Step Back from the Light

Young man, do yourself a favor and don’t attempt Soho Rooms. I mean, you won’t get in anyway and, moreover, they’ll publicly humiliate you at the door for having the gall to try to breach Moscow’s magical elitny club scene in A+F. (What the fuck?! This is the biggest day of your life and you’re wearing army print cargo shorts!)

"Come towards the legggggs"

But, on the freak chance that you do speak the correct incantation to Pasha Feis Kontrol, before rushing forward towards secrets kept since the dawn of time, ask yourself, “What good will it do for my life?”

Gurgle gurgle

What lies beyond: Hyper-sexualized nymphs rolling on top each other. Supermodels eating up every awkward drunk thing you day like it’s the Holodomor famine. Zero competition by other menfolk.

Is this real life? Have you finally arrived at a place where beautiful women appreciate your natural worth and charm, and reward it with sexual favors in the bathroom? Or is it an alien race, punishing the hubris of man?

"Auggh she's mind-melding!"

Some people’s faces melt off on contact with Soho Rooms, like Raiders of the Lost Ark. Those are the lucky ones. The rest have to go on living knowing that a place like this exists in the world and they can’t live there.

Neenu Neenu

Having to live among uppity, pear-shaped women with memories of Soho Room still fresh in the mind, they eventually drives awls into their own eyes.

You flew too close to the sun, killa.

Soho Rooms, 12 Savvinskaya Naberezhnaya, Metro: Sportivnaya, Tel. 988-7474, sohorooms.com

Photos: mainpeople.ru

A Return to Modesty

Watching the Moscow nightlife scene has always been morbidly fascinating, like watching a large bruise change colors, but this current shade of yellow-green is particularly unbecoming. What happened? Is this the last stage on Moscow's teleological journey? Before it goes straight? Before it abandons pleasuring you in the bathroom for high-necklines and non-alcoholic beers, like the rest of the world?

I'm talking, of course, about the advent of The MOST and Soho Rooms. These places, now dominating the elitny nightlife scene, are cast from the same mold: sophisticated, uber-exclusive pick-up joints that cut out all of the fun stuff, namely lasers, midgets, glitter and hoochies a go-go. The MOST boasts a "no hos" door policy and Soho Rooms claims not to be interested in anyone under 25.

It seems reasonable that oligarchs don't want to wade through all the carnival trash and tubby Americans before they find a diamond. But that's all the fun. Sure, you can meet Roman Abramovich at The Most. But will you be able to wear your favorite FM boots? No, sister.

After a few raspberry cordials, a tender embrace with a bosom buddy at Soho Rooms gets out of hand.

It's not like the options are getting better. For the girls, that is. Rather, it's stripped the fabulously degenerate, all-or-nothing club scene to its most basic porportions: smokin' babes, malformed men and shit music. Boo.

SOHO ROOMS -- a place where Nastya, achingly beautiful Nastya, can finally find her sponsor and be home by 11 pm.

SOHO ROOMS -- where a genetic failure can buy Katya a mojito and still be 90% sure she'll respond to his text messages by next weekend because she's 28 and can't be arsed with this club shit anymore.

Call it disillusionment. Call it growing up. Call it Medvedev onset. But Dyagilev will always be the President of my heart.

Photos: mainpeople.ru
The Most, 6/3 Kuznetsky Most Ulitsa, Metro: Kuznetsky Most, Tel. 660-0706, themost.ru

Soho Rooms, 12 Savvinskaya Naberezhnaya, Metro: Sportivnaya, Tel. 988-7474, sohorooms.com