Issue #18/99, September 14 - 28, 2000   

PROJECT VIJAY

Let us begin the begin benignly, benightedly transeversing the benignant landscape of Moscow’s after-dark haute couture. Bisecting the bisexual bivouacs of nightlife a la Russe, I happened upon an exciting broth of erotic blancmange.

Last Friday, the coolest of the cool gathered to pay accolades to Studio, which has entered into the A-list league of Moscow nuit-vive. The first anniversary party was packed to the guilds with Beautiful People, stars, models, and decadent New Russians of all sexual persuasions. Girls in patched sequin tops looked as if they had just walked off a 1970s runway show thrown by Andy Warhol in conjunction the Henry Ford Modeling Agency. One of these girls, Olga, wore a Soviet officer’s hat and a demure bondage-and-discipline leather halter, with platform boots like Elton John’s. I hit her up on the stairwell, and she was definitely interested in me.

While many people pretend to be decadent and liberated, few really are, such as I am. Not only did I make out with model-level babes at Studio, but I made out with model-level guys as well. One, Igor, told me that I am exotical and dashing, and that he had never been with an Indian man before. We made out on the second-floor bar, but I didn’t follow him to the restroom. After I made out with Igor, I went back to Olga, with a mischievous grin on my face.

“Did you see that?” I said.

“See what?”

“I was just with that model-type guy over there,” I said, pointing to Igor, who wore a tight sequin shirt with flared collars and leather pants.

“You’re really crazy,” she told me.

“I know,” I said. I reached to touch her, and she let me. She excused herself a few minutes later, and got lost in the thronging crowds of the super-hip. But I joined another friend, Tanya, and visited the male striptease club next door, “Krasnaya Shopochka”. Now normally this club is a woman’s-only male striptease club, but for me, they parted the doors and welcomed me inside.

Of all the male striptease clubs I’ve been to, this is by far the best. Run by the admirable owners of such mixed-gay clubs as Chameleon, Krasnaya Shapochka features a large strip dance area with hunk Chippendales-level male babes on raised half-cage platforms strutting their stuff and swinging their 0% body fat hips. For a deviously decadent bisexual like myself, it was a fascinating turn-on; for the packed crowd of 20- and 30-something New Russian women, it was heaven itself.

More exciting is the “Crazy Menu”, based on the famous “crazy menu” at Rasputin. You can slow dance with a stripper for 300 rubles, or shower with one for 1500R, a bargain if you ask me. I would have chosen to take the perm-blond Sergei into the “Labyrinth of Passion”, where you take a he-bitch into a room and do whatever you want for 1000R but you only have 10 minutes to achieve it. I tried to finagle a deal to take home Igor (5000R), but was denied. I guess I’m just too devilishly decadent for this crowd! If these prices scare you, then at least the drinks and salads won’t: 150R entrance for girls, 70R for a glass of Carlsberg. But of course, beware what your he-bitch orders if he sits next to you! Lastly, men are rarely allowed in, so other bisexuals like myself not only have to wait for the appointed day, but, if you’re not a well-known local figure like me, then you’ll have to pay the he-fee of 700 rubles.

The one new club that I visited is the freshly-opened Project O.G.I., located around the corner from the new Pizza Hut on Ulitsa Pyatniskaya. There’s not a lot more to say about this place that I didn’t say in last issue’s review. It’s not as stuffy or smoky as the first O.G.I., but the crowd is quite similar. The girls are not at all model-level, usually they wear cheap sweaters and have bad haircuts. If you don’t aspire to the A-list crowd, you’ll probably like this place, as it’s cozy, cheap, and popular with the plebes.

Lastly, I’d like to say that this might be my last review for the eXile. I don’t need to take this job, and I am getting sick and tired of all the racism and hatred pointed my way from readers. It’s probably all just one person hired by the eXile attacking me, but nonetheless I’m tired of it. I am working on a book that should be finished soon, and my articles for Granta and The New Yorker are reaching their final stage. So, I bid you all a farewell, if I don’t see you next issue.

Cards

Links

The Vault

Gallery

Who?