I can’t give you the real name of the woman I’m about to introduce. After watching this video, you’ll understand why she must remain anonymous. People like her can’t be out in the open, sharing their beliefs, hopes, and fears. But still, Sylvia (we’ll call her Sylvia) has agreed to share her story for my project, Humans of Russia, just so that people in the West can understand what’s truly happening in the world’s largest country.
Sylvia lives in Moscow and is a highly successful entrepreneur. Strong, vibrant, and elegant, she leaves a lasting impression—even in simple home clothes and without a hint of makeup. Picture a puma, a mountain lioness: golden fur and sparkling blue eyes.
In her fifties, Sylvia is wise and experienced. She loves beautiful clothes, luxury hotels, and the business world, where millions are at stake and incredible people and opportunities abound.
Sylvia had always dreamed of owning a beauty brand, and her dream came true in the most unexpected way. For many years, she worked as a crisis manager, knowing the Moscow elite well. She had the right connections and, just for fun, helped an unknown chemist named Galina host a skincare workshop.
Galina was passionate about sharing her knowledge on skincare, longevity, and health. More than a hundred people showed up for her workshop, and skeptical Moscow ladies listened, entranced.
Sylvia watched this delicate woman on stage and thought, “Damn, she has such talent, but she’ll never make it. She’s from the provinces—no money, no connections, no idea how to promote herself. What a waste.”
In the beginning of 2020s, Russia experienced a boom in online education. Everyone wanted to learn, grow, and focus on their health. Sylvia decided to open her own beauty school and invited Galina as a teacher. The business brought in solid profits—around $100,000 per launch.
All this time, Galina worked as a chemical technologist at a factory producing skincare products. She invested the money from her teaching gigs into developing her own line, just nine products. One day, she asked Sylvia, “Could you help me grow my brand?”
“I’d love to,” Sylvia said. “But my fee is $28,000 per month.”
In Galina’s hometown, that amount could buy several apartments. It was an impossible sum for her.
So, Galina offered Sylvia half of her company. The proposal was both crazy and irresistible. Sylvia had always dreamed of owning her own beauty brand, and now, it seemed the universe was handing her exactly what she wanted: “Here it is. Come and take it.” The only catch was that the monthly revenue of Galina’s company was a mere $2,300 at the time.
Sylvia agreed, on the condition that Galina would continue to develop the product, and Sylvia would run the business. For Sylvia, it was a new challenge—a game she desperately wanted to play. The ultimate prize was the chance to achieve incredible results and prove herself to the world.
Sylvia got to work, but then the pandemic hit. Offline retailers stopped ordering products because all the stores closed, yet Sylvia’s business grew by 35%. People started shopping online more, and Russia began using local alternatives to Amazon, like Ozon and Wildberries.
Sylvia sourced everything in Europe—from ingredients to bottles, and business was booming. Her revenue reached half a million dollars a month, with 101 products on offer.
The biggest obstacle to growth was the stereotype that quality beauty products could only come from France, Italy, or Switzerland. Could a Russian brand possibly measure up?
Sylvia set out to educate her customers. Her consultants explained that the ingredients and equipment came from the same suppliers in Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. In fact, even the most luxurious brands are sourced from the same places.
Creating a beauty product begins with an idea: what problem it should solve and how. Then, they find a supplier for the active ingredients and order a small quantity—active ingredients are very expensive. After numerous experiments, the formula is written, tested, and sent to a manufacturing lab. There, chemical technologists replicate the product, and if it passes all tests, production begins.
But with the war in Ukraine, everything changed. On one hand, it became impossible to source ingredients directly from Europe. On the other, almost all foreign competitors left the market. To keep the business going, Sylvia had to quickly overhaul the logistics chain. She now buys from the same suppliers but channels the products through one of the former Soviet republics. Yes, it’s more expensive, but the sales volume compensates for it.
Sylvia is against the war and can’t wait for it to end. She and other entrepreneurs in her circle place their hopes on President Trump, hoping he will find a way to end this nightmare. Everyone knows things can never go back to the way they were, but the heart longs for normalcy and stability.
Although many Russian companies have seen profits increase—thanks to the exit of competitors and rising prices—the business environment remains unstable. Sylvia can’t move her capital or production out of Russia, and there are constant rumors that Russian banks might freeze assets because the government is running out of funds for the war. What’s even more frightening is the possibility of being forced to sell her business to someone backed by the political police or other “siloviki.”
This is why she avoids heavy advertising. If she spends $100,000 on promotion, she’ll immediately come under the radar of “Comrade Major.” Better to avoid the risk.
Sylvia keeps a low profile. She pays her taxes on time and refuses to operate in the black market, as many others do. But starting January 1, her company was placed on a list of businesses that must pay an additional revenue tax. This tax only affects larger companies, which means the government knows exactly how much money she’s making.
The government continues to cause Sylvia a headache. Now, they want every bottle to have an individual barcode. One bottle, one specific barcode. Who benefits from this? Who knows? Manufacturers must comply, and consumers have to pay for the added cost.
Sylvia believes something will change soon. What exactly? A default? A freeze on deposits? No one knows. Right now, the refinance interest rate in Russia is 21%, and deposit interest rates are 24%. This can’t go on forever because those kinds of returns only happen when you’re dealing drugs. For many manufacturers, it’s more profitable to just put their money in a bank and collect interest without doing anything.
Everyone is focused on the present, reacting to the circumstances as they come. No one can predict what direction Russian history will take next.
Sylvia loves Russia and hopes she won’t have to emigrate. But for her, it’s important to remain a free person. She wants to be able to hop on a plane to Paris anytime for some oysters. She doesn’t like that she has to travel to another country to get an American visa because the embassy in Moscow no longer issues them.
But just in case, Sylvia is preparing a backup plan. She already has ideas on how to expand her business in the US and France.
