There is even a gripping fashion family saga to catch up on; Slava Zaitsev, a nationally famous, Soviet-era design veteran who favours metallic suits and whose collection was the first to be presented at the Manege, sat front-row at the show of his grand-daughter Maroussia Zaitseva. As Zaitseva's models skipped up the catwalk, pretending to shiver as they showcased her selection of softly tailored check dresses, fringed skirts and a red-dyed cowhide show-closer, the guest next to me reported that following a tiff with his son (also a designer), Zaitsev is nurturing his granddaughter to become Russia's next big thing.
The only thing missing was the journalists - at most of the shows, there seemed to be barely any around.
According to Alexander Shumsky, the manager who founded this fashion week in 2001 with just 20 designers, Russia's glossy magazines are missing a trick by not following the home-grown designers on his schedule more assiduously. He sniffs: "For some editors, it is more important to be seen in Milan than in Moscow."
But as one magazine fashion editor, who will remain anonymous for the sake of local diplomacy, said: "We are asked to be patriotic, but I prefer to be professional.
"We cannot be too partisan. Our job is to look for clothes that are good, modern, and fresh - not just clothes that are Russian. That would be a provincial point of view."
And what, about those It-girls? "They are just rich men's wives."
Buoyed by public enthusiasm (45,000 people visited the shows that week, apparently), packed with beautiful people, and riven with caste-based cliquery: Russia's fashion week really isn't all that different from London, Milan or Paris.
