Expecting Tommy's party to be a hotbed microcosm - a small moon orbiting the gas giant of hipster lifestyle - I decided to enlist the aid of a friend to act as guide and interpreter. Even the most adventurous explorers take advantage of the buddy system, and I would need a Tenzing Norgay to complement my Sir Edmund Hillary. I just wasn't ready to climb this particular Everest on my own. And besides, my invitation was a "plus one."

My friend Bonnie presents herself as an excellent accomplice. If I'm to successfully infiltrate this alien terrain, I'll need someone who already knows the ins and outs of what's happening; someone who can translate for me the subtleties and mannerisms of the locals. Her position with a successful production company, alongside being a director and producer in her own right, affords Bonnie a great deal of valuable insight. What's more, her nigh-encyclopedic knowledge of all things famous paired with a keen ability to recognize and identify anyone even remotely worth noticing, would prove a huge asset on this, my first foray into a strange land.

I hooked up with Bonnie in the street late Friday night. Six-feet-plus-heels, she's a jaw-dropping Amazonian sight for sore eyes. I'd been worried about what to wear since first hearing of the event. It's an über classy venue, right? So I'll wear something nice. But it's also Tommy Lee of Mötley Crüe fame; decidedly not so classy. How do I dress appropriately for both? I finally settled on black jeans, all-black All-Stars, a brownish collared shirt and, underneath, a teeshirt decorated with a colourful planet. I rounded out the ensemble with what I believe to be a fairly stylish set of eyeglasses; though, this was also a practical measure - I wanted to be able to see. With Bonnie at my side, I hoped to look good by association. Unfortunately, I think I managed to look worse by comparison.