Place rule

In Soviet times, belonging to one or another informal association was associated with a certain amount of risk. Whether they were dissidents, beatniks, black marketeers, speculators, Beatlemaniacs - anyone, entering their circle required not only a certain courage, but also effort: in the harsh conditions of Soviet reality, each party had a certain degree of closedness. With the advent of democracy in the country, adult games of self-identification began to be played according to simpler rules. Since choosing an “adult” party no longer directly correlates with a threat to life, it has become much easier to do, just as it has become easier to get into one circle or another.

Tell me where you go - I'll tell you who you are

One of the surest ways to find yourself in the right crowd is to go to the places where this crowd lives. There are dozens of such places on the map of Moscow alone. After all, any person planning to open a club or cafe knows: in order for an establishment to be popular and visited, its management must be built based on a specific crowd that will come here and weave a good reputation for this place out of thin air.

Two striking examples of such targeted marketing are the restaurants of Arkady Novikov and the projects of Dmitry Itskovich . The former are called upon to serve the Moscow elite of the highest financial category, the latter work for a more marginal public, accustomed to consider themselves an intellectual underground.

About five or six years ago, an acquaintance, who had moved to Moscow about a year ago, dragged me, who had not yet thought of conquering the capital, into quiet, clean alleys and carried me into the basement behind an iron door. “Here,” he said proudly. - “This is the OGI Project.” Secret place. Watch attentively. There’s a director, writer or critic at every table.” People (whose faces were indeed vaguely familiar to me from aesthetic television programs and the Internet) were eating food and drinking vodka. Imbued with the spirit of participation, I looked at what was happening: around me, the same notorious creative process was clearly taking place.

During the time it took me to move to Moscow and become part of this temple with an altar in the form of a 24-hour bookstore, the concentration of creators per square meter of OGI decreased noticeably. More precisely, their number turned out to be greatly diluted by the ever-arriving party-goers of various stripes.

The “OGI Project” systematically turned from a secret appearance of mega-creative personalities into a common place on the entertainment map of the capital, where intellectual products were served with vodka - books, literary readings, speeches by Psoy Korolenko and Khoronko. Answer the question “Where do you go?” the short phrase “At the OGI” meant something more than just gatherings in a pleasant place. Such an answer automatically placed the respondent in a secret community of people involved in alternative intellectual life. Everyone who wanted to be known as an intellectual flocked to the stuffy semi-basement, while those who originally inhabited it left this place in search of another refuge for one simple reason: it became impossible to breathe in the basement.

It's not the place that makes the man

The fact is that the first regulars of the establishment and the party that forms itself under the roof of the same establishment are two different communities. The first is a narrow circle of people whose personal relationships go beyond a pleasant pastime in the same place: these could be artists, writers, television or advertisers, connected with each other by a common cause, similar political or artistic views. The management of the new place is initially focused on them. The second is people who come to the establishment, attracted by its image and the cast of regular characters.

The reputation and image of an establishment always depends on those who become its first regulars. Therefore, it is so important for new pretentious restaurants to attract the entire “beau monde” to the opening and appear in the gossip columns of glossy magazines. By the same principle, it is important for establishments like OGI or FAQ-cafe to attract several names that are widely known in narrow circles, which the rest of the public would flock to. Novikov and Itskovich in this case are monopolists. The right public comes to every new establishment simply because they know who owns it.

“Many people went to OGI, and now they go to Bilingua simply because they have my mobile phone in their address book. They feel protected - they can always call me and complain about the waiter or manager. I have about five thousand such people. They come to my establishments with the feeling that they have come to visit me. And this is enough for my clubs to never be empty,” says Dmitry Itskovich.

The scheme for attracting the first “right” clients is simple: word of mouth + several “right” events where the right people will definitely come. And then they will be made clear: you are wanted and loved here, you are a select circle and can feel at home. To reinforce the feeling of exclusivity of visitors, you can lock the establishment and give keys to the desired clients, as they did in “Apshu”, you can install strict face control in accordance with criteria known only to the top management and security service of the establishment, as in “ Propaganda” "; finally, issue club cards with a huge discount, like in the FAQ-cafe.

Sometimes the party itself develops the criterion by which “ours” will be distinguished from strangers. Ksyusha Sobchak, for example, revealed a terrible secret to readers of her book “Stylish Things.” With a certain periodicity, a dress code is announced in her party, which everyone involved is obliged to comply with. For example, a brand of jeans is chosen, and not some pop like Dolce & Gabbana, but a quirky one - such that it is not always sold in Russia. And so all the partygoers, as one, scour the capital’s shops in search of this brand, and if they don’t find it, they rush to Paris or Milan for the weekend. Only a select few know what this brand is. Whoever does not find it will be called a sucker in heaven. Not to mention those who didn’t know anything, dressed to the nines and didn’t understand why they immediately recognized him as a stranger. With her frankness, Ksyusha made it clear to those who are striving for high society: don’t try, you won’t get the chance anyway.

However, this is still an exceptional case. In simpler cases, every newcomer who wants to join a certain circle has every chance of doing so.

After the first inhabitants settle in the establishment - 100-200 permanent clientele - the next wave begins to follow them: acquaintances, acquaintances of acquaintances, acquaintances of acquaintances... A certain number of casual visitors, attracted by evening programs or its pricing policy. Then those who have “heard a lot” come and also stay. Those whose behavioral code and lifestyle actually corresponds to the atmosphere of the establishment automatically become “insiders” - that is, accepted by the original crowd and employees of the establishment (who in such places, as a rule, communicate closely with visitors). But besides them, in any establishment there is a constant ballast of visitors whom the “locals” refuse to accept into their circle. “These people do not belong to the party itself, but are trying to position themselves as its characters,” reflects a regular at one of the popular Moscow clubs. “And since they don’t really feel what the essence of the party they are trying to be part of is, everything results in imitation based on external characteristics. This looks bad, because in the end the codes are still read incorrectly. And while such people are a minority in the establishment, the core of the party feels comfortable. And when these people fill the entire place and elbow you in the aisles, the party goes away.”

The Great Exodus

The party always leaves. The “first life” of an establishment is from one to three years, depending on the literacy of management. The first life ends at the moment when the owner of the establishment himself begins to treat his brainchild as an established business. The place makes a profit, the soul of the owner strives for new horizons, the soul of the party strives for new places. Then the establishment may have a second or third life, but those who were initially associated with the image of the place no longer care about it. Just like the newly arriving crowd sooner or later forgets “their heroes.”

“We encountered something that we initially did not expect: over the two years of FAQ-café’s existence, the blogger audience we were initially targeting has become much younger. Initially these were people from 25 to 40, but now they are all 18-20 years old. And they come to us and make this place theirs. The first visitors are being washed away by a more aggressive audience - a normal, natural evolution. After all, FAQ is a very democratic place, low prices. In addition, our focus on creative people and people who actively “sympathize” with creativity has been fully preserved. The students who started coming to us are creative young people, and only their age distinguishes them from the first visitors. And FAQ-café provides them with a platform for creativity, an opportunity to realize and show themselves, which is very important for them,” says Tatyana Khalevina, art director of FAQ-cafe. “Of course, we also take care of our first, beloved visitors. But we understand that this audience has already gone in search of a new place, and it is in our interests that we open this place, and not someone else.”

The party always leaves from somewhere, not somewhere. The same people, numbering no more than five thousand, who have the mobile phone number of their favorite restaurateur in their notebook, live in the same places, smoothly flowing from one establishment to another.

Some are raving about the OGI Project from five years ago, others are sad about Coffee In. Someone is sad when passing by “Gogol” and remembering how good and how fresh the celery was here three years ago. Some people cherish “PiROGI” on Dmitrovka from the times when the first LiveJournal users organized speed-drinking vodka competitions there. And “Propaganda” of the late nineties is not at all what it is now. Almost each of us has a place where we underwent an initiation rite, joining the orderly ranks of regulars. There are favorite bartenders who have long disappeared from view, and a manager who was the first to remember your name. There is a right to a credit and a big discount, and there is a certain arrogance that allows us, rightfully, to enter our favorite establishment, look around, exclaim indignantly: “Whose children are all these?” - and go in search of a new place suitable for an evening life. At least for the next year.

See also about informal communities:

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