I don't know why I'm Broadway Camilla, but that's what the Mongolian lady who lead the cabaret at Primorski's thought of me.
In her baritone voice she summoned me to the stage to receive my Birsday cake. In a low grumble she looked at me and said, "Do you sink you cun remember wot to do?" If I was clever and not drunk on wodka I would have said, a la Lauren Bacall, "I just put my lips together and blow". Instead I nodded, clapped my hands like a gleeful kid, did a little samba step and blew out the candle to seal the celebrations of my 30th birthday.
It was a stupendous night, totally met my party fantasy. I had a wish of a decadent night eating caviar, drinking free flowing vodka and champagne along with a slew of special dear lovely friends, and that is exactly what happened. Plus we got to add a group of 60 year-old revelers to the mix as well -they couldn't stop fondling our men folk!
Being at Primorski's was like being teleported to St Petersburg in 1959. Hardly any English was spoken outside of our table, dance moves were organic, interpretive and goofy, food was salty, greasy and wiggly, attire was flashy, trashy and decidedly Russian.
We danced, we ate tongue, we poked the "aspic", we ripped dresses, I spilled cola, we did dining table break dancing, and I felt love and happiness all around me.
Perfect.
Milla
1 comment:
Happy birthday! That last shot has a real Last Supper feel to it.
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