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Club Review October 30, 2007
The Columnist With The Mostest
Another night with the rich and beautiful By Dmitriy Babooshka Browse author

My world is full of surprises. Most of them are pleasant (especially since I started working for The eXile) but sometimes my life has its disappointing episodes. I already told you about my iDrama, how I lost my iPhone. Now that I bought a MacBook to make me feel better, I discovered that it's next to impossible to find computer games for it.

To be honest there are computer games for Macs but you have to buy them legally. It means I can't go to the pirate markets at Gorbushka or Savelovsky, where software is practically free. No way! I couldn't bear thoughts that my life of computer gaming has come to an end.

Enter the PlayStation. I've read that the top people at Sony decided to reposition their gaming counsel and market the PlayStation Portable (PSP) to upwardly mobile people like myself. The company's marketing strategy was designed to make the PSP more of a trendy fashion accessory than a gaming unit. I have seen many pictures of Paris Hilton holding her tiny lapdog and a PSP. She even has a special dress collection for the PSP designed by some famous fashion houses.

Since I don't take my beautiful MacBook out clubbing anymore, I needed to find a substitute--something more compact but also fun and cool. Like the PSP. It's not too expensive--just another $280 that I can charge to my Citibank credit card. That charge also gets me 280 bonus points closer to my first award ticket. It's funn,y because even though I hardly fly, I've got all these miles points building up, so I consider myself a true "frequent flier."

Last week I was playing with my new white PSP in the recently-opened PREMYERA cafe on Tverskaya. The interior is fancy, with gold and czarist-style chairs. The okhraniki didn't allow me into Premyera's main room because there was a private bankyet going on there. So I was chilling in the modern bar zone, playing GTA Vice City on my PSP.

Let me point out here that I own a white PSP, which is a limited edition color, unlike the black PSPs which are available to any Ivan Ivanovich. It's the reverse color-scheme for MacBooks.

Anyway, I got bored of the odd drunk bankyet partier, who couldn't appreciate my white PSP, so I decided to leave this cafe and head for the most high-end new place in Moscow. But it wasn't easy.

It took me two weeks to get in touch with the manager of the new club called MOST. Unlike most PR girls she didn't demand to see my story before it goes to print, but she did warn me about Most's strict face control. I asked what she meant, since this was an invite-only opening party. She said no one wearing krossovki (sneakers) could get in the club. Oh well, I could tell this wasn't going to be a very fun opening party.

I dressed in my best dark blue Bolshevichka suit (people my age understand that these are now very fashionable and expensive) and my nice pair of Zara shoes, and showed up to the club with my white PSP in my left hand. It worked – I passed face control easily.

The elite opening party started out as a street party, offering free champagne and cigarettes. On the stage there was a dance show involving torches and fire. But the weather was bad, a heavy Moscow rain, and it's going to get worse. Most of the people left the show and hid inside. Even the security guys hid from the rain in the line of Audi cars exhibited next to the stage.

The door of the club looks more like the gates to a museum, all covered with beautiful steel decorations and glass. It was like the entrance into High Society itself. Actually there were two doors – one to the restaurant and the other down to the club. My heart was beating fast because I didn't know which door I should open.

My DJ friend told me that MOST opened and closed five years ago in the same building. Then it was bought by Alexander Mamut, one of the most famous Russian tycoons who made his money in banking during the murky nineties. Under his management, they expanded the club by digging a huge basement room for a club, with the restaurant upstairs.

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Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops
Automotive Section
We’re happy to introduce a new column in which we publish Moscow’s raw radio communications, courtesy of a Russian amateur radio enthusiast. This issue, eXile readers are given a peek into the secret conversations of Moscow’s traffic police, the notorious "GAIshniki."

Eleven Years of Threats: The eXile's Incredible Journey
Feature Story By The eXile
Good Night, and Bad Luck: In a nation terrorized by its own government, one newspaper dared to fart in its face. Get out your hankies, cuz we’re taking a look back at the impossible crises we overcame.

Your Letters
Russia's freedom-loving free market martyr Mikhail Khodorkovsky answers some of this week's letters, and he's got nothing but praise for President Medvedev.

Clubbing Adventures Through Time
Club Review By Dmitriy Babooshka
eXile club reviewer Babooshka takes a trip through time with the ghost of Moscow clubbing past, present and future, and true to form, gets laid in the process.

The Fortnight Spin
Bardak Calendar By Jared Lindquist
Jared comes out with yet another roundup of upcoming bardak sessions.

Your Letters
Richard Gere tackles this week's letters. Now reformed, he fights for gerbil rights all around the world.

13 Toxic Talents: Hollywood’s Worst Polluters
America By Eileen Jones
Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...


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