The financial hurricane that swept away savings and whipped up prices leaves Muscovites wondering whether the bubble of plenty that has grown since economic reforms began in 1992 has burst.

``Things have gotten much better compared to the stagnation under (Soviet leader) Leonid Brezhnev,'' said Vsevelod Vorobyev, an engineer in the Moscow metro. ``We only hope we'll get through the crisis, and things will improve even more.''

Advocates of economic reform reject the complaints of many Russians that reform has not worked. The problem, they counter, is that most of Russia has not seen any real reform because of hard-line officials, incompetence and corruption.

Moscow is the one place where the benefits of economic reform have been widely apparent.

Moscow salaries are 65 per cent above the national averageand three times as high as in cities in the poverty stricken agricultural ``red belt'' in central Russia or aging industrial cities in the north.

Even though prices are higher than in many places in Russia, everything is available, even jobs, while in most parts of the country unemployment is growing. And most Muscovites get their salaries on time in a country where people often go without their salary or pension for months.

Russia's banking and financial resources are concentrated in Moscow. Most foreign investment flows through the Capital, and many Russian companies have their headquarters in the Capital, bringing in valuable tax revenue.

As the crisis deepens, however, there are signs of cracks in Moscow's economic boom and the fear that things could get very bad.

``The ones who will be losing now are the ones who gained,'' said former prime minister Yegor Gaidar, who ushered Russia's economic reforms by lifting price controls in January 1992.

For Russians, Moscow has always been another world,a place of power and possibility that represented the great escape from the isolation of the provinces and the promise of a more prosperous life.

In Soviet times, people used to say obtaining a coveted Moscow residency permit or propiska was like having been made a member of the nobility. People concluded fake marriage with Muscovites or endured years in shabby workers' dormitories outside the city in hopes of getting a propiska.

So many people want to live in Moscow that even today in a free Russia, the city government has a registration system designed to keep down the number of people legally allowed to live there. As far as enforcement goes, police can ask to see anyone's documents at any time and they often do.

At a bank branch on stylish Tverskaya street, people have waited every day to fill out forms transferring their savings to the State Savings Bank.

The foreign furniture stores that sprouted all over the city to decorate the apartments of the new wealthy class are largelyempty. So are auto dealerships, and even travel agencies have reported a downturn in business.

``There is a danger Moscow could end up looking like the rest of the country,'' said Tigran Sarkasyan, an Armenian businessmen who has lived in Moscow for five years. ``But I hope not.''

In some neighbourhoods, Moscow is more rundown than when the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991. Deep pockets of poverty remain, especially in working class neighbourhoods in south-eastern Moscow.

Tens of thousands of refugees have flocked to the city, fleeing unrest in parts of Russia and other former Soviet republics. The growing disparities in wealth are shocking to many Russians, even those who support a free market.

Old ladies battling to survive sell toilet paper on the street next to exclusive stores where a pair of men's shoes costs five times more than the average monthly pension.

``Many buildings have been restored, but frankly some of it is over the top,'' said Vorobyev, the metro engineer. ``Look at this,'' hesaid, pointing to a new underground mall next to the Kremlin, ``it's a bit artificial.''