Bon by Philippe Starck
The Italians only had one thing to say to us when we told them we were going to Moscow. We were secretly hoping John Malkovich would take us out for a wild night of drinking, but no such luck. He told us to go to this restaurant…
(ГУМ, pronounced ‘goom,’ in full Государственный Универсальный Магазин, Gosudarstvennyi Universalnyi Magazin)We were at the GUM in Red Square drinking beers, what else?! GUM (the name stands for ’state department store’ in Russian) has long been Russia’s best-known and most popular shopping destination. It is more a mall than a department store these days. Its recently renovated arcades are topped by vaulted skylights and hold some 150 stores and kiosks — far fewer than the 1,200 tenants of the czar’s day, but a good offering of luxury and everyday apparel and goods nonetheless. There were weird accessory stores and bars and Burberry and Max Mara - a little bit of everything.
So, we were at the GUM when we decided it was time to start making our way toward “Bon” for our 7pm reservation. Keep in mind, that when Josh called them this morning to make the reservation, he asked if it would be okay that we wouldn’t be that dressed up as we were going to spend the day doing touristy stuff. The lady on the phone actually laughed at him before telling him it was fine. Ixel and I were looking at the map outside the GUM and all of a sudden someone approached us. I followed my usual routine of completely ignoring whoever’s existance that was standing 3 inches from me. Ixel, unfortunately, also did her usual “I’m the welcoming committee of the world!” routine.
The person who had approached us was an employee of the GUM. It was his job to open and close the door for shoppers and occasionally to get them cabs. He was trying to explain to us the most practical way to get to the restaurant when one of his coworkers spotted us and came over to put in his 2 cents. Then one of the security guards came over. Then another guy. So now it’s me, Ixel, Josh and four Russkies. They’re all gesticulating and arguing over who knows the best way to get to Bon. Finally, we take the word of the oldest of them because he said to “walk down that bridge and will maybe take 5 to 20 minutes.” Not 5 or 6 minutes, not 5 to 10 minutes - 5 to 20. Ha!
By the way, it took almost a half an hour to get there.
We sat down at a table in the middle of the dining room and there was maybe only one other table of people. We were otherwise alone, totahwee awone. There were lamps made out of guns, stools made out of heads, grafitti on the walls… it was so cool. All the chairs and place settings were mismatched, the subversive stained-glass windows went from floor to ceiling and there were huge candles dripping wax to the floor. Our waiter was funny although Ixel was giving him her best 5th Avenue “I don’t care about you lowly waiters” attitude (I think she was just jealous that he didn’t light her cigarette for her out of the blue.) He took me to the upstairs dining room which was covered in ornate faux 17th Century mirrors. It was quite a site. He proudly told me that Marilyn Manson’s girlfriend (Deeta Von Tease) had a big party there with famous djs and the whole nine yards.
Fifteen minutes after having been seated, Ixel noticed a man had been seated at a table not too far away. He was by himself. Another Tina, she said. I had my back to him so I couldn’t really pay attention but Ixel tracked his actions, his eye movements, his heartrate, like a well-trained spy. She also updated us in real time of his actions, “Okay, now Tina’s doing a shot of tequila by himself. He’s still not smiling. I feel really bad for him. Let’s invite him over here!”
NO!
