A feeling of something-not-quite-right-ness has been following me for a while. This time it could not be put down the jars of pickle and honey covered in dust and with a sell-by-date long expired in the shops. Nor an odd word here or there. Something that has changed in my behaviour. My friend pointed it out quite beautifully , 'You have become a girly girl. When you got here we found lots of interesting topics to talk about. Then something happened.' I haven't stopped reading classics or discussing philosophy or racing men in the swimming pool. However, I have started to talk about boys, as 'boys', as they would be sung about in a pop song, especially the song 'Boyz Boyz Boyz'. This is through the awful influence of the some of the so-called glamour girls that perambulate down streets of dear St Pete.
I suddenly realised that I had been indecentally exposing myself on the streets of St Pete when one friend told me.'I would feel naked without make-up if I had your complexion. I feel naked for you.'. I was forced to attend Russian make-up workshops where intricate layers of mystic creams are spread on, each with it's own softening, glistening, perfecting, eye-widening or clarifying function. All with the intention to bewitch, enchant, ensnare. The precious Russian husband. After the eye-liner, shadow, lip-stick, foundation and magic creams my face was perfectly Russian. 'My goodness, you look like a prostitute!' said the friend concerned with my bareness. 'I'm afraid to walk through the streets with you now. Please wash it off before you walk home.' Like the men trying to be Marilyn Monroe-esque in 'Some Like It Hot', my attempts at the Russian brand of femininity are clearly doomed to failure.
Men strut around with the prize-bull awareness that they are men in a city with a surplus of beautiful, glamourous women seeking a husband. A foreign colleague said , 'I looked at myself and realised I had two options, I could either join a gym or go to Russia.' Some Russian women get excited about foreign men - there's too few Russians and 40% of those are alcoholics -in a way that Russian men just wouldn't bother getting excited about foreign women. 'Our women know how to dress perfectly and look after the family. You'll never see a Russian girl with laddered tights'.It is common for foreign girls to get an inferiority complex and for men to walk away with relaxed indifference. A common chat up line/friendly conversation starter is , 'Are you really English? Are there actually other beautiful girls in England? I thought they were all ugly.' On the contrary, English men are apparently unfailingly cultured and handsome.
When Russians are accompanying (it's easy to get the feeling that you are being accompanied) a woman they act the man with perfect courtesy; holding doors, carrying bags, paying entry. When you are a stranger they sometimes simply shoulder past you on the street. I've been nearly catapulted by puffer-coated, high-speed men clearing their path along icy streets,
Jeans and trainers are (thank goodness) are rarer than in Europe. I barely touched a pair of jeans until May. Constantly wearing dresses must have a feminising influence on the brain. They require more attention to posture and comportment than trousers or jeans. In jeans you can tear around and perch your derriere down however and wherever you wish.
While in Russia, I had a noticeable lack of male friends and flocks of lovely female friends. To counter this perceived lack and provide some humour, my farewell to Russia was a moustache party, male Salvador-Dali-esque dress obligatory, 'That way we'll all be men and counter the gender imbalance!' The twist in the tale occured when some-how, due to various holidays, forgotten invites, random encounters of cruise boat musicians, friends of friends, and an unpredictable French roommate , the party had far too many real men. 'You'd better not leave,' I said to some remaining women as the XY content of the party dangerously dwindled. 'Or I'll be left alone with all these men!'
*This entry contains many generalisations for the sake of simplicity, the fun of gross cultural comparison and humour. Of course, the situation between men and women and such in Russian is far more complex than can be discussed here.
