If you're so clever, why arn't you rich?

Pure is a party on an island that I never knew existed - largely because it only has one building on it (a yacht club).

Drinks are free between 7 and 10, so there are plenty of people milling by the bar and outstreched arms weaving with deft precision towards the moving trays of Vodka limes and VB pints (a beer considered quite novelty in Singapore).

I'd gone with Michelle, a journalist, who'd intoducted me to quite a few people from fashion and media. And I'd even bumped into Chuan (My neighbor - and not really form fashion or media), spotted a few Clients as well as Yang, a photographer who'd recently moved here from who I'd been bumping into quite alot recently.

Pure is a book of photographs showcasing 25 local celebrities. Naked and crying. Each book is going for $10,000 and Includes dinner.

Proceeds go to Cancer.

5 shots have been taken from the book and are on display behind the party's reception, the Most popular seems to be one of a guy named 'Mark' who has a long line of wet snot running down his chin - by far the most confrontational thing on this display that night.

'I can't beleive Mark let them use that photography without any DI (Digital retouching)' someone comments approaching photo.

People's thoughts on the photos seem to be the hot topic.

Noticing the Dominic (Pure's creator and photographer) in the vacinity, so I walk over say hi and shake his hand while congratulating him. We're approached by a crowd-photographer asking us to pose for a shot. I ask Dominic politely if he'd like to replicate a pose He'd shot of two young female models crying into each others shoulders. He thinks for a moment and then grins, extends one one arm and walks towards me allowing me to pour my best look of faux agony and sadness into his padded shoulder.

Later that night as Michelle and I are considering getting something to eat, I Notice Chuan (who'd been moving around the party in search of cigarettes) approaching the photo wall, then turning towards a skinny lady dressed in a tight fitted high cut dress and loose-fitted knee-high pointy-boot-stilettos, carrying an expensive looking Hollywood Cerise colored box of Dunhill cigarettes.

For some reason people seem to dress better on Thursday nights.

To my delight she pulls one from the box and hands it to him, so I quickly approach her, introduce myself and politely (and faux-apologetically) ask if I too could bum one.

After doing a quick one-over she smiles and says 'Maybe if you beg.'

'What if I bat my eyelids in quick succession and add a few W's to my pwretty pleases?' I ask while opening and closing in quick succession my eyes and inserting a few W's in to the word 'pretty'.

She faux-laughs, smiles, hands me one from the pack, and after one bar of conversation,
tells me 'You're so cheap', before doing a quick tuck-turn and ushering herself away from me.

Realising that I actually did suddenly feel quite cheap, I decided I'd best shut up and just enjoy the good value.