“Furry Gold”

At first glance, for the cultured reader, the title might evoke associations with Jason’s Golden Fleece, and maybe even with the sunny shores of ancient Greece. However, "furry gold" is how a well-known Moscow pimp refers to young women with model-like appearances.

For a time, this pimp was quite a visible figure in the public sphere — frequently shown on TV and doling out interviews like candy. It might sound bizarre, but in Putin’s Russia, such things are quite possible. Sure, some youth-oriented music channels tried to dress him up as something else, but after five minutes of watching, even the most naïve viewer could see the wolf under the sheep’s clothing.

Here’s the story: this pimp didn’t just line up call girls for MPs and oligarchs — he sent the most beautiful ones to Europe, and the U.S., where they were “married off” to wealthy and — more importantly — powerful men. These men knew how to say thank you, showering their “matchmaker” with lavish rewards.

Naturally, all these successful marriages were arranged with operational support from KGB agents. Of course, Moscow also cultivated a circle of cultural gatekeepers — artists, writers, and entertainers — whose job was to sugarcoat these transactional relationships, adding a touch of romantic flair. A perfect example of this is the novel The Ideal. Even though it’s by a famous French author, in Russia — and especially in Moscow — he’s better known as a close buddy of a top Kremlin propagandist.

In general, we believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (footnote: the president of one of the world’s largest countries) has two favourite international projects that aren’t directly related to his day-to-day governance: the German band Ramstein (spelled with one “m” — he insists), and a supermodel named Natalia. We'll leave the "great German band" for another time. But Natalia and her glittery lifestyle are Exhibit A in the KGB work discussed here.

Let me clarify right away: we’ve never seen classified KGB files, because we don’t collaborate with scum. (Footnote: by “scum,” we don’t mean all Russians (that would be Nazism), nor all intelligence agents worldwide (that would be idiotic), but only the loyal hounds of the regime — because that's the truth.)

Every claim in this piece comes from the media (including Russian-language outlets) and our knowledge of how the game is played in Russia — in the country where we were born.

Now, back to our heroine. Outside the catwalk, Natalia is best known for her Cinderella story — the “poor girl” who accidentally fell into the arms of a British aristocrat. This narrative, pushed endlessly in the Russian press (likely by her PR team), is so saccharine it could give you cavities.

Anyone even slightly familiar with the fashion industry — and especially Russian scouting agencies — can’t help but burst out in laughter. Come on... We all know how these "accidents" happen, and what many of these young women go through to land a contract.

Yes, some girls have an easier ride, and some go through hell, but the system remains the same. And as for a poor childhood... 80% of Russian kids who grew up in the ’80s and ’90s were poor. The rest were just slightly better off. I, for example, once found an enormous mushroom in the forest and fed my entire family with it because we had nothing else, but you won't see me milking that story for the next three decades.

According to Russian media, once Natalia realized her aristocratic husband wasn’t as loaded as she’d hoped, she ditched him — her sick husband, right in the middle of his rehabilitation, no less. That scummy behaviour was represented in Russian media as a brave act by a true heroine. To this day, I still don’t understand why.

After leaving her sick husband at rock bottom, our starlet returned to Moscow, where she was an instant hit — especially with the execs at Channel One, one of the Kremlin's sleaziest propaganda machines. But clearly, the KGB didn’t groom this "radiant woman" just for domestic fame. Within a month (give or take — I just remember being struck by the speed), she, once again, absolutely by accident, ended up tangled up with a French fashion tycoon’s son.

So, this time it wasn’t the tycoon himself, but just a son (and not even the only heir). Through the KGB’s primitive lens, Natalia was already seen as “used goods” — “old,” “worn,” and “dragging baggage.” (Our view on this differs sharply from that of the modern KGB, just like at everything else.) The son of the famous French magnate had no money issues (at least, Russian media made no fuss), and Natalia settled in. Her new family’s fashion conglomerate even backed her idea to bring her friend’s label to Paris. The launch was picture-perfect — the designer friends even walked their kids down the runway in elegant vintage dresses. But then things started to fall apart.

First, Natalia’s friend, married to a Russian oligarch, found herself with a downgraded husband. The billionaire became a millionaire (footnote: technically a year after their divorce, but anyone who’s handled more than 10 euros knows how these things go). The “unfortunate” friend had to dump him. Boo-hoo. What a loyal comrade!

Then came a PR disaster. The brand was accused of racism. Naomi Campbell refused to work with them, and key staff members quit like rats from a sinking ship. Natalia quickly distanced herself from the brand, as loyal friends do. So, no fashion shows were held the following season, as the sources were minimal (apparently, financial support from Natalia and her beloved’s family had also stopped).

Later, during the sanctions war against Russia and Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Natalia was spotted... back in Russia, celebrating her hometown’s 800th anniversary. She appeared on stage in a luxurious gown, while her powerful patron (yes, the one who looks like a rat) clapped tenderly from the audience.

Surprised? You shouldn’t be. While Western governments were freezing assets and boycotting Moscow, a member of a French billionaire family was dancing onstage with Russia’s political elite. And that’s just nothing else, but the family’s politics.

For context: When the war in Ukraine broke out and brands pulled out of Russia, this particular conglomerate quietly kept its stores open. You just needed a phone call to get in. Meanwhile, their PR team performed its little moral puppet show for Western audiences.

The flagship brand of this conglomerate — the one that tastelessly slaps its monogram on everything — is considered iconic among Russian officials. I bet you won’t find more of their sports bags anywhere than in a high-end gym in Moscow — carried by officials, their wives, and even their mistresses. After all, loyalty to the Leader and his favourite projects comes in many forms.

Things hit the fan shortly after the doddering dictator fully snapped and launched the Ukraine invasion. That same fashion house dropped a line of jewelry featuring the letter "Z" — the symbol painted on Russian tanks rolling into Kyiv.

(Shoutout to the Russian soldiers! If you’re reading this now, turn those tanks around and head to Moscow, or wherever the Bunker Fossil is hiding.)

The brand’s Instagram exploded with Russians commenting, “We are Russian, God are with us!” Apparently, in this case, God is being the rodent-faced dictator. So yes — he stood by his muse, and now she stands by him. Touching, isn’t it?

Eventually, the brand’s PR team issued a limp apology. But come on — no one that high up in fashion releases "Z" jewelry by accident. They knew exactly what they were doing. Bastards. (Just IMHO)

The mad old man in power is pleased, the model likely got a nice bonus (in Russia, officials show appreciation in cash), and Ukrainians kept dying. But hey — the radiant model and her billionaire in-laws proved their loyalty to the senile tyrant.

Here's the cherry on top: this same conglomerate donated €200 million to restore Notre-Dame Cathedral. Our Orthodox (?) heroine — now a mother of aristocratic offspring — attended the reopening with her family. And now, above the Catholic cathedral, stands a rooster — the symbol of reform. Funny how whoever pays the bill gets to set the tone.

Oh, and by the way, that KGB atheist is shacking up now with a 16-year-old schoolgirl. He even sent Russian specialists to help restore the cathedral. One can bet these experts were carefully selected — some likely even briefed by his favourite agency. (Footnote: there were likely a few innocent ones included — the KGB loves mixing in some “clean faces” to camouflage the dirty work.)

The cathedral reopening felt less like a sacred event and more like a laser show. (The old man has a thing for light shows, and even has a dedicated room for them in one of his palaces.)

Big money equals big influence. The Notre-Dame example is just the tip of the iceberg. Imagine how many other shady operations the KGB has pulled off thanks to Natalia and her adopted billionaire clan. What’s truly baffling is: do the French — the nation that gave the world the ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity — want to live under the KGB’s thumb?

I got out of it. I escaped the old man, and now I just can't wait to see the old rat in The Hague. Thanks for reading, bunker boy.

Final Thought:

If you don’t feel an overwhelming urge to support a fascist warmonger, don’t buy from this conglomerate. No need to burn what you already own — their markups are savage and you’ll regret the waste.But if you can, drop it off at a second-hand store. Hopefully, soon, second-hand shops will be overflowing with their ugly bags. They’re headed for a total meltdown. It would be the most fashionable form of justice in times of recession.