Thursday, February 7, 2008

Dyagilev Self-Immolates!

Contrary to popular reports, I was not playing the fiddle while Dyagilev burned, nor did I have any hand in it. I am not even in the country anymore, an issue I will address at a later date when there are not nightclubs to eulogize. At noon on February 6, Interfax reported that Dyagilev, the city’s legendary elitny mega-club in historical Hermitage Garden, the one that sadistically split up groups of friends between the club and the showers, the one that told supermodel Natalia Vodianova to home and change at the door (she did), was en fuego and not in the Corona-sponsored Spring Break sense. In the end, they managed to evacuate Anka and all the acrobats, giraffes and midgets in ass-less chaps from the premises, but Dyaga itself shuffled off this mortal coil. (No, actually, the fire was started by welders doing set decorations during the day.) Nightlife photography website responded by immediately posting images of the smoldering club on its society photos page. Klass.

Yet many had long expected the demise of this particular nightclub. At two years old, it was a toothless crone in a city that continually defects to the fresher, hotter and more fascistically exclusive. On the down-for-anything front, Rai had it pwned, and new oligarch clubhouse The MOST had siphoned away all the truly sophisticated beauties looking for husbandry. Which meant that all Dyagilev really had left going for it were obscure theme parties, impressive silicone artistry and carnival hoochies. In light of these physical facts, it’s not hard to believe any number of conspiracy theories. Did Sinisha Lazarevich torch his own place for insurance money? Or had the nightclub sensed its own demise and courageously choose to go out in a blaze of glory rather than jump the shark? Or did someone just leave the fire torch on? In that case, Dyagilev died as it lived -- fabulously retardedly.

History will remember Dyagilev for raising the bar for human humiliation with $40,000 tables and people with the surname Feis Kontrol posted at the door. Katie's panties will remember Dyagilev for being ditched in its bathroom at the behest of a minigarch. We'll all remember Dyagilev for learning us good what it means not to believe in tears.