An American call girl in Moscow

October 27, 2008 15:21:01 Posted at October 27, 2008 15:21:01
Lainey Posted by Lainey

Duana, Michelle, and I… we came home from Europe OBSESSED with Russians. Like, we can’t believe we were so late to arrive at the Russian party.

Because Russians are amazing. We are all about Russians. Or at least the ones on our trip.

As I mentioned last week, Grey Goose invited international media to Europe to promote their product and to introduce their new flavours. We were the only Canadians, there were a couple from Mexico, and the rest were Russians. Like 10 Russians. Which totally makes sense. Moscow has for a couple of years now been ranked the most expensive place to live – Russians are rich these days. And the rest of the world wants a piece.

So the Russians on our trip – flush with their financial good fortune – embodied the spirit of the nouveau riche. Day after day, bag after bag, at Chanel, at Barbara Bui, and Prada, and Gucci, and the unmistakable disdain on their faces when they were forced to share a bus with Duana’s green behemoth of a suitcase.

It was a look we were treated to often. No one does “boredom” quite like these two Russian journalists, treated to the finest hotels and the finest foods and the finest experiences, everything paid for by Grey Goose, but still they couldn’t get up in the morning, couldn’t be bothered to tour with the group, and during the proper Grey Goose presentation and tasting in the afternoon, with the Maitre de Chai, the man who actually invented the taste of Grey Goose, they stumbled in late, and interrupted the speech to signal a waiter to bring them some coffee!!!

We spent 4 days with them and these two - they would not speak to us, they would not look at us. Our very existence was an affront to their very existence. At dinner they would pick at their food, at TRUFFLES!, nonchalantly like they’d just been served dry chicken. They’d flick their cigarettes without looking… at one point Matilda Ledger passed through the revolving door of our hotel and I swear one of them blew cigarette smoke in her face. They fidgeted all through dinner at Jules Verne at the Eiffel Tower itching to get away from the amazing view. At the bar at the Ritz Carlton they seemed thoroughly unimpressed that we were sitting in the very place Hemingway used to come to get completely smashed.

Amazing.

So then it’s time to head to London. We were all of us, we were waiting to leave for the station to catch the Eurostar.

Of course we were held up. And why?

Because the Russians were fighting among themselves over who would pay for the minibar charges!

So we get on the train, we get to London, Michelle and I park ourselves on the Grey Goose Character & Cocktails party carpet waiting to interview David Furnish and Lily Allen, freezing our tits off like the bottom feeding journalists that we are, and all of a sudden, the Russians show up and start posing on the carpet.

We’re like – what the f-ck? Who are these Russians?

And it turns out… they’re famous in Russia! One of them writes for Tatler, the other for Harper’s Bazaar. They’re like mini celebrities over there. And they looked amazing. In sequin dresses, thin but made to be thin, naturally thin, and suddenly it dawned on me… I turned to Michelle:

We were the fattest girls on the trip.

We are average size but we were fat to them. And while we were gossiping about their manners, they were probably gossiping about our gluttony. We ate EVERYTHING. And they ate nothing! And they were probably like – those disgusting Canadians, pah! With their ugly green suitcases and thick thighs!

We were judged by rich Russians and found unworthy. So we spent the rest of the time in London missing our Russians. And then we learned about Dasha. As it turns out, our Russians were just trying to be Dasha.

It made our lives.

Click here for Dasha’s story.

And finally, to arrive at the point of this long post…

This is Denise Richards at Moscow Fashion Week. Because she’s realised the only move left is to return to her roots. You know her roots. And you know her roots will always push her to find the cash. And right now, the cash is in Russia.

Once a whore…

To see more photos of Denise in Moscow, click here.

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