Tribes in the City

There are better ways to spend a Sunday afternoon than to drag my hangover-ed self out of bed and to another party. But that's the way life goes. Invitations, I figured, are like taxis. Sometimes they never come. But when they come, they all do.

The two dos cannot be more different. The first one was a stylish industry dinner on a breezy rooftop terrace by the sea, the crowd was colourful and sophisticated - the kind that know their chardonnay from their chablis. Conversation was of the quote-a-minute variety, flowing like the wine. And after too much of grog, it didn't matter who said what anymore.

Sunday's gathering was held at dear old FJ's apartment, and in many ways, at the other end of the spectrum. The food was buffet-on-burners. There are people I have seen from 15 years ago, looking like your average accountant/engineer/math teacher. And just like 15 years in school before, they were painfully shy and conforming, just armed with PhDs now.

Even Boy remarked on how opposite the two crowds are. I wonder what will happen if you put the sparkly crowd together with the conformists.

In this urban mass, we all have our tribes. People gravitate towards those with the same vibe, dreams and dress sense (or lack of). You don't need the same provenance or jobs, but you need to click. I'm glad I found my tribe. They are somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. They are folks who have drive, but don't take themselves too seriously. Who would devour Fukuyama but adore Furla bags. Who would down 10 shots one night and then sweat it off the next day, only to reward oneself with a huge juicy burger.

Speaking of food, we're heading off to Sydney and a Tetsuya dinner (ok, de-gus-ta-tion) in a month. Joy! It's like the best birthday present I could ever dream of. As they say, half the bliss of a trip is in the anticipation. So it's another month of planning and waiting.