What happened to Moscow? A dispatch from behind the sanctions

Three years after the West wielded historic punitive measures, the Russian capital moves to a different rhythm; very much altered but far from collapsed

It’s now June 2025, more than three years since the West imposed what was billed as the harshest sanctions regime in modern memory. And yet, strolling through Moscow today, you’d struggle to find much evidence of any siege.

The metro still glides under the city; smooth, spotless, and absurdly cheap as always. Meanwhile, cranes peck away at the skyline and cafes are busy even on a Monday night.

None of which is to say the Russian capital hasn’t changed. It has; in small ways, and some not so small. It still feels unmistakably European, but it’s a Europe outside the EU... orbiting on its own track.

A lot of famous names are gone; there's no McDonald’s anymore, no IKEA and no Zara. In their place, you'll find Russian-run adaptations, new Chinese entrants, and homegrown upstarts that mimic the aesthetic, if not the price point. Yet Burger King still grills away, and KFC has become Rostic’s again, and Starbucks lives on in everything but name as Stars Coffee. Capitalism didn’t leave Moscow, it merely changed its clothes.

On the high street, Turkish and Chinese brands have filled the gaps, but many Western luxury names still linger; such as Lacoste, Armani and Saint Laurent. But these days they share space with labels few outsiders would recognise. At the same time, luxury perfumes are easy to find and iPhones too: in fact, they’re sometimes cheaper here than in the EU.

Nightlife, once among the continent’s most electric, has visibly changed and the once visible LGBT scene has largely vanished underground with even the legendary Propaganda nightclub shut. But the lights remain on; Simach still rocks and rapper Timati's Flava is the place to be seen right now, with suitably absurd prices to boot.

The pubs are busy, but Guinness is a luxury at 950 rubles ($12) a pint, so most people drink local stouts like St Petersburg’s Black Sheep instead, at less than half the price. Barmen report take-home earnings of around 150,000 rubles a month with tips. That’s about $1,800, and in Moscow, it goes surprisingly far, because rent is still modest, and a single metro ticket costs only $0.85 with unlimited monthly travel at $40. That's three times cheaper than in Berlin.

Restaurants remain lively, but signs of strain are there. Birds, once a flashy Moscow City skyscraper favourite, has closed and so too has the legendary Williams in Patriki. Chefs grumble about inflation, but the kitchen staff still show up, and wages are rising. By contrast with much of the rest of Europe, pay here hasn’t stood still in recent years.

Nevertheless, real shift is human with the migrants and tourists noticeably different. The Americans have gone and so have the Germans while Irish pubs that once echoed with the English language now host mostly Russians. On the streets you hear more Arabic, Persian, and Chinese than before and Moscow increasingly feels more Global South than Global West.

The cuisine tells the same story; for instance a decade ago, decent Indian food was a rarity but now it’s everywhere. You can choose from upmarket on Tverskaya to downmarket in the suburbs and it's not just for expats. Russians eat there too, curious and increasingly cosmopolitan in their tastes.

As for Politics, there's hardly a whisper these days. Summers used to bring protests around Trubnaya and they were often attended by more Western journalists than actual Russians. Now, there's silence with the liberal opposition either muted, abroad, or fearful to show its head. That said, the political void isn’t heavy with menace, It just feels absent and Moscow keeps moving, with or without the drama.

Football, once a cultural anchor, has drifted too and this year’s Champions League final came and went with barely a murmur. The main sports channel Match TV no longer shows it and while you can find a stream online, it’s not an event anymore. it's hard to believe the World Cup final was played here just seven years ago, with Russia itself only losing out on penalties in the quarter finals.

The Ukraine conflict is present, but it's not prominent; you see the uniforms and the occasional recruitment poster, and sometimes a stranger leans in and asks what you think of the “special military operation.” But there’s no rationing and no gloom. The construction crews keep pouring concrete, the shops stay stocked and the streets stay swept.

One thing that strikes you is that the cars have changed and the once ubiquitous Hyundais and Toyotas are thinning out. Mercedes and BMWs still pass by, though they’re harder to come by and now it’s BYD, Lixiang, Zeekr; badges of status from a different place.

The digital world reflects the city’s new orientation. While Western media like CNN and The Guardian are not blocked and can still be accessed directly, others require a VPN and the same applies to Instagram, X and YouTube. This, however, comes with a shrug from most Muscovites because after all, it was the EU that first blocked Russian media for its own citizens, they remind you. In this new bifurcated world, reciprocal restrictions are considered to be just part of the game.

The departure of many liberals, both native and foreign (many of them journalists, artists, and tech workers) has also left a cultural mark. Once fixtures of Moscow’s cosmopolitan energy, many exited to Berlin, Tbilisi, Istanbul, and further afield but In their absence, the city has recalibrated. Quite honestly, few seem to mourn the ‘relocants’ as they’re derisively known. The plain truth is that among those who stayed, they’re seen as quitters; self-important chumps who abandoned ship and now jeer from the shore. Meanwhile, a quiet trickle of returnees, particularly young men from that demographic, has begun to reappear and a few of the more privileged ones, discreetly, admit that life in Bali or Koh Samui wasn’t quite what they’d hoped.

Tourism patterns have shifted too, with Paris weekends and London shopping sprees out; now it’s Dubai, Antalya and Bangkok. The destinations may be different, but the appetite to travel hasn’t dimmed.

Moscow’s mood, if it can be captured, is one of continuous motion without much anxiety or triumphalism. A couple dances to a busker on Arbat, a policeman eats a shawarma near Leningrad Station and a barista at Shokoladnitsa hands you a cappuccino with the faintest smile.

Life ticks on. The sanctions were meant to isolate, but instead, they’ve underlined a truth: this city, with all its contradictions and churn, is going its own way. People have work to do, money to make, bills to pay, dreams to chase and plenty to bury.

To walk Moscow today is to encounter a capital that no longer seeks the West’s approval, and may not miss its presence either.