A dream indeed… The evening started with a whole load of bedazzled damsels, walking through the shady woods that surround Serednikovo Castle nearby the Moscow region. The high elite, all in one place, in the midst of Russia’s woods. From art dealers to art healers, the colors advanced into a decadence of an ultra-violet tendency, drawing the elves and witches into another realm.
En route from another party, we barely had time to put on our strands of hair, embellishing them with fake flowers and grapes on the way out. My date is a redhead ex-model character, sipping on the leftovers of our warm champagne, who kept noting that we missed our cab and we’re late for the super-magical performance presented by the hosts, a clever duo with brains and class: Margo Trushina and her husband Salavat Timiryasov.
Finally we arrive close to midnight to find guests such as the Moscow Multimedia Museum Director Olga Sviblova cosy near the bar with performance artist Andrey Bartenev. Not too far away, Sasha Frolova, an old artist friend who is still in her latex frenzy, dancing to the non-stop beats of a hardcore technoid ensemble, and I walk down the unevenly organized steps to the river with my model friend Danila Polyakov and Vanya Vasiliev, an MTV host. The guests, foaming with happiness and lost in the clouds of this parade, proceed to the water, where my designer friend Dmitry Fedorov and I peek at the spaceship art object of Margo Trushina, hanging over the pond. We slam into an empty boat-like structure, as others are being taken hostage in overloaded drafted boats, and we row to the midst of the middle, hollering like bewitched creatures.
At about 3:00 AM, realizing that most of our drag queen friends had departed, I find Igor Skaletsky, a quite quirky painter from Tel Aviv, loitering around the stage, while the guests dance their techno-trance away. My hair, dangling down to my ankles, and my long Nina Ricci dress, which I swapped for an easy rider jacket in Berlin, drag me down into all of the left-overs of the party. I sit still under a tree with Igor’s girlfriend, swinging back and forth and wondering when it will be that we head home soon.
A second stage opens, and all the trance-lovers mingle toward it, while my dream is characterized by a euphoric feeling that the forest, having come alive, is lifting the veils of passers-by.
We drifted into another reality, where somehow I realized not all elves and witches are real, but there is a time and a space where real people meet real people and dance the night away.