For starters, the location (a South Mumbai nightclub) and an entry fee does weigh the selection in favour of the English-speaking upmarket type. Which is not to say it attracts the usual teeny pub crawlers. Far from it. A quick scan will reveal women's activists, journalists, businesswomen, bankers, models, artists, advertising executives, filmmakers, etc. The only unusual aspect about the crowd is that itconsists only of women.

The first thing you notice as you walk in is a preponderance of handbags. Slinky, dinky, huge, briefcase-size, they are everywhere, cluttering up tables, slung over chairs, or stacked on the floor. Mobile phones are not in evidence (that's what handbags are for). What is, though, are packets of Marlboro Lights. Last month prices of the brand apparently zoomed due to excessive demand -- if this evening is any indication then it seems a safe bet to assume that the rising number of women smokers had something to do with it.

Gradually, other things become apparent. The aesthetics, for one, are very, very pleasing to the eye. You imagine yourself at a Monday evening gathering where men predominate, and you see yourself surrounded by dull grey, black, blue, jackets and shirts. But here there is infinite variety. Elegant gowns, short strappy dresses, trousers, jackets, lacy boob tops, colourful waistcoats, saris, salwar kameezes, bracelets and beaded necklaces.

Then there is atmosphere.There is a softness, intangible but something perhaps to do with the pitch of the voices. There is cricket on the screens but nobody appears to be watching. Friends catch up at various tables and strangers get acquainted. Early on in the evening there is a quick fixing up of rides home. But nobody lounges around for long. Almost from the word go, the dance floor beckons. And before long everybody is on the floor swinging, rocking, and having a great time that doesn't end till the place shuts down. Would this happen in any other city?

I doubt it. The social norms in Chennai and Calcutta are way too different. In Bangalore men outstrip women at nightspots and it's not customary there for women to travel alone very late. Delhi with its large number of women's organisations and working women would probably be the closest possibility. Except that when I asked a visitor from Delhi at the March 8 bash last year she just shook her head emphatically. ``In Delhi,'' she said, ``there would be groups of women - theactivists, the ad types, the filmmakers, the gay women -- and none of them would talk to the other.''

Maybe we have a lot to be grateful for. A culture that accepts more than any other place in the country, a woman's right to work, to drive, to dress how she wants, to enjoy herself in a variety of ways. Cabbies that are, by and large, trustworthy, a public transport system that for all its faults, works. The prospect of economic advancement and at the same time a life that is so tough that it blurs gender and other divisions.

Even, given all these factors, she is a special breed -- the `Bombay woman.' Bright, spunky and independent. Aiming high and working hard. Almost like a man when she wants to be (watch her singing along with The Doors, that ultimate laddie are song : Keep your eyes on the road) and ultra feminine if she doesn't. Confident and warm and uncomplaining. There she is just inches away from the glass ceiling, having a good time.

The writer is former editor of Elle