| rev:text
| - I've been here several times. The first time I was immediately impressed- I arrived with a large group for a late dinner and, to my surprise, a vodka tasting. I had never heard of a vodka bar, and had never dreamed of a place with the audacity to go 110% all out on a Soviet-era Communist Russia theme.
Upon looking at the menu and noticing the type of patronage around, I got my first hint of foulness. It was starting to seem a pretty serious place, filled with serious people and serious prices. This particular group of friends I was with are all very affluent, but if anything we seemed a relatively lower caste than the average Pravda-goer.
I was amazed by the absurdity: a bunch of rich people throwing around money as Lenin gazes over them, waitresses twirl through a haze of Communist imagery, tainted by class struggle and dreams of Revolution in a glaringly gaudy panorama, with trays of specialty martinis. This place actually exists. These people are actually taking themselves seriously.
During every interaction with our server I was thanking my lucky stars I wore a decent-looking collared shirt. Despite the absurdity I felt around me, this was not a place for free-wheeling fun- this place is 'upscale' and one must abide by well-established rules in an upscale place. (Half of my humour is immediately rendered useless, and most of my life is without any value to mention). But I could still dig it. To be sure, there were some pretty strict rules in Soviet Russia too.
The vodka tasting was a nice surprise, but in retrospect it was pretty boring. You stand in a small plain cellar (see: large fridge) and drink small amounts of several vodkas for a short period of time among cardboard boxes and shelves. That's it.
What happens later is the only part of the experience I've been back for: the restaurant turns into a club. A packed club. Too packed. One night I had VIP, which was great- you can escape to a breathing space where you're not always rudely bumping or being rudely bumped by someone (a packed 'upscale' place is the worst kind of packed place because everyone's got a f**king attitude). Sometimes I feel VIP is the only way to have fun at any club where people wear collared shirts and make more than 40k- anyone who see's you in a VIP section, staff or patronage have a patent shift in behavior towards you, plus you can actually sit and have some space from time to time- and at Pravda this seems especially so (any other seating/breathing areas that don't become a mountain of coats and purses have established warlords and timeshare communities on guard at all times, and there's no real smoking section to escape to- smokers are just kinda awkwardly on the street). Even getting up and down the super-wide staircase (washrooms are downstairs) is a hell worthy of the Soviet-red ornaments lambasting your journey- this sh*t has to be a fire hazard. Why is everyone on the stairs? Is this a 90's boyband video shoot? Oh no- I get it, this place is just f**king PACKED. smh.
I get a clear impression that many in the crowd of pushing people- it sometimes seems the entire dance floor is filled with people pushing to go somewhere else, probably due to the bar being on the opposite side of the room as the downstairs washrooms, with the dance floor in the middle- many in this crowd may not infact see any irony in drinking 20 dollar double-vodka tonic or whateverthef**k, wearing 15-hundred dollar three-piece suits, underneath a banner of Karl Marx.
I'm no communist, but Pravda's central economics-related theme of proletariat revolution against a lavishly oppressive capitalist overclass really serves to highlight any rich bro douchebaggery, or entitled prick-behavior. And not only am I unsure many people in the swaying crowd see the irony, I'm actually scared some of them are entirely unaware this is a communist-themed club. When not considering more ethical ways to spend one's money, one must drink more and more to combat such a uniquely alienating position, only to find oneself even self-alienated.
Every once in a while I like to go to 'the club' for an experience of mindless egotism and regrettable indulgences, but I'm sure I don't want to go back to Pravda anytime soon. Unless I have VIP.
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