NEVER before has it been so uncool to be attached in London. Loving, lasting relationships are officially out, as the capital becomes gripped by single fever and a growing band of young women with good jobs, nice homes, fast cars, lively social lives and no lasting emotional attachments put the spin into spinsterhood. It all started with a few dry statements from the country's Office for National Statistics that, of 3.8 million UK women in their thirties, almost a million are single or divorced.
Since then, le tout London has been captivated by the epidemic of chic 30-somethings who have road-tested the men in their lives and found them all wanting. The media has been fast to coin the phrase 'Lone Ranger': she adores her girlfriends, enjoys rollerblading and massages and is deeply attached to her habit of sleeping diagonally in bed.
And nowhere is she represented more strikingly than in the fictitious newspaper columnist, Bridget Jones, who chain smokes, loves a tipple, weighs herself three times a day and is uninterruptedly single. She also has a recurring nightmare that her body will be discovered weeks after her death half eaten by a pet.
vittoria d'alesio PARIS: Other European cities may mock Australia culture but Paris has taken all things Antipodean to their hearts this autumn. The Australian bookshop has just opened on the Left Bank, offering poetry, prose and readings by Aussie literary luminaries - and some New Zealanders.
Cafe Oz, a theme bar cum restaurant featuring Castlemaine XXXX, Fosters, beach volleyball on satellite screens and music from Kylie Minogue and Nick Cave is wowing an eager French public. The outfit has just opened a second branch in Lille. Not to be outdone, Le Figaro newspaper, anxious about Mad Cow Disease, helpfully featured a recipe for Le Kangorou Au Poivre.
anita chaudhuri NEW YORK: Club 124 at 124 East Fourth Street, New York's newest club, doesn't have a door policy. Come to think of it, it doesn't have a door, or a roof, or even walls. The bright idea of dancer/graphic designer Laraine Goodman, 49, the club is rather 'a performance', starring Goodman - who tap dances on a makeshift stage (plywood mat) - and her downstairs neighbour, Mick Drakides, 32, who croons jazz ballads. Club 124, says The New York Times started last year when Goodman took to dancing in the streets. She left a note for Drakides, asking to borrow some jazz CDs. Drakides then turned up ready to croon. The Friday night affair attracts a big audience. But check the weather forecast before you go: there is no singing in the rain.