MOSCOW — Money or no money, Eduard Strizhev wanted his Porsche.
Stocks were collapsing downtown; the airwaves groaned with grim economic news; Russian finances teetered on the back of slumping oil prices and a global credit crunch. But why dwell on dreariness? Strizhev and his wife strolled serenely over the polished floors of the Porsche showroom, signed a few papers and drove off in their brand new Cayenne.
Sure, Strizhev's accounting firm drew fewer clients this month. He was starting to think he shouldn't have bought his home with a mortgage -- that wasn't much of a deal he got from the bank. And, true, he already owned a year-and-a-half-old Cayenne.
But Strizhev would rather discuss the custom paint job on his new ride. See how it looks black in the shade? And how, when the sun strikes the hood, you can see the olive green undertones? Strizhev grinned, and dismissed the economy with a shrug.
"On the whole, we don't feel the strength of this crisis," he said, and climbed into the posh cavern of the car. "We're just not feeling the strain so far."
Call it denial, call it bravado. Ignoring a drumbeat of dismal financial tidings, some Muscovites continue to blow their rubles and petrodollars with aplomb, spending with the trademark abandon that's turned this oil and gas boomtown into a notorious hub of opulence and hedonism.
From the Ritz-Carlton hotel to the luxury boutiques of Red Square, consumers and salespeople alike last week shrugged off fears of a crisis. Tomorrow will take care of itself. As long as there's cash in hand, Russians will go ahead and buy.
"Not every crisis will bring us down," said Oleg Uvarin, an interior designer who charges wealthy clientele upward of $800 a square foot. "Through history, rich Russians have always lived lavishly. Russia will always be in the money."
It was a cold, bleak day in the Russian capital, and Uvarin strolled the GUM shopping arcades. Icy autumn rain drilled through the towering glass ceiling and dripped into puddles on the floor. Charwomen shoved mops fruitlessly; women stepped around the water, indifferent in towering heels.
A massive hulk of commerce perched across the way from Lenin's tomb, GUM was the storied, grim epicenter of Soviet shopping. Today, its halls brim with luxury goods from around the world, clothes and jewelry and cosmetics.
