After a gallery opening myself, two close friends and another couple (he an architect in his late-forties, she an ex-model who works in fashion in her twenties) retire to a restaurant in the LES. Expensive cocktails, small plates, a bistro-like atmosphere with an edgy, downtown vibe. I end up sitting next to the young fashionista and, after a few rounds of small talk, she starts asking me direct, pointed questions: ‘What do I like/dislike about New York?’ ‘Why don’t you drink?’ ‘What makes you shy?’ Her effusive manner, open, warm regard and playful, self-mocking expressions win me over in the end, and I make an effort to respond honestly. But on her last question I stumble: why, in fact, am I shy? ‘I’m just made that way,’ I suggest lamely. ‘But is this in fact true?’ she counters. She puts the matter so bluntly and simply that I’m caught off guard, forced to doubt my seemingly unexamined convictions. ‘Where I’m from people aren’t so focused on themselves,’ she states, ‘we like spending time with people – friends, family. It’s not so…’ – she searches for the right word – ‘individualistic.’ I start to protest, alarmed at the thought of being cast in with this stereotype of the self-centered, Western Individualist. But perhaps in her off-the-cuff assessment she’s not so far off…