2 journalers for this copy...
Veronica Webb, Naomi Campbell, Kate Moss - all the supermodels have caught the writing bug, usually to unimpressive effect. Not so, however, with Pantaeva. Born a Buryat Eskimo in the Siberian city of Ulan Ude, her delightful, moving and at times harrowing saga of her struggle to make it as a fashion model in the West rarely descends into falseness or cliche.
Irina came of age with a rich heritage of Shamanistic spirituality that was often at odds with the world around her - a world of poverty because her parents refused to join the Communist party, and a world in which individuality was stifled. She was the only Buryat among Russians in her class, where her people's hero Genghis Khan was vilified and Lenin revered. As a girl, she began to associate the simple act of getting dressed every day with freedom of self-expression, a freedom that almost landed her in a juvenile home.
"In the poetic, mystical Siberian Dream, [Pantaeva] recounts the journey of an Eskimo girl for whom fashion became an underground railroad to freedom...[a] dynamite book." (San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle)
"Irina Pantaeva writes as beautifully as she is stunningly beautiful, and her saga of moving from the impossible poverty of Soviet Siberia to the delicious freedoms of the fashion capitals of the world is not only inspiring, but also a great read." -- Michael Gross, author of Model
After finishing the book, I couldn't help googling more of her life and pictures. I am glad that she and Roland has been happily married for over 30 years with two children.
This book is reserved for either the Native bookbox or the Memoir book box.
CONTROLLED RELEASE NOTES:
WILD RELEASE NOTES:
"Did you carve this?"
Tas did not turn. "Yes," he said, reluctantly. "I have to leave it."
"But, Tas, why?"
Tas squared his shoulders as though firming some resolve. But still he did not turn. "Because the shepherd said that it could only be used once. Thats why I can't get the pipe to play that song-or any song. I've used the magic." He took a deep breath and went on. "And he said that once I found the magic I had the pass the pipe on." he paused and then he did turn, a scamp's humor in his long brown eyes. "It's going to be a long winter. I'm going to leave it here for someone else to find." "Snowsong" by Nancy Varian Berberick
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