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

Bracha was one of the first female prisoners to be detained at Auschwitz. Her train was not immediately processed, so occupants spent their first night in an empty barracks-like building.

The chapter’s title, taken from a quote by Hunya Volkmann, is a scathing commentary on the horrors that greeted prisoners—particularly women. The forced undressing was especially humiliating for young Jewish women who valued propriety and modesty. Guards also cut off each woman’s hair, which would later be used for everything from spun yarn to mend socks to matted patches for waterproofing torpedoes.

The delousing process was particularly shocking. Women entered the “saunas” nude and clothing was decontaminated separately—all an attempt to stifle the typhus outbreaks caused by lice infestations at the camp. Camp uniforms proved inadequate at best; shoes were typically mismatched and mis-sized. Some prisoners, like Irena, Bracha, and Marta, received military clothing. Prisoners quickly modified their clothing as best they could: letting down hems, taking in waists, repairing tears, etc. Theft was a constant threat and prisoners learned to guard what little clothing and food they had.

The prisoners’ attire was in sharp contrast to the smart and carefully designed uniforms of the camp guards and SS officers. This clothing established a hierarchy that further dehumanized Jews and elevated Nazi officials: “The fact that guards and inmates would all look the same when naked was irrelevant: clothes made the difference” (133).

The chapter closes by reiterating the terrible transformation the women prisoners underwent: “In the snowy end days of winter 1942, several thousand blossoming, healthy young women were transformed into unrecognizable, trembling creatures, almost ageless and sexless” (136).

The young women quickly formed a network of support, encouraging and looking out for one another’s well-being. Initially, they worked as ordinary laborers—digging ditches, demolishing Polish houses, and enduring endless hours of physical pain. Bracha stove to remain optimistic, having heard rumors that opportunities for sewing work existed at the camp’s SS Administration building. The elite Upper Tailoring Studio would indeed become a coveted work assignment, while sewing work in a factory—though just as demanding as outdoor work—at least provided prisoners with respite from the elements. A weaving squad also afforded an escape from the most physically demanding tasks.

Bracha and others were soon assigned to Kanada: centers where inmate luggage was sorted and catalogued. Special workers were trained to search for gold and money hidden in clothing. Clothing was redistributed to German citizens and soldiers. At times, inmates could pilfer food hidden in luggage. Underwear, handkerchiefs, soap, toothpaste, and medicine were particularly valuable, not only in and of themselves, but as barter or bribes. One of the Kanada complexes sorted the clothing from the gas chamber victims. This was how many of the young woman learned of their family members’ deaths—by recognizing their clothing.

Late 1942 brought several typhus outbreaks and mass delousing. Irene’s sister, Jolli, would die of typhus. Prisoners lived in constant fear of failing selection—the evaluation that sent sick, injured, or otherwise “incapable” inmates to the gas chamber. Bracha’s sister, Katka, managed to avoid this fate despite an injured leg. Some prisoners opted for suicide by the electric fence surrounding the camp. Irene, infected with a fever, contemplated this escape, but went on to survive a pill overdose. Supported by her friends, Irene and others were about to experience a change in their fate.