The Weekest Link

Moscow fashion -- no longer an oxymoron? Places like The MOST created a new market demand for dignifıed, pretty things you can wear on the street without your lady pieces falling out. At this year's Russian Fashion Week, designers Alena Akhmadullina and Terexov spearheaded a revolution in sartorial understatement, forgoing peacock colors and FM boots for gray tweed and sensible shoes.

The new rank-n-file dyevushki -- elegant, timeless, boring as fuck.

Goodie Sveta in Akhmadullina's Pilgrim collar.

But who cares about them. Certainly not MDBIT, who cares only for the zeniths and nadirs of human achievement. And for every Terexov and Akhmadullina, there's ten more Russian designers pushing the bill on what can be worn in public.

Sergey Zverev for Ilya Shagin. Schwing!

Nationalism sellz: Two Gun Towers' flag cape will be the season's hit

Sergei Efremov Doesn't Believe in Pants.

Carnie chic

Fuck.

As an amateur social anthropologist, Konstantin Gayday's Russian folk print ghoulie faces Muslim keffiyah just made my head explode.

Honorable mention: After all that bad press they got for being rapey, Slava Zaitsev makes being a Cossack cool again.

Good evening, bitties!

Recess tip hats

Taking the fug cake is the 2008-2009 fall-winter collection of Kira Plastinina, the teenage daughter of dairy magnate Sergei Plastinin. A high-powered corporate father and an independently sucessful daughter -- so much talent in that family, it's not fair.

Ma'am! You dropped your vag.

Photos: Geometria.ru

No Oirish Need Apply

The Oirish have a right to drink. Not only has the proud Celtic culture been reduced to Lucky Charms and theme bars, you have places like Rai in Moscow Effing Russia co-opting their sacred holiday of the apostle St. Patrick saving all the potatoes from leprechauns. And making it really skanky. Jameson, you Uncle Tom!

Riverskank

You think that everyone loves the Oirish but look how many of them made it into Rai. A sea of Slavs without an O'Drunky in sight. What the hey, Rai. The Oirish are fun, too. So cute you want to feed them cereal out of your pocket. Moreover, now they're all at Silver's, feeding me Long Islands and making me sing folk songs about hating the Engrish until I can't stand anymore.

Barman! I'd like a refreshing beverage...

Can you recommend anything?

Just to wet my beak.


What to have, what to have...

What am I here for again?

I'd recognize that dewy Northern European alcoholic facial slick anywhere. An Oirish slipped inside -- get him!


Don't be fooled. That elephant always has green lasers coming out of its eyes.

As usual, Andreas takes it completely beyond the Pale with his fashion choices.