I was busy trying to manage my own problems when Ames sent me a panicked email that The eXile needed a new club columnist. He said I am perfect for the job because I represent "the new breed of Putin-era yuppie clubbers."
An insult or a compliment? Who cares. While everybody went away on holidays this August, I stayed home and bought myself an unlocked iPhone. It was very expensive, as you can imagine. But why spend my savings on a trip to Antalia and two weeks in a three-and-a-half-star hotel when I could use the $2000 for the iPhone, which I will have for six months, maybe more? (Generally, I do not keep phones longer than six months.)
Well, the iPhone arrived via a Ukrainian courier, and it didn't work. The technical people who helped me unlock it charged me another 3000 rubles, but the iPhone still didn't recognize my SIM card. The bastard who sold me the phone told me it is Megafon's fault and that unlocked iPhones work with MTS or Beeline.
Even though my iPhone doesn't work, I still take it with me everywhere. I loaded one of my favorite Leningrad songs as the ring tone, which I play frequently to imitate the sound of a real phone call.
Dmitry, The eXile's newest club reviewer, demonstrating his patented face control look
New phone in breast pocket, I drove my red VW Passat to meet some friends at MYATA, the cozy DJ lounge cafe near Sportivnaya with an excellent selection of summer cocktails. All the guys there, like Stas and Max, wanted to talk first about their vacation to Tunis or Egypt. But once they saw my iPhone on the tabletop, memories of summer vacations disappeared. People from other tables looked at us and at my iPhone. If you want to laugh, then I will tell you how a very fashionable girl who was sitting with her purse-dog stared at my iPhone with envy. She started to argue with her boyfriend, saying she wanted an iPhone too, but he ignored her. She very quickly lost interest in her dog, and even left him at the table when they walked away. Only five minutes later did they come back to get the dog.
We had a good laugh at the table over this. Then my friend Stas, who works as a brand manager for a sausage company, suggested that if we really want to laugh, we should check out the new TECHNIKA MOLODEZHI club owned by Comedy Club dude Tash Sarkisyan, which is where a lot of actors hang out. If you don't know Comedy Club, then you're missing out on the best comedy in Russia.
We didn't have any address apart from clue that it's located close to Belorusskaya across from the Golden Palace casino. This area is pure promzona, despite its central location. To get back to town usually costs a double fare by taxi or a long and thrilling walk in the night. Though the strong smell from tobacco factory makes this area very dear for me.
My friends and I are all upwardly mobile managers, so we don't necessarily have close friends in the actor's world. But we had no problems getting in. I had my iPhone out and I was wearing my new Paul Smith outfit. No face control problems for us.
The entrance looked like Murakami-inspired imitation of a Japanese airport, with a big display for upcoming parties. We had some fun looking at odd strips of non-existing comic books on the walls of the club. I was very impressed by the Godzilla-size TV in the dining room broadcasting a view of the Kremlin live to the comedy club, which was twice as big as my LG plasma at home. Each table has paper sheets with color crayons for clients to make their own wild drawings, or may be for CC residents to give away autographs.
The dancefloor was empty perhaps due to the 80s music. So we took a table positioned next to a table of actress dyevs, two of whom were beautiful. I conspicuously played with my iPhone, but they pretended not to be impressed, as good actresses can do. For a few hours we sat there and ate large portions of food and drank reasonably cheap drinks.