Mazurenko became a founding figure in the modern Moscow nightlife scene, where he promoted an alternative to what Russians sardonically referred to as “Putin’s glamor” — exclusive parties where oligarchs ordered bottle service and were chauffeured home in Rolls-Royces.Kuyda loved Mazurenko’s parties, impressed by his unerring sense of what he called “the moment.” Each of his events was designed to build to a crescendo — DJ Mark Ronson might make a surprise appearance on stage to play piano, or the Italo-Disco band Glass Candy might push past police to continue playing after curfew.But he was also single, and rarely dated, instead devoting himself to the project of importing modern European style to Moscow.Kuyda met Mazurenko in 2008, when she was 22 and the editor of for a newly urbane Moscow.
The company has been looking to expand Messenger into a fully-featured social network of its own, breaking it out into its own app and adding new features like apps and tools to talk to shops.By the time Mazurenko finished college and moved back to Moscow in 2007, Russia had become newly prosperous.The country tentatively embraced the wider world, fostering a new generation of cosmopolitan urbanites.She had struggled with whether she was doing the right thing by bringing him back this way. But ever since Mazurenko’s death, Kuyda had wanted one more chance to speak with him. “You have one of the most interesting puzzles in the world in your hands,” it said. orn in Belarus in 1981, Roman Mazurenko was the only child of Sergei, an engineer, and Victoria, a landscape architect.They remember him as an unusually serious child; when he was 8 he wrote a letter to his descendents declaring his most cherished values: wisdom and justice.