Multiple Teen Lolitas
🛑 ALL INFORMATION CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻
Multiple Teen Lolitas
Новосибирск красавицы Сибири
Novosibirsk’s Siberian Beauties
Маяк засекреченная ядерная катастрофа
Mayak: The Secret Nuclear Catastrophe
Таргиз поликлиника на рельсах
Targiz: A Hospital on Rails
Anna Yuzhakova takes her laptop computer with her to the restaurant car. She wants to show her international visitor the many charms of Siberian beauties. They are the result, she says, of years of mixed marriages by citizens from different republics of the former Soviet Union.
Anna is a scout. She discovers new talents for the Noah Models agency in St. Petersburg.
She is herself a former model. Four times a year she crosses her native region by train searching for the next top models, the ones who will one day strut the catwalks of Paris or New York.
Her travelling companion, Stephane Hababou, watches the photos of would-be models scroll across the screen. He’s also a scout. He represents the prestigious Marilyn agency in Paris.
It’s his first trip to Siberia. Hababou says it’s the best way for him to find new prospects ahead of his competition.
There’s not a moment to waste. Anna and Stephane stop in every large city of the region, holding a casting call that is open to all.
About 50 teen girls in black undergarments and stiletto heels greet Anna and Stephane at every stop. Some move nervously. Others proudly show off their curves.
The presence of this visitor from Paris ramps up the pressure. Everyone knows Hababou holds the key to a possible career abroad. It’s an opportunity to follow both an American and French dream, a chance to escape the daily drudgery of life in Siberia.
Anna invites Marina Korotkova to step forward. The 17-year-old barely has the time to take two steps before a cutting remark welcomes her into the world of modelling, even if pronounced under the guise of humour. “Marina is a little overweight.” At 93 centimetres, her hips are too wide. The visitors still take a few photos and recommend she go on a diet.
Russia’s largest modelling school is in Novosibirsk. It’s a unique breeding ground for girls who start training as early as age 10 or 12. They learn fashion photography techniques and how to sway their hips on a catwalk.
Fifteen-year-old Kristina Churina, a recent graduate, catches Stephane Hababou’s eye. If she loses a little weight, she could end up in Paris within the year, modeling the creations of top designers.
But few are chosen. Anna selects about 30 young women during each of her Siberian scouting trips. Only a fraction of them will ever end up with real modelling careers.
To be ready to seize the opportunity if presented with it, Kristina has been taking intensive English courses. She also has a plan B. She’s studying tourism and hopes to one day manage a large hotel.
Anna Yuzhakova takes her laptop computer with her to the restaurant car. She wants to show her international visitor the many charms of Siberian beauties. They are the result, she says, of years of mixed marriages by citizens from different republics of the former Soviet Union.
Anna is a scout. She discovers new talents for the Noah Models agency in St. Petersburg.
She is herself a former model. Four times a year she crosses her native region by train searching for the next top models, the ones who will one day strut the catwalks of Paris or New York.
Her travelling companion, Stephane Hababou, watches the photos of would-be models scroll across the screen. He’s also a scout. He represents the prestigious Marilyn agency in Paris.
It’s his first trip to Siberia. Hababou says it’s the best way for him to find new prospects ahead of his competition.
There’s not a moment to waste. Anna and Stephane stop in every large city of the region, holding a casting call that is open to all.
About 50 teen girls in black undergarments and stiletto heels greet Anna and Stephane at every stop. Some move nervously. Others proudly show off their curves.
The presence of this visitor from Paris ramps up the pressure. Everyone knows Hababou holds the key to a possible career abroad. It’s an opportunity to follow both an American and French dream, a chance to escape the daily drudgery of life in Siberia.
Anna invites Marina Korotkova to step forward. The 17-year-old barely has the time to take two steps before a cutting remark welcomes her into the world of modelling, even if pronounced under the guise of humour. “Marina is a little overweight.” At 93 centimetres, her hips are too wide. The visitors still take a few photos and recommend she go on a diet.
Russia’s largest modelling school is in Novosibirsk. It’s a unique breeding ground for girls who start training as early as age 10 or 12. They learn fashion photography techniques and how to sway their hips on a catwalk.
Fifteen-year-old Kristina Churina, a recent graduate, catches Stephane Hababou’s eye. If she loses a little weight, she could end up in Paris within the year, modeling the creations of top designers.
But few are chosen. Anna selects about 30 young women during each of her Siberian scouting trips. Only a fraction of them will ever end up with real modelling careers.
To be ready to seize the opportunity if presented with it, Kristina has been taking intensive English courses. She also has a plan B. She’s studying tourism and hopes to one day manage a large hotel.
Siberia is known around the world for its frigid temperatures. But in the world of fashion, the region is famous for being home to the most beautiful women in the world.
The measuring tape is king. Minimum height: 172 centimetres (5 feet, 6 inches). Maximum hips: 90 centimetres (35.4 inches).
Casting calls are open to all and attract about 60 hopeful young women every time they are held.
The measuring tape is unforgiving. With hips measuring 93 centimetres (36.6 inches), Marina Korotkova is considered “a little fat.”
Stephane Hababou, from the Marilyn agency in Paris, has come to Siberia to find the most promising beauties before his rivals do.
Anna Yuzhakova (centre), herself a former model, visits Siberia four times a year on behalf of the Noah modeling agency in St. Petersburg.
Anna discovers 30 to 40 fresh and interesting faces every month.
Anastasia Akhmameteva catches the eye of Stephane Hababou. Her ticket to Paris is within reach.
For the ones left behind, the rejection is often brutal.
15-year-old Kristina Churina just graduated from Novosibirsk’s modelling school and has caught the attention of the Paris agency.
But Stephane Hababou hesitates about Kristina: “If she loses weight, we’ll see see how she changes.”
Siberia is considered a modelling reservoir, thanks to ethnic mixing.
A little powder, and barely pubescent girls turn into femmes fatales.
A fashion show after the casting call allows scouts to observe the models in real conditions.
For many young women from small villages, modelling offers a chance to travel and earn a lot of money.
Little women
Mums say they boost self-esteem. Critics say they sexualise kids. We visit the bling-filled frontline of children's beauty pageants.
WORDS Melissa Fyfe
PHOTOS Tim Bauer
VIDEO Tim Young
DESIGN Mark Stehle
DEVELOPMENT Nathanael Scott
MULTIMEDIA EDITOR Felicity Lewis
T hey meet in secret to avoid the protesters, the people they call “the haters”. The haters accuse them of child abuse and want their activities banned. So this event, run on a recent Saturday at Melbourne’s Best Western Airport Motel & Convention Centre, is not advertised to the public. You can’t buy a ticket or find details on the internet. And by 9.10am, the day is well underway in Room 25.
Room 25 Indianna with her mother, Melita Swift, and Melita's fiance, Guy Crane.
Inside this room is a beautiful, freckle-nosed five-year-old named Indianna Swift. Indianna, relaxed and smiling, is still in her nightwear – a pink onesie – but her hair looks ready for the red carpet. “That’s a wiglet,” says her mother Melita Swift, 25, pointing to the cascading brown curls pinned to her daughter’s head. Swift, a childcare group leader from Queensland, knows all about wiglets, and many other things besides, since joining the world of child beauty pageants in January. Earlier, a woman came by to do Indianna’s face. It’s airbrush make-up, which has pleased Swift, because you can still see Indianna’s freckles. The make-up at the last pageant, she says, was ridiculous. “It looked like she was ready to go on a drag queen show.”
Travelling to Melbourne for a national child beauty pageant is not something that the stage-averse Swift thought she would ever do. And she certainly never imagined forking out $2500 on airfares, hotels, make-up and cupcake dresses for this one contest.
“I was one of those judgmental parents,” says Swift, who has her fiancé, an aspiring policeman called Guy Crane, 25, and her mother Raelene Berich, 48, by her side. “I was one of the worst.”
Just so Grandmother Raelene Berich and mother Melita Swift tweak Indianna's costume.
But things changed when Indianna began to walk. All she wanted to do was perform, but she was pigeon-toed and told she could never dance. Searching for something her daughter could physically cope with, Swift found the Follow Your Dreams competitions, one of the nation’s two big pageant systems. She believes practising the simple pageant poses has helped to almost cure Indianna’s pigeon-toed stance.
Like most parents in the growing Australian child beauty pageant industry, Swift believes she is unfairly stigmatised because of the reality-TV series Toddlers & Tiaras (screened here on Foxtel). The show is about the $US5 billion ($7.1 billion) US child pageant industry at its most exploitative, with “momsters” telling their daughters to “smile until it hurts!” and feeding them Pixy Stix candy (otherwise known as “pageant crack”).
Of course, before Toddlers & Tiaras, there was the strange and unsolved 1996 murder in Colorado of six-year-old beauty queen JonBenét Ramsey, who looked like a doll. And after Toddlers & Tiaras came the spin-off Here Comes Honey Boo Boo , a popular show until it was axed when June Shannon, the mother of Honey Boo Boo (real name Alana Thompson), reunited with a child sex offender who had allegedly abused another daughter. Tawdry doesn’t even begin to describe this stuff.
Pout Indianna practises her moves.
Melbourne entrepreneur Kylie Drew, 44, who runs the Follow Your Dreams competitions, knows what Toddlers & Tiaras is like; she was once a guest judge on a pageant featured by the show. Drew, multitasker extraordinaire and self-confessed control freak, has travelled extensively across the US. Six years ago, she imported this particularly American subculture to Australia, setting up one of the country’s first child modelling pageants.
The Australian culture, she says, is different. Unlike the US, children are not judged on their facial beauty. And she says the parents are better behaved than those television “pageant moms”. As dance schools face growing criticism of their skimpy outfits and suggestive moves, Drew says she offers a safe place, and a friendly community, for stage-obsessed kids to strut their stuff and gain confidence.
Can this really be so harmless? “The haters”, as Drew calls them – such as those behind Collective Shout, the campaign against the objectification of women and the sexualisation of girls – certainly don’t think so. Collective Shout and psychologist Michael Carr-Gregg, among others, have called on politicians to ban child pageants, arguing they create “sexualised dolls”, leading to negative body image, eating disorders, depression and low self-esteem.
Yet sitting in Room 25, watching Indianna bouncing on the hotel bed, it is hard to see her as an exploited or troubled child. She’s one of the happiest, most delightful five-year-olds I’ve ever met. Later in the day I’ll find myself confused, even disturbed, by other parts of the pageant experience, but not now. This little girl is fine.
I t’s just after 10.30am and the action is starting in the hotel’s function room. Kaliese comes on stage in a coral cupcake dress. “Kaliese is outgoing,” says Drew, MC-ing from the side of the stage (she has a microphone in one hand, her smartphone in the other: she is simultaneously running a dance competition down the road). “Her favourite movie is Tinkerbell . Her hero is her daddy.”
As soon as Kaliese comes off stage, her mother, Sheridan Larkman – who also runs pageants – puts a dummy in her mouth. Kaliese is 16 months old and, for most of her performance, was in her mum’s arms. But she smiled and waved at the judges, the most you can expect from someone yet to master a fork. In this under-three category, she’s up against some tough competition: 14-month-old Marley, a little ratty after skipping a nap, and Kaliese’s sister Alaska, 2½, who later completely misses the talent section due to her afternoon sleep.
The first category, formal wear, is a crucial section, making up half the final score. Later comes casual wear, “outfit of choice” and an optional talent segment. In all categories, except talent, contestants assume poses and walks. “It’s like they are gliding on stage,” is how Swift describes it.
It’s about poise, elegance and a quality often mentioned in the pageant world called “sass”. Cheekiness, in other words.
The three most important people in the room are sitting in front of the stage: the judges. One is Jessica Martini, Miss Galaxy Australia 2014. Martini has long blonde locks that hit the top of her peplum skirt. She could be a real-life Barbie, except, of course, researchers once estimated the odds of finding a real woman with Barbie’s waist measurement was one in 2.4 billion. The judges enter each contestant’s score for technique, overall presentation and grooming into their laptops.
Judge Jessica Martini, Miss Galaxy Australia 2014.
Next on stage is Neveah (yes, that’s “heaven” spelt backwards) in a diamanté rhinestone cupcake dress. The three-year-old is tentative, a mouse in an open space, and skitters off the stage as soon as she can.
After her performance, four-year-old Tabitha (“Her ambition is to be a rock star, her favourite movie is Frozen ”) receives from her mother a pink toy camera in its packaging. Reward? Bribe? I don’t know.
Then there’s another Marley, who is three. Marley’s mother Raelene Eshun, 36, is in the audience, discreetly giving little cues to her daughter with her hands.
Eshun is an unlikely pageant mother. She has dreadlocks and works in child protection. Marley’s father Edward Eshun is from Ghana, and he and Raelene also care for his daughter Naa, 9, competing today. Edward, a drummer and dancer, sits quietly in the corner, offering advice when asked. Should Naa’s hair be up, down, or halfway up and down? Naa wants to model: “She’s a very humble young girl, but get her on the runway and she just turns into Naomi Campbell,” says Raelene Eshun. So Eshun found Drew’s competitions. And then Naa wanted her sister Marley to join her.
Like most mothers here, Eshun found a supportive, tight-knit community in the pageant world. And Eshun is particularly impressed that the Follow Your Dreams pageants do not score girls on facial beauty. “With the American TV shows, you think it is all about fake eyelashes and that sort of stuff. I put a little lip gloss on my girls. Yes, there are mums who may go a bit overboard, but that’s okay, that’s their choice. My girls do fine without all that extra stuff.”
P ageants are not cheap. This one costs $350 to enter. Dresses are about $150 second-hand or up to $2000 new, depending on how “blinged” they are, as one mother put it. One 12-year-old contestant has a $3000 dress (it’s about making sacrifices for your kids, her devoted dad says, so he buys his clothes from Kmart). So why do parents (mostly mothers) do this? Fame? Maybe. If they stick with the pageant system they might find fame as Jennifer Hawkins and Rachael Finch did after appearing in the Miss Universe competition.
But others, like Raelene Eshun, do it simply because their kids enjoy it. “I think they get confidence and friendships, the obvious stuff,” says Eshun, whose daughters sell their unwanted toys at garage sales to pay for their pageants. “Marley is a very creative, confident little girl. She was born that way and I think it is a fantastic outlet for her to be who she is.” (Marley now has an agent and has modelled for Aldi nappies.)
Double act Cruz Clarke with his mother, Karina, who also competes.
Karina Clarke, 39, has spent nearly $2000 on this pageant (“My husband would kick my butt if he knew,” she jokes). It’s particularly expensive this time because Clarke is also performing with her son Cruz, 4, the competition’s only boy. Clarke, a hairstylist, started Cruz in pageants because “he was pretty obsessed with the stage”. He often wins “Prince” or “King” of his category, but has never pulled off a “Supreme” title. It’s a tough ask to win against the “sparkly” girls, Clarke admits, so she adds “some bling” to his little suits.
Sharp Veteran "Prince" and "King" Cruz.
Quite how Cruz, or anyone else, knew he loved the stage before he got up on one in his first pageant is just one of the questions I find myself puzzling over during what turns out to be a long and bewildering day. But for many mothers – such as Clarke, Eshun and Swift – the pageant journey begins with the booming baby-show industry. That’s where their child first discovers the thrill of a stage. This was true for Sheridan Larkman, mother of Kaliese and Alaska. But why put your baby in a show?
“As a mum, it’s just something that you do,” says Larkman. “Every mum does it at one point or another.” Not this mum, I think. I would never put my 19-month- old in a baby show. But I do not say this out loud.
A lexis Turner is one of those How-does-she-do-it? mums. The 30-year-old from Brisbane is studying a double degree in interior and graphic design, runs her own business, and has a nine-year-old son, a six-year-old daughter and a five-month-old baby. Not only this, but she manages to have perfectly shiny, straight, black, shoulder-length hair and looks gorgeous in all black and jewelled sandals (she’s also wearing a diamanté badge that says “Pageant Mom”). Turner is not a baby-show sort of person, either, but she did watchToddlers & Tiaras. One day, her daughter Ayva – a pretty, olive-skinned little girl with long brown locks – came in while she was watching. “She was hooked,” says Turner.
Ayva was then about three, and Turner thought it was a phase. She took Ayva to dancing classes to see if that would dissuade her from pageants. It didn’t. So 18 months ago, they joined the pageant world. “I think at first she just loved the idea of dressing up and looking pretty and all that stuff,” says Turner. “She was actually quite shy and we didn’t know how she would go on stage. But since then she’s improved so much. Her public speaking is excellent now. She still likes the whole dressing-up thing, but the actual pageant day is the big thing for her.”
This pageant day is not going so well for Ayva. Or so Turner thinks. “The stage is different here, it’s thrown out Ayva’s steps,” she says, anxiously. It’s now time for outfit of choice and Ayva is up. Her song is Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini .
The bikini, it turns out, is neither itsy bitsy nor teenie weenie; it’s actually a halter-neck one-piece with about 10 centimetres of flesh-coloured material in the middle and ruffles above her bottom. Towa
Spread Cs
Retro Nudist Video
Bbc Dp Wife