The Good, Bad and Ugly of Brisbane Nightlife

Gone, friends, are the days of picking your drinking destination based on it's reasonable prices (Port Office Hotel), absurdly delectable bar staff (Fringe Bar) or incredibly wicked bathroom set-up (Cloudland, here's looking at you - you had to win points somehow...). Now, you'll be making your selection based almost entirely on the calibre of person you'll be associating yourself with by simply showing up and buying a drink or two... or four... or ten. (No judgement.)

Let's be honest here - this is Brisbane. Ultimately, you'll spend your night surrounded by opportunistic drug-users, barely-legal would-be fashionistas and men who just won't take no for an answer. Despite this, there remain ways that you can distinguish the have's from the have-not's in the Brisbane scene. (And trust me,  which caste of societal fuck-ups you choose to associate yourself with is about to become a whole lot more important.)

Notepads at the ready?

The Lad:

THE GOOD You'll spot him the minute you enter the bar, adorned in expensive, well-made casual attired that his mum and/or girlfriend picked out for him from the menswear selection at David Jone's. Every hair on his head will be in it's rightful place; that's the kind of excellent self-presentation that stems from a number of years at Grammar or BBC. You'll probably hear him, no matter how far you are from his person, chanting loudly with his old rowing or rugby team; however, when you observe his body, you'll be disappointed to note that he's not as muscular or tanned as you might hope. He hasn't partaken in sport since he graduated high school - hasn't really had time since he started interning for his father's best friend's firm...

Party tricks: boring you to death with tales of his adventures in Mykonos, even after you admit that you have never been; astounding you with his ability to drop a hundred dollars on Scotch in a single night and yet still refer to himself as a "poor uni student"; unprecedented skill at maintaining a shockingly poor vocabulary, despite his $40,000's worth of education at a prestigious private school.

Where you'll find him: Friday's Riverside

THE BAD Artlessly tousled hair, bad skin, and distastefully-placed body art... need I say more? This lad doesn't quite match up to the grooming standards of his counterparts. The one advantage he holds is his slightly more impressive muscle tone; clearly, he's seen the inside of a gym recently. While an excessive dedication to honing one's physique will never be frowned upon on this blog, a commitment to displaying said ill-gotten gains with a tight-fitting General Pants Co. t-shirt is. I don't want to cast aspersions on his character, but he's more likely than not an opportunistic user of recreational drugs. His experiences with drugs, however, are probably limited; he's just as happy "getting on the piss with the boiz".

Party tricks: "shuffling like a beast"; knowing all the lyrics to every DJ Khaled song ever made; locating and wooing the girl with the best tightness-of-dress to inebriation ratio; downing a sack of goon in two minutes or less without "bitching about it". 

Where you'll find him: Birdee Num Num's 

The Barely (And, In Some Cases, Not Quite) Legal Fashionista:

THE GOOD This lovely lady will cloak herself in the garments du jour (as related to her by trusty fashion mags like Cleo and Madison), picked straight from the racks of over-priced designer wear spruiked by Myer. She's about as cutting edge as a blunt pair of nail scissors, but her friends will leave her 1001 photo comments about just how well-dressed she is. Her personality is, more likely than not, bland, but that's easily off-set by her neat, white, even smile - if there's one thing the upper middle class values, it's good dental work. The years of torment she endured because of her braces have now been counterbalanced by her frequent, toothy appearances on Get A Nightlife. She'll travel in a pack of girls, all of whom are carbon copies of her, and secretly spend all night assessing them to determine whether or not she's thinner/smarter/more popular than they are.


Party tricks: naming every girl in her grade (and the grades bookending hers) at All Hallows'; managing to relate any conversational topic back to her 6.2 GPA; maintaining a sanctimonious visage throughout the duration of any song not sung by Katy Perry (and subsequently, frothing on the dance floor to every Katy Perry song that's spun). 

Where you'll find her: GPO

THE BAD "Rules of a Lady"? Fuck that. This girl makes and breaks rules with the same reckless abandon she uses to down Wet Pussies at the bar. She's convinced herself that no dress is slutty if she has the shape for it, that she really is an 8 and not a 12, and that "body concious" is a term that should apply only to the cut of her tribal print micro-mini. Unlike her 'classy' counterpart, who wouldn't be caught dead in anything sold in a shopping centre, this girl isn't afraid to take a chain store piece and make it her own. Unfortunately, this means that their "adorable" new Foxx Foe dress looks just as "adorable" on the next "bird". The terms 'loud' and 'brash' don't just apply to her sense of style; this girl would be right at home on an episode of Ladette to Lady. Rather than travel in packs, this girl will travel with her BFF (with whom she has a tumultuous relationship that hinges on the state of her relationship with her boyfriend), because if "shit goes down", her "girl" is "real" and will always "have her back".

Party tricks: a full and comprehensive knowledge of the rules to King's Cup; seemingly sonar ability to locate males who live in on-campus residences; the ability to down seven or more Pulse cans in an hour; her flexibility.

Where you'll find her: The Victory Hotel


Pick your poison.

xo, CK