Oh, man. Moscow Doesn’t Believe in Tears lives for one week a year, and that’s this one, which lassoes the Supreme Luxury conference and the Millionaire Faire into one diamond-farting extravaganza. Here are scenes from last weekend’s Millionaire Faire, in case you were starting to believe “Market Maturing Toward Tasteful Luxury.”
Keeping up with the Ivanovs.
When in doubt, castle your crazy marble, diamond encrusted Aztec totem.
Fantasy adventure Olga, you look divine.
But is there room left for the microwave?
Come to think of it, I wouldn’t kick the Ivanovs out of bed for eating crackers.
At last! A car to match my 17-year-old girlfriend’s Sony Ericsson.
Where am I?! Ah, yes.
You fool! I found the same 4 icelink rims with Bentley Coupe and 24-hour bodyguard down the street for $2 million!
Children, release those fistfuls of worthless dollars! Now it is the ruble that is doing the fucking.