American olympic athletes probably wear technically the best water and wind-proof gear in the world, but they don't dress all adorable walking in the opening ceremonies, which for me is what really counts. For that, the Russians–who are all about spectacle and costume–get the gold. They always have amazing looking outfits during the parade. I've discovered the clothing is not exclusive to the athletes, you can buy it at Bosco stores all over town, there is a store next door to us.
Last winter they had this that looked like a vest a fashion forward Mongolian girl would wear, appliqued, with fur trim down the front and around the bottom, it was to die for. This season, there is a little jacket Camille wants, it's got Russia embroidered on the back, it's cute, it's fleece, it's $200.
"I heard you can buy it at Ismilavo cheap," Peter says. Ismilavo is the all-Russian outdoor market. I've been there a few times and I've never seen it there and as you can see, it's pretty distinctive.
Today at Ismilavo, Peter finds a guy selling fur hats wearing an official coach's jacket and starts talking to him. The guy describes some jackets, and finally says, "Come out to my car and I'll show you what I have."
His trunk is full of official Russian olympic gear, with the patches and the labels and the hangtags and the real fur and the scrumptious fabrics and everything. He shows us warm up suits and the men's ski parka. Not what I'm dying for. Then he pulls out a ladies fur-trimmed jacket similar to the one I was petting in the store, but not in my size. "I have something else," he says, and dives back into the trunk.
I can't wait for the olympics, I love them. This will be our first time being able to watch another country's broadcast. The event I'm mostly looking forward to? Who out-patriotics who, Russia vs the US. As the guy searches in his trunk, I'm picturing us all in matching Russian olympic team hats, cheering for both sides.
Then the three of us notice a car has just pulled up and someone is getting out to talk to us. The police. They ask to see the guy's documents, and Peter and I walk away, back inside the market to be amid the matroushkas and painted trays. I don't often get to end my stories, "And then the cops came."
As far as the olympic gear goes, I think I'll just wait until after Christmas, when Bosco has huge mark downs. Maybe we'll get something by February 12th to wear while watching the opening ceremonies. I'll be the one waving the guilt-free flag.
twenty-something years of "what have you been up to?" 
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