Eva Bradley: Women behaving badly. Not!

We've all heard the cliché that "boys will be boys". It's a one-liner that excuses boys and (more often) grown men from all sorts of misdemeanours, most notably drunkenness, mild debauchery and the leaving of wet towels on the floor.

But when can "girls be girls" and just what should that entail?

A while ago after some failed attempts to spend quality time with friends with babies, I decided it might be best for all concerned if I popped back in 20 years to see if they were free.

Instead, I was treated to a rare walk down memory lane last weekend when two of my BFF's not only secured themselves the incredibly rare event of a night without small children, but one without their husbands as well.

For a childless, unmarried mate, this was about as close to heaven as I could get with my feet still firmly on planet earth.

With an overnight bag packed with lip gloss, high heels and memories of stumbling home from the pub at 3am, I flew to Auckland and met my friends at a stylish inner-city apartment where for the next 24-hours we were to live for ourselves instead of our dependants.

But is an unscripted night on the town in your early 30s the same as in your early 20s? And, more importantly, would you want it to be?

For a start, we wore more clothes. Although I was doubtless one of the worst offenders in my youth, the habit young girls have today of wearing what looks like little more than a bandage wrapped around their bum is, to me, quite scandalous.

I'm sure some women thought the same thing when the generation behind them started wearing trousers instead of long skirts. Respectability is a relative thing but as the decades tick on, it is hard to imagine a time when more flesh can possibly be displayed than is now the fashion.

Still, in a nod to our shared past we were, as my boyfriend fondly calls it, "lambing it up" and despite the passage of time and the bearing of babies, our small gaggle of girls still managed an equally small number of wolf whistles and lewd comments. Ironically, such attention whilst irritating in the past, now serves as welcome confirmation that one is very much still in the game, even if it's not one that any of us are remotely interested in playing.

As the night wore on it became clear to all of us that although we still looked the same and were essentially the same people, our definition of a night out had changed with the passage of time.

Instead of the dubious Italian joint that let us BYO and have two forks for the one $10 main, we dined at Depot and ordered our drinks off the top shelf.

After one quick Salsa instead of dancing till dawn, we made a paltry effort at misbehaving by sneaking up to the pool of a posh hotel with intentions to skinny dip.

A security door thankfully left us with few other tricks up our sleeve except to return to our apartment at the respectable hour of 1am, still sober enough to not only hold on to our dinner but next day remember eating it as well.

While some might say that girls should always remain girls, as we got up the next day for part two of our girls' weekend without a hangover, I thought there was a lot to recommend the fact that girls can also grow up to be women.

We may not be high-heeled quite so often as we once were but as we enjoyed the fruits of our adult labour by enjoying a day of spa treatments, shopping and high tea at the top of the Sky Tower, it occurred to me that being well-heeled might in fact be better.