“Do they still exist?”: Ksenia Novikova returned to the “Brilliant” group. Dear Me

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Ksenia Novikova
Ksenia Novikova at the presentation of Anna Semenovich's new video July 6, 2011
basic information
Full name	Ksenia Andreevna Novikova
Date of Birth	May 17, 1980(1980-05-17) (age 40)
Place of Birth	Moscow, RSFSR, USSR
Years of activity	1985 - present time
A country	Russia, Russia
Professions	singer, actress, poetess, model, music producer, teacher, public figure
Genres	variety, pop music
Teams	“Class” (1990-1998) “Brilliant” (1999-2007; 2011-2015) “Ksyusha” (2015 - present)
Cooperation	Andrey Grozny Vladislav Medyanik[1]
[knovikova.ru Official website]
Audio, photo, video on Wikimedia Commons

Ksenia Andreevna Novikova

(born May 17, 1980, Moscow) is a Russian singer, former lead singer of the Russian female group Blestyaschiye. Soloist and music producer of the female pop group “Ksyusha”. From 1990 to 1998 she was a member of the group “Class”.

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Singles

"There, only there"
"Fog"
"Flowers"
"Clouds"
"Cha-cha-cha"
“Where are you, where?”
"New Year"
“Ciao, bambina!”
“Winter will come after autumn”
"Dear Helmsman"
“Ciao, bambina” (Disco Crash Remix)
"White Snow"
"I've been waiting for you for a long time"
"Ay-ay"
"Beyond the Four Seas"
“And I kept flying”
"Orange Song"
"New Year's Song"
"Palm trees in pairs"
"My brother is a paratrooper"
"Oriental Tales"
"Agent 007"
"Tili dough"
"Classmates"
"You know, honey"
"Ball"
"Morning"
"Love"
"My dear"
"From what"
"Green eyes"
"Birthday"
"Towards the Equator"
"Lose"
"Don't give me to anyone"
"Brigade of Painters"

Former members

Varvara Koroleva (1995-1996)
Polina Iodis (1995-1998)
Olga Orlova (1995—2000)
Irina Lukyanova (1996—2003)
Zhanna Friske (1996—2003)
Anna Semenovich (2003—2007)
Ksenia Novikova (1999—2007; 2011—2015)
Yulia Kovalchuk (2001—2007)
Natalia Asmolova (2007; 2015)
Natalia Friske (2007-2008)
Yulianna Lukasheva (2008-2009)
Anna Dubovitskaya (2008—2011)
Anastasia Osipova (2007—2015)

Compositions of the group "Brilliant"

About fragrances

I believe that you always need to change. There are some aromas that are associated with us, but everything does not last forever - you have to be different, always surprise with something new. But there must be a scent that will stick with you forever - people will feel it somewhere and remember you.

I'm still looking for an iconic scent - perhaps because my worldview often changes. But one of my favorites is Another 13, Le Labo. It has always been sold only in the Colette boutique in Paris. But it is not suitable for everyone and is revealed differently for everyone. You either adore him or you can't stand him. In general, I like everything unique, unusual - I like to be different from others.

My first perfume was L'Impèratrice, Dolce & Gabbana. For a long time I used Bal d'Afrique, Byredo - such a girlish, delicate scent. But it seems to me that he remains somewhere far away, no longer suits my feelings and character.

Another great sweet scent is Baccarat Rouge. In general, I love everything sweet - what I want to eat. But I don’t like the famous chocolate Montale – it’s not my thing.

Finding your scent is very difficult - there are so many of them.
And the smell of a woman is as important as her skin. It should not just be the smell of perfume, but a chemical reaction - so that the perfume mixes with the aroma of your body. Interview and text: Anastasia Speranskaya

Excerpt characterizing Novikov, Ksenia Andreevna

- Yes, I saw him just now. She was obviously unable to speak and made signs with her hands to leave her. Pierre did not stay for dinner, but immediately left the room and left. He went around the city to look for Anatoly Kuragin, at the thought of whom all the blood now rushed to his heart and he had difficulty catching his breath. In the mountains, among the gypsies, among the Comoneno, it was not there. Pierre went to the club. In the club everything went on as usual: the guests who had come to dine sat in groups and greeted Pierre and talked about city news. The footman, having greeted him, reported to him, knowing his acquaintance and habits, that a place had been left for him in the small dining room, that Prince Mikhail Zakharych was in the library, and Pavel Timofeich had not arrived yet. One of Pierre's acquaintances, between talking about the weather, asked him if he had heard about Kuragin's kidnapping of Rostova, which they talk about in the city, is it true? Pierre laughed and said that this was nonsense, because he was now only from the Rostovs. He asked everyone about Anatole; one told him that he had not come yet, the other that he would dine today. It was strange for Pierre to look at this calm, indifferent crowd of people who did not know what was going on in his soul. He walked around the hall, waited until everyone had arrived, and without waiting for Anatole, he did not have lunch and went home. Anatole, whom he was looking for, dined with Dolokhov that day and consulted with him on how to correct the spoiled matter. It seemed to him necessary to see Rostova. In the evening he went to his sister to talk with her about the means to arrange this meeting. When Pierre, having traveled all over Moscow in vain, returned home, the valet reported to him that Prince Anatol Vasilich was with the countess. The Countess's living room was full of guests. Pierre, without greeting his wife, whom he had not seen since his arrival (she hated him more than ever at that moment), entered the living room and, seeing Anatole, approached him. “Ah, Pierre,” said the countess, approaching her husband. “You don’t know what situation our Anatole is in...” She stopped, seeing in her husband’s low-hanging head, in his sparkling eyes, in his decisive gait that terrible expression of rage and strength that she knew and experienced in herself after the duel with Dolokhov. “Where you are, there is debauchery and evil,” Pierre said to his wife. “Anatole, let’s go, I need to talk to you,” he said in French. Anatole looked back at his sister and stood up obediently, ready to follow Pierre. Pierre took him by the hand, pulled him towards him and walked out of the room. “Si vous vous permettez dans mon salon, [If you allow yourself in my living room,” Helen said in a whisper; but Pierre left the room without answering her. Anatole followed him with his usual, dashing gait. But there was noticeable concern on his face. Entering his office, Pierre closed the door and turned to Anatole without looking at him. – You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and wanted to take her away? “My dear,” Anatole answered in French (as the whole conversation went), I do not consider myself obligated to answer interrogations made in such a tone. Pierre's face, previously pale, became distorted with rage. He grabbed Anatole by the collar of his uniform with his large hand and began to shake him from side to side until Anatole’s face took on a sufficient expression of fear. “When I say that I need to talk to you...” Pierre repeated. - Well, this is stupid. A? - said Anatole, feeling the collar button that had been torn off with the cloth. “You are a scoundrel and a scoundrel, and I don’t know what holds me back from the pleasure of crushing your head with this,” said Pierre, “expressing himself so artificially because he spoke French.” He took the heavy paperweight in his hand and raised it threateningly and immediately hastily put it back in its place. – Did you promise to marry her? - I, I, I didn’t think; however, I never promised, because... Pierre interrupted him. - Do you have her letters? Do you have any letters? - Pierre repeated, moving towards Anatole. Anatole looked at him and immediately, putting his hand in his pocket, took out his wallet. Pierre took the letter handed to him and, pushing away the table that was standing on the road, fell onto the sofa. “Je ne serai pas violent, ne craignez rien, [Don’t be afraid, I won’t use violence,” said Pierre, responding to Anatole’s frightened gesture. “Letters – one,” said Pierre, as if repeating a lesson to himself. “Second,” he continued after a moment of silence, getting up again and starting to walk, “you must leave Moscow tomorrow.” “But how can I…” “Third,” Pierre continued without listening to him, “you must never say a word about what happened between you and the countess.” This, I know, I cannot forbid you, but if you have a spark of conscience... - Pierre silently walked around the room several times. Anatole sat at the table and bit his lips with a frown. “You can’t help but finally understand that besides your pleasure there is happiness, the peace of other people, that you are ruining your whole life because you want to have fun. Have fun with women like my wife - with these you are in your right, they know what you want from them. They are armed against you with the same experience of depravity; but to promise a girl to marry her... to deceive, to steal... Don’t you understand that this is as vile as killing an old man or a child!... Pierre fell silent and looked at Anatole no longer with an angry, but a questioning look. - I do not know this. A? - said Anatole, cheering up as Pierre overcame his anger. “I don’t know this and I don’t want to know,” he said, without looking at Pierre and with a slight trembling of his lower jaw, “but you told me these words: vile and the like, which I comme un homme d’honneur [as an honest man ] I won’t let anyone. Pierre looked at him in surprise, unable to understand what he needed. “Although it was face to face,” Anatole continued, “but I can’t...” “Well, do you need satisfaction?” - Pierre said mockingly. “At least you can take back your words.” A? If you want me to fulfill your wishes. A? “I’ll take it back,” said Pierre, and I ask you to excuse me. Pierre glanced involuntarily at the torn button. - And money, if you need it for the trip. – Anatole smiled. This expression of a timid and mean smile, familiar to him from his wife, exploded Pierre. - Oh, vile, heartless breed! – he said and left the room. The next day Anatole left for St. Petersburg. Pierre went to Marya Dmitrievna to report the fulfillment of her wish - the expulsion of Kuragin from Moscow. The whole house was in fear and excitement. Natasha was very ill, and, as Marya Dmitrievna told him in secret, on the same night it was announced to her that Anatole was married, she poisoned herself with arsenic, which she quietly obtained. Having swallowed a little of it, she was so frightened that she woke up Sonya and told her what she had done. In time, the necessary measures were taken against the poison, and now she was out of danger; but still she was so weak that it was impossible to think of taking her to the village and they sent for the countess. Pierre saw the confused count and the tear-stained Sonya, but could not see Natasha. Pierre had lunch at the club that day and heard talk from all sides about an attempt to kidnap Rostova and stubbornly refuted this talk, assuring everyone that nothing more happened than that his brother-in-law proposed to Rostova and was refused. It seemed to Pierre that it was his responsibility to hide the whole matter and restore Rostova’s reputation. He fearfully awaited the return of Prince Andrei and every day he came to see the old prince about him. Prince Nikolai Andreich knew through M lle Bourienne all the rumors circulating around the city, and read that note to Princess Marya, which Natasha refused to her fiancé. He seemed more cheerful than usual and was looking forward to his son with great impatience. A few days after Anatole's departure, Pierre received a note from Prince Andrei, notifying him of his arrival and asking Pierre to come see him. Prince Andrei, having arrived in Moscow, at the very first minute of his arrival received from his father a note from Natasha to Princess Marya, in which she refused the groom (she stole this note from Princess Marya and gave it to Prince m lle Bourienne) and heard from his father, with additions, stories about the abduction Natasha. Prince Andrei arrived the evening before. Pierre came to him the next morning. Pierre expected to find Prince Andrei in almost the same position in which Natasha was, and therefore he was surprised when, entering the living room, he heard from the office the loud voice of Prince Andrei, animatedly saying something about some kind of St. Petersburg intrigue. The old prince and another voice occasionally interrupted him. Princess Marya came out to meet Pierre. She sighed, pointing her eyes at the door where Prince Andrei was, apparently wanting to express her sympathy for his grief; but Pierre saw from Princess Marya’s face that she was glad both about what happened and about how her brother accepted the news of his bride’s betrayal. “He said he expected it,” she said. “I know that his pride will not allow him to express his feelings, but still better, much better, he endured it than I expected.” Apparently, this was how it had to be... - But is it really all over? - said Pierre. Princess Marya looked at him in surprise. She didn’t even understand how she could ask about this. Pierre entered the office. Prince Andrei, very changed, obviously healthier, but with a new, transverse wrinkle between his eyebrows, in civilian dress, stood opposite his father and Prince Meshchersky and argued heatedly, making energetic gestures. It was about Speransky, news of whose sudden exile and alleged betrayal had just reached Moscow. “Now he (Speransky) is being judged and accused by all those who admired him a month ago,” said Prince Andrei, “and those who were not able to understand his goals.” It is very easy to judge a person in disgrace and blame him for all the mistakes of another; and I will say that if anything good has been done during the current reign, then everything good has been done by him - by him alone. “He stopped when he saw Pierre. His face trembled and immediately took on an angry expression. “And posterity will give him justice,” he finished, and immediately turned to Pierre. - How are you? “You’re getting fatter,” he said animatedly, but the newly appeared wrinkle was carved even deeper on his forehead. “Yes, I’m healthy,” he answered Pierre’s question and grinned. It was clear to Pierre that his smile said: “I’m healthy, but no one needs my health.” Having said a few words with Pierre about the terrible road from the borders of Poland, about how he met people in Switzerland who knew Pierre, and about Mr. Desalles, whom he brought from abroad as his son’s teacher, Prince Andrei again heatedly intervened in the conversation about Speransky , which continued between two old men. “If there had been treason and there had been evidence of his secret relations with Napoleon, then they would have been publicly announced,” he said with vehemence and haste. – I personally do not like and did not like Speransky, but I love justice. - Pierre now recognized in his friend the all-too-familiar need to worry and argue about a matter alien to himself, only in order to drown out too heavy spiritual thoughts. When Prince Meshchersky left, Prince Andrei took Pierre's arm and invited him into the room that was reserved for him. The room had a broken bed and open suitcases and chests. Prince Andrei went up to one of them and took out a box. From the box he took out a bundle in paper. He did everything silently and very quickly. He stood up and cleared his throat. His face was frowning and his lips were pursed. “Forgive me if I’m bothering you...” Pierre realized that Prince Andrei wanted to talk about Natasha, and his broad face expressed regret and sympathy. This expression on Pierre's face angered Prince Andrei; he continued decisively, loudly and unpleasantly: “I received a refusal from Countess Rostova, and I heard rumors about your brother-in-law seeking her hand, or the like.” Is it true? “It’s both true and not true,” Pierre began; but Prince Andrei interrupted him.

About hair

If I am a conservative when it comes to facial skin care, I am constantly looking for something new for my hair. When a new shampoo is recommended to me, I always rush to try it because my hair gets tired of the same treatment.

I love Alterna products most of all. But even their line The Science of TEN (after which hair looks like in advertising) should not be used for long - the effect is lost. I really love the MoroccanOil brand – especially their hair oil. It gives amazing shine! If you use it every day, your hair will style better and shimmer beautifully. Surprisingly, my hair doesn’t get used to this oil - I’ve been using it for about seven years.

My hair is quite weak, thin and light. To thicken them, I apply IAU Forti Essence, Lebel serum along the entire length - paying special attention to the ends. Lebel also has an excellent procedure - “happiness for hair”. There is nothing more effective for me today. I don’t believe in all these treatments that are done in 5-10 minutes - you can just as easily apply any conditioner or mask at home.

Now I want to experiment - apply avocado oil from ST BARTH to my hair. In general, it seems to me that we need to return to natural care, work in contrast - while everyone is using new technologies, it’s worth going to the pharmacy and looking for something natural there.