masterpieces, short and tight, politically incorrect — and absolutely perfect on me.
My skills were appreciated, clients were happy to share me with their friends, so I had to employ a little crew to help. It was fun, paid the bills and didn’t stop me from other interests, mostly art. I took classes in academic drawing, painting and graphic design, it served me well, allowing me to do free lance projects.
Though I spent my youth in Russia, trying to achieve perfection in all my endeavors, hardship of life and heartbreaking collisions put me on a road all the way to the other side of a globe. I brought with me the only things, which I could carry: my mother’s style, my father’s craft, a two-year-old boy and hope.
Today New York is my home and place of business. My fashion atelier, more than two decades in the making, attracts clients who value perfection and exquisite style. My brand Avolinad is getting ready to introduce its first ready to wear collection, which draws its inspiration from the great history of New York. The collection blends functionality with a city-on-edge modern twist.