The stars have gone.

The same thing has happened to the sluts with cocktails. They’ve disappeared. And all the millionaires have moved out.

The lads in red sneakers were replaced with some brainless women (Arkady Anatolyevich, you’re totally wrong here; with all my respect, you won’t succeed in your attempt to serve the traditional values: you know that no one from the establishment will ask those wenches to a dessert at Hyatt even if you want it/don’t want it – so, please, have the lads back).

Whores waiting in the bar for some mythical oligarchs all the evening long are no more.

But.

The place’s packed, even during the day. For already 15 years in a row.

It’s the 2000s.

But (2). If the provincial version of high society attracts none of your interest, then they still have the timeless salad with chicken liver and chicken (and it remains fucking awesome), gazpacho with crab, which you won’t find in Andalusia, veal with cucumber and coconut sorbet for you. And half of the menu more, ok!

Forget about all the rest. Leave it for “fashionable fashionistas”. It’s for them that TsUM is rebuild across the road, and it doesn’t matter if they don’t know who Dries van Noten is, and even who Ann Demeulemeester is (for Christ’s sake!), but they have a deep understanding of Gosha Rubchinskiy. Just drop it.

It’s still delicious in “Vogue”. It’s still 2003, and there are Le form & wild strawberry in there.