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That gets them in.”At midnight Oliona heads for the latest club.

Worming cavalcades of black (always black), bullet-proof Bentleys and Mercedeses move slowly toward the entrance. She’s taken off her high heels and wears pink, fluffy slippers. She talks about everything matter-of-factly, even with amusement: the story of a very bad, but somehow slightly funny, working day.“They took turns. Occasionally one would go out for pickled fish and vodka.

Apply this principle when you search for a rich man. A pool of serious blonde girls taking careful notes. The academy has faux-marble halls, long mirrors, and gold-color-painted details. You go for your gold-digger lessons, then you go get waxed and tanned.

On a first date there’s one key rule: never talk about yourself. The teacher is a forty-something redhead with a psychology degree, an MBA, and a shrill smile, her voice high and prim, a Miss Jean Brodie in short skirts: “Never wear jewelry on a first date, the man should think you’re poor. Arrive in a broken-down car: make him want to buy you a smarter one.”The students take notes in neat writing.

Each restaurant has a new theme: the Middle East, Asia. ”“When I told him what happened he raged, promised to kill them.

Not so much imitative pastiche as knowing hints at someone else’s style. A workout bench: they would lift weights in between sessions.

The show is going to be called How to Marry a Millionaire.

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Now she earns the basic Moscow mistress rate: the apartment, ,000 a month, a car, and a weeklong holi- day in Turkey or Egypt twice a year. And though many westerners tell me they think Russians are obsessed with money, I think they’re wrong: the cash has come so fast, like glitter shaken in a snow globe, that it feels totally unreal, not something to hoard and save but to twirl and dance in like feathers in a pillow fight and cut like papier-mâché into different, quickly changing masks. the music goes faster and faster, and in the throbbing, snowing night the cattle become Forbeses and the Forbeses cattle, moving so fast now they can see the traces of themselves caught in the strobe across the dance floor.Listerman calls the girls his “chickens”; he poses for photos with kebab sticks of grilled poussins: “Come to me if you’re after chicken,” his advertisements say. Whenever I look for a vein of sadness in Oliona it melts away.Oliona lives in a small, sparkly new apartment with her nervous little dog. As a director it’s my job to catch her out, find a chink, pull the emotional lever where her façade crumbles and she breaks and cries.The apartment is on one of the main roads that leads to billionaire’s row, Rublevka. No biggie.”Oliona’s relationship with the Pushkin-loving Forbes didn’t last long. But she just turns and twists and smiles and shimmers with every color. If she loses her sponsor she’ll just start again, reinvent herself, and press reload. the clubs get going properly; the Forbes stumble down from their loggias, grinning and swaying tipsily.Rich men put their mistresses there so they can nip in and visit them on the way home. They are all dressed the same, in expensive striped silk shirts tucked into designer jeans, all tanned and plump and glistening with money and self-satisfaction. Everyone is wrecked by now and bounces around sweating, so fast it’s almost in slow motion.

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