We used to often sing along to “Downtown” by Petula Clark loudly in the car when the girls were young. I heard it again yesterday, and I couldn’t believe how wholesome Petula’s version of a night out on the razz is. The worst part appears to be the traffic (fair enough I suppose) – although even that is “musical” rather than bloody annoying.
Before the night is over you’re going to be dancing to the bossanova with some like minded person. And that’s it. Happy ever after follows, presumably. No alcohol, it seems, for our heroine or any other inhabitants of this well behaved metropolis. Where are the drunken students, vomiting into the gutter? Maybe Petula has preloaded before heading out, but she never mentions it. Clearly she’s not planning on becoming inebriated, or have sex with anyone. (Confusingly for someone my age, it’s the latter activity that is referred to as “getting smashed” in modern parlance, not the former. I wonder if this has ever led to amusing misunderstandings?)
On the plus side, there’s very little in the way of paternalistically imposed rigid gender roles. Your dance partner is a “him”, but otherwise anything goes, it seems. With its bright lights, movie shows, little places that are open all night, and general feeling of safety and acceptance, it actually sounds like a kind of Nirvana.
Rating 10/10 – will sing along again.