You're reading: Staring down face control

Is face control a security measure or height of chic?

Kyiv’s clubs are no strangers to big, beefy bouncers. In any venue where young people consume alcohol and jump around, security is a must. But increasingly, local clubs are touting something called “face control.” It has become a mark of quality and chic. It is used to set a given club apart from the pack.

In the West, the phrase “face control” means that bouncers will be doing more than simply keeping the peace. It means exclusivity. It means one must be of a certain type – either through manner of dress, physical attractiveness or social profile – in order to enter the hallowed confines of a club. It is the most superficial of judgments, but in contemporary society, it is the paradigm of “cool.”

The phrase itself has entered the local vocabulary intact. It is not translated, but transliterated. It joins such odious additions to the Russian language as “bucks,” “shaping” and “weekend.”

But what exactly does the mystery phrase mean? Which faces must be controlled? By what social ruler is the worthiness of prospective clubbers measured?

Face control is a relatively new invention in Kyiv. Traditionally, entry fees and drink prices were so disproportionate to the local economy, they catered to an exclusive group. Entry fees of Hr 50 and cocktails at Hr 20 a pop at places such as Desperados, Dynamo Lux and the now defunct Harley Club kept crowds small.

But the local economy is changing, and clubs themselves are changing to meet new needs.

“There are more Ukrainians who are going out, who like to go out, and they’re looking for quality,” said Eric Aigner who has been operating bars, clubs and restaurants in Kyiv for more than five years.

Places such as Aigner’s Cocktail Bar 111 are looking to incorporate the growing middle class.

“I’d rather have 300 people paying $10 a piece than 30 people paying $100,” Aigner said.

New clubs are investing in identity, not only through decor, but also through narrower musical formats. The days of theme bars with token paraphernalia on the walls and saccharine pop in the air are ending. The new breed hosts special events with guest DJs and high-energy staff in place of striptease-heavy show programs.

There are those in Kyiv who have picked up not only the terminology of Western exclusivity, but the meaning as well.

Mykola Chechuha, director of Show Center A1, a firm that organizes and promotes parties in large clubs, prefers the “European” club system. He throws around words like “stylish” and “classy” to describe his desired clientele. For admission to Chechuha’s parties, he demands that people be “fabulous, enjoyable, interesting to look at and talk with.”

How the intellectual interest of a client is gauged while they are standing in line is unclear. Apparently, not only will you have to be well dressed, but you should also have a brief summary of Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason” at the ready for “interesting” conversation with the bouncers.

But according to the directors of some of Kyiv’s most popular clubs, this emphasis on high style is not really the guiding force behind face control.

“It’s not necessary to be such a stylish person,” said Viktor Aleksandrovich, director of Brasilia. “Those sort of nuances don’t apply here. … [face control] really is a function of discipline.”

Both Aleksandrovich and Aigner agree that face control is more a process of looking for jovial clients who attend clubs to drink and dance in an animated, but peaceful manner.

Aigner is a little more specific about his desired clientele. He tends to favor “people we’ve known for a couple years – regular clients.” According to Aigner, establishing a pool of “our people” is more a means of creating a safe environment than a stylish one.

Initially, his Cocktail Bar 111 had an open door policy. However, after several weeks, the size of the crowds – and the fights that resulted – necessitated that he restrict entry. He instituted a Hr 20 cover charge on Fridays and Saturdays, both as a crowd control measure and to ensure profitability, as about 10 percent of the crowd was not drinking.

Part and parcel with the notion of face control is the phenomenon of the “closed” club. However, more often than not, the “members only” lingo is largely lip service.

Chechuha’s “closed” series of summer parties requires a card for entry, but those cards are readily available at local establishments.

Aigner, too, has recently instituted a card system at 111. He plans to issue 500 to 1,000 ID cards replete with digital photographs. They will be distributed to regular clients and friends of the owners. Prospective club members must have a recommendation from an existing club member. In theory, this will be far more restrictive than previously existing members-only models, but Aigner characterizes the system as a work-in-progress.

Aleksandrovich is blase about Brasilia’s card system. While a card is technically required for entry, they are available for the asking. Aleksandrovich concedes that there is flexibility even at the door.

“The guards only intervene in ‘nuanced’ circumstances,” Aleksandrovich said. “If a young woman shows up without a card and wants to get in … well ….”

What he means is that an attractive woman will always have better luck getting into a club than an average man. If a club is known as a place with a large number of women, it attracts a large number of men who are more apt to be big spenders. In Kyiv, the patriarchy lives on.

And while few club managers would admit to giving preference to foreigners, there is an old formula that still exerts a subtle effect. A foreigner in Kyiv equals money, which in turn means money spent at the bar. This is an equation that is obviously becoming outmoded. However, young Ukrainians, especially students, sometimes report difficulties in gaining admittance to certain clubs.

One club owner even advised a foreign client to speak English at the door of a popular club for easier access.

This may not necessarily be a management directive, but a communication problem between management and the bouncers. Aigner reports that he and partner Viola Kim are often forced to tend the door themselves.

Aleksandrovich also concedes that one of Brasilia’s managers waits in the wings to ensure decisions are made consistent with his wishes.

But face control, at least as it is defined here in Kyiv, seems to be more about “fist” control. It is a means of avoiding the physical trouble that can arise when you pump a roomful of young people full of alcohol. While not exactly consistent with the Western notion of face control, the emergence of face control in Kyiv signals the beginning of a fully developed entertainment culture in which an ever-widening segment of the population can take part.