Words Ruben Wissing
Photography Hitori –Y
It’s the middle of summer. I worm my way into the lengthy queue for the most talked-about nightclub of the Caucasus: Bassiani. Droves of hipsters and ravers are ahead of me, clad in wonderful black outfits, or whichever hedonistic style they happen to feel good in. The contrast with the grey masses out in the street couldn’t be much greater. The searches conducted at the door are pretty thorough — and it’s not so much about whether your face its but rather whether you could be out to cause harm to other clubbers. They’d already checked out my Facebook profile when I bought my ticket, so that they could ensure they weren’t letting in a homophobe or football hooligan.