Kheppi Byerthday, Mr. Simachev

The Moscow club scene suffers from an alarming infant mortality rate. Remember Versus? Neither do we. After a gradiose opening last September, it quickly faded into relative obscurity. Even my mother could get into Versus now. If the right backs aren’t scratched, bureaucratic brouhahas over liquor licenses, building permits, pool permits, etc. can easily suffocate a baby club . And “accidental” fires (RIP Dyagilev), the preferred means of solving shareholder disputes, claim an unsettling number of victims.

Burn, baby, burn

With this depressing backdrop, cheers to club survivor Denis Simachev Bar, which celebrated its 1st birthday in May. Maybe it’s the new photographer I’m working with, but the bar also seems to have morphed into a happening place you’d actually want to be in. Back when it opened it was the target of severe anathema from, uh, me for using a hipster disaffected veneer to hide a terminally New Russian heart. That is to say, monstrous feis kontrol, overpriced cocktails and golden youth club kids hiding under cardigans. And above all, Denis Simachev’s facial hair is a bit too Megans Law for my taste.

Hide the kids

So it's hard to place why Denis Simachev Bar seems so appealing these days. The photos from the birthday party verify that the place is still very small and very congested, like partying in an ironic shoebox.

Also, what kind of Russian club doesn't have this waiting to slice you open on the dance floor with her razor-sharp pelvic bone. (Sounds of people across the world booking flights to Moscow.) Boring.


I guess its only real acheivement (but one that can by no means be denigrated) is they have hot Russian men, a mythological species. And not just one, but several. I've been at this game for a long time and have yet to see more than two attractive men in the same club. Once, it seemed true, but there was just a mirror in the room.

And if you think that's unusual, get this: They also managed to snag a lesbian for indie street cred. Not a Girl Gone Wild (those are falling out of trees in Moscow), but a real Sapphic powerhouse.

Finally, the man on the left is a Grade A asshat for not letting me in with my cupcake print rainboots. But be nice to him because he mans the door at Simachev Bar.

Photos: uaixblog.com, mainpeople.ru, mixtura.org

Denis Simachev Bar, 12 Stoleshnikov Per., Metro: Teatralnaya, Tel. 629-8085