Apparently, there is a Russian saying which goes along the lines of: “There can be no ugly women, There can only be not enough vodka. There cannot be too much vodka, There can only be not enough vodka” and indeed if I think of Russia, I think of stamping my feet in the Red Square, beneath the majesty of St Basils as the snow falls softly, swigging a cold shot of vodka and feeling the heat blush my cheeks.
As for whether it makes women and the world more attractive, well, I am not sure. Certainly I have felt a transcendence, a one-ness with the world and all that is beautiful in it… right before being violently sick.
Because to me, there is something about vodka that is pure and clean but harsh and brutal. For every one night of delirious fun and joyful dancing, refreshed and sharpened by vodka, there have been pounding, skull-splitting hangovers and waves of regret at my antics the night before…
Anton Chekov said that “Money, like vodka, turns a person into an eccentric.” It’s sort-of the femme fatale of booze – alluring, icy and fun but dangerous and certainly, not to be trifled with.
It also makes some of my favourite drinks: The White Russian, the Cosmopolitan, the Moscow Mule, the Martini… at uni I used to drink a lot of “Quad-Vods” too. A dangerous, and frankly illegal, cocktail that consisted of a pint glass filled with 4 shots of vodka and topped with cheapo orange juice and priced at a deranged £2. Those were nutty times and true to the Russian Saying, after a number of quad-vods all of the women and men looked beautiful (apart from probably me!)