Russian London and the ‘golden children’ generation

I never resisted temptation because I have found that things that are bad for me do not temp me.

George Bernard Shaw

I adore visiting London. It is the city where contemporaneity blends in with old-fashioned traditions of five o’clock tea and aristocratic manners. There is no other place on earth where people could observe all the best of the booming economy of modern times and ancient history of kings and queens. There is so much to see and to do in this wonderful city and I love it with all my heart. London is a city of history, old customs, yet a modern business centre and trendsetter for fashion and the latest fads. Old architecture, ancient cathedrals, museums and galleries sit alongside fancy boutiques, swish restaurants, theatres and an endless number of beautiful green parks. When I am in London, I try to visit as many art exhibitions and museums as possible and have dinner at one of the many restaurants that are among the best you can find anywhere in the world. Any Russian coming to London feels at first a fascination with distinguished exotically old traditions that were kept for generations, indicating the power, wisdom and stunning beauty of the British Empire. It is a combination of urban mix and royal dynastic history, a splash of first-class gourmet cuisine, and large amount of entertainment. It is a place bubbling with exciting life and city energy.

London nightlife has a huge variety of events and venues to choose from. It can satisfy anybody’s needs and meet the expectations of even the most spoilt and picky person. With numerous pubs providing traditional strong English ale, wine bars and trendy spots with cocktails and expensive champagne as a starting point for the evening, London’s social life extends on into the night with aristocratic parties, rave clubs and glamorous dance venues. London has everything that any person could desire. It is the city of high living standards and offers one a sophisticated lifestyle. No wonder many wealthy Russians choose London as their second home. New Russian oligarchs and other wealthy individuals have helped real estate prices soar and caused designer clothing and jewellery boutiques to increase stock levels. In the wake of a resurgent economy Russians have come to old London town’s establishment like a storm, with generous spending and buying of businesses including sports clubs like Chelsea football club. Rich Russian families invest in their offspring by sending them to the best English schools, buying them expensive cars, and giving them large expense accounts which allow them the freedom to express themselves in an extravagant manner. Such ‘golden children’ are lucky, but many are spoilt brats and they have turned into an arrogant and worthless generation who have everything but a drive for life and ambition. Their parents’ wealth has taken away the strength and eagerness to fight and achieve from them. I had the chance to closely observe these ‘golden children’s’ lifestyle when I went to London for a two-week business trip.

I met Maxim on an airplane when I accidently ended up in business class on my flight to London. I thought that I was finally lucky to have a cute travelling companion, as usually I end up on aeroplanes next to old men or crying children. I learned that Max was a twenty-eight-year-old student who was working on his MBA degree in London. He had a GQ cover style, nice manicure and slick haircut. I could not help noticing his designer coat from the latest collection and the most popular style of sneakers, Louis Vuitton travel bag and Swiss watch. Maxim represented modern Russian success wrapped up in the latest fashions.

Nothing makes the time to go faster on an aeroplane than exciting conversation and a good-looking travel companion next to you. We had an interesting discussion the entire flight about the differences and similarities between London and Moscow. Maxim had spent the last eight years living in London studying and spending his father’s money on entertainment and hobbies. I learned later that his father was a famous oil tycoon who was notorious for scandals and often appeared in Moscow tabloids and yellow press. Maxim proudly announced that he is a great example of an ‘everlasting student’. He didn’t care about work and studying was a good cover for not committing to any job or career. Surprisingly Maxim wasn’t snotty or capricious; rather he was very pleasant and engaging. When he offered to meet me one evening in London I was happy to accept the invitation to his ‘theatre party’. As we were landing I discovered that Maxim had a pocket mirror and a nail file. That man definitely paid a lot of attention to his looks. I’ve always been open-minded about the fashion scene and its new trends including the whole unisex movement thing, but I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions and assume Max was gay. There are plenty of men, like the English footballer David Beckham and many Hollywood actors, who spend a lot of time and invest a lot of money into their looks and style. They have manicures and facials; follow the latest designer collections and fashion trends, and keep up with or make the latest gossip and publicity. Such ‘metrosexuals’ are special men; distinct twenty-first century breeds who like spas, body treatments, shopping and glamour. These unisex men combine the best bits of the two genders, using their femininity to look better but still managing to stay masculine. Maxim reminded me of a typical metrosexual type and I stayed open-minded to his beauty obsession.

A few days later I met Maxim at his theatre party in a St Martin’s Lane hotel. Maxim introduced me to some of his friends and other people who were involved in the theatre business. I was excited about my first bohemian party in London and I enjoyed the trendy hotel atmosphere and wanted to discover more about the golden child. The hotel had one of the best bars in town and I tried to taste different masterpieces from one of the best bartenders in London. I discovered that Maxim did PR and party promotion and that he organised this get-together for one of his actor friends. It was one of Maxim’s hobbies to manage fancy events for rich Russians. He knew how to impress and he had good taste. Guests had a chance to snack on caviar, lobsters and other exotic appetisers washing down the food with Krug champagne.

After a few generous martinis I felt like flirting with Maxim, who looked gorgeous in his slim jeans and unbuttoned white shirt. He looked manly and feminine at the same time, smiling like an innocent child but speaking in a serious low tone. Once again he was acting like a male model, playfully raising his eyebrows and gently rubbing lip-gloss with the tip of his finger. Maxim was giving me attention and I was thrilled at the anticipation of a new dating experience. However, when I was chatting to one of Maxim’s friends, he mentioned an interesting detail about him. He was bisexual and had dated half of the men at the party. It should have been no surprise for a woman who lives in Moscow, a city of liberal sex, but I was lost for a moment and unable to react. I certainly liked Maxim and wanted to spend more time with him but I was feeling awkward thinking that my competition could be any one of his male friends. Still it was tempting to get to know Maxim better. I had nothing to lose expect a chance to experience a new type of relationship with a bisexual metrosexual. I thought that the best thing to do would be to go with the flow and not interfere with the natural course of events.

The next day Maxim invited me again to go out with his friends. We had dinner in the fancy Nobu restaurant and we all headed back to his apartment afterwards for a nightcap. Max’s place was in a fancy neighbourhood Kensington where he had a beautiful modern stylish flat: a gift from a generous loving father. While Maxim poured me a drink I reflected on the evening and looked around at his friends. Most of Maxim’s friends were the same: ‘everlasting students’ who didn’t really care about degrees and diplomas. Their future had been decided for them and they had enough spending money to enjoy life to the fullest. Many conversations were about new cars, recent trips to exotic destinations, latest D&G collections and rumours about their celebrity friends. I had a feeling that I was living somebody else’s life.

I had nothing in common with people whose world revolved around material things that they even didn’t have to earn money to pay for. I enjoyed their jokes and relaxed attitude, but it was a different world to mine where young people had everything and didn’t have to work like me for a living. They worshipped fashion, wasted time on partying and didn’t have to worry about saving the world. I didn’t judge them for being spoiled by their parents. Of course I questioned myself: how would I have turned out if I had all this money growing up? Would I ever have become a fighter or go-getter if I had a brand-new Mercedes delivered at my door for my sixteenth birthday? I guess everyone has a choice to become different in spite of a poor or rich background, because at the end of the day, surroundings make us what we are, but to discover our true self takes strength. Maxim was part of the golden child society but he seemed a more down-to-earth type of guy who was sensitive and more vulnerable than the others. He didn’t seem to have an emotion-proof thick skin. Since I had to work in the morning, I left the nightcap party earlier than anybody else. Maxim went downstairs with me to help hail a cab. Before I got into the car he kissed me and I responded to his kiss with tenderness. I wrapped my arms around his neck and devoted my emotions to the moment. We both left some unsaid words in the air and a magnetic tension that promised further romance.

Maxim made sure that we spent time alone the following night. We held hands and in a cozy twilight corner of Chapriani’s restaurant whispered words of affection to each other.

‘I really like you. You are so normal,’ said Maxim kissing me. I guess to be called normal was a compliment since his friends were from a different planet where the word ‘job’ didn’t exist.

‘I feel comfortable with you. I feel like I can tell you anything,’ Maxim whispered and played with my hair. His eyes were full of sincerity; they were full of warmth and gentleness. Maxim told me about his childhood, his dominant and demanding parents, his luxurious life in London and meaningless years of studying. I was now trusting Maxim and I felt comfortable telling him about my difficult beginning in Moscow and desperate attempts to find a job. Our life stories were completely different but we were attracted to each other.

We continued our discussion in his apartment on a couch in front of the fireplace. There was unexplainable connection between us mixing warm feelings of friendship and romantic cravings. I spent the night at his place and on my way to work the next morning, I tried imagining a future relationship with Max. Maxim had been a gentle and romantic lover last night. We spent hours watching the fire, kissing and drinking Baileys before he started to unbutton my shirt. I could feel that Maxim would not be direct. He preferred affection, foreplay and slow erotic touching. I assumed that his bisexual experiences affected his sexual behaviour. This new sexual experience brought new feelings to me and opened delicate senses within my inner self. Maxim taught me to listen to your partner’s breathing, be slow and make smooth caressing movements and learn the tenderness of kissing.

I enjoyed my time with Maxim. He showed me a different London, which I hadn’t seen before. It was a Russian London where the power of money played a big role. We spent the next few days going out to football matches, auctions, special parties and bar openings where Russians could show off their wealth and status. We both felt that our unobtrusive friendship grew into something more and stronger than our sexual attraction. I knew that Maxim would never leave this world of careless golden youth and he realised that I would never stop being a life-survivor. We mutually respected each other’s choices and enjoyed the moments of our acquaintance.

When I went back to Moscow I knew it was only a matter of time before we eventually stopped communicating. We were both busy with our usual routines, Maxim had to help his friends organise fancy parties and I had to write a business plan for one of my projects. It seemed like there was a dividing line between golden children and the life-fighters, keeping the balance of diversity.