Daze Of Our Lives

Happy Mondays at Embassy Cuisine is your roadmap to understanding aspirational dynamics, the inexplicable need for self-validation, social and hormonal powerplay and that inner sadness everyone seems to be subverting with crisp phony laughter. It’s a fertile well of possibilities everyone wants to drown in. Years later we are still drunk on its unfulfilled promise.

Tuesday cocktails at M Café are polite, civilized, sophisticated. Like two contradictions trapped in the binding spell of a decorously lackluster marriage.

Hip Hop Wednesdays at Embassy is when you channel your inner pseudo gansta to surface with laughably ridiculous upshot. Or you’d endure lukewarm conversations with cheerful hounds at Rock Candy’s French Wednesdays. You’d be in either of the places and wish to be in another. Or you can go bisexual on this: prime at Rock Candy, nightcap at Embassy.

Brazilian Thursdays at Rock Candy is a hit and miss thing. At times it’s a massively fun turn out, certain times you’re aching to be home, watching re-runs.

Predictable Fridays at Ponti will make you have that quaint Nabokov’s Lolita sentiment. And you haven’t hit thirty yet.

Driven Saturdays at Warehouse 135 is a demographic fruit salad. A social buffet marinated in sweaty grinding bodies and pretty young things in a hurry to max out their youthful privileges.

Drowsy Sundays are personal. Indulgent, lazy, a breathing legroom for self acquaintance.