The people you meet at The Commons
Twelve months after opening, The Commons is still packed with the city's hip and beautiful. Here are the people making Thonglor cool again. Illustrations by Nutnicha Nuttanakorn.
She’s just finished a punishing 45-minute ride at Absolute Cycle, and there’s not a hair out of place. Decked out head to toe in crisp athleisurewear, you’ll spot her peering at the Sourced Grocer fridge not-so-silently weighing up the relative merits of almond milk and kombucha. (She doesn’t seem to consume much more.) Commonly known to form “squads” where the first rule of membership is 24/7 leggings.
The Polo Ralph Lauren logo on his shirt (collar up) is big enough to be seen from space, while strapped to his wrist is the ugliest collection of rose gold and black rubber that Switzerland’s finest ever dreamt up. Parking? Parking’s for losers. This guy’s Porsche (gunmetal gray, red fabric roof and matching seat-belts) just rolls up in front for him to jump out and grab a coffee—and by coffee, we mean iced caramel mocha with extra whipped cream. His Milin-clad girlfriend can wait while he’s at it.
Exhausting all the blue-and-white stripy clothing in Muji, these charmingly put together creatures wandered down from Starbucks on Jan 8, 2016 and have stayed ever since. Alien to the concept of a pram, their offspring can be found strapped tightly to their chests in linen baby holsters perfectly matched with their tote bags. What happens to these delicate ladies who brunch after their children reach nursery age? No one knows.
He’s known to bump fists with each and every stall owner, but you’ll probably hear this 72 Courtyard deserter before you see him: a put-on American drawl proclaiming last night’s exploits in the Dalmatian Room. This cap-backwards bro will chow down on just about anything (he needs the sustenance for the big four-hour set ahead, you know), but has a particular penchant for the hipster banh mi at Eastbound and fusion burgers at Soul Food 555—shit’s off the chain.
No longer first in line for any new series of Amazing Race (see: 2009), these beautifully malnourished waifs and chiseled beefcakes have plenty of time to while away on flat whites as they discuss opening their own organic bowl bars-slash-oxygen-deficit bootcamps-slash-pet modeling agencies. And when that all goes wrong, at least they can count on the occasional emcee gig to still come calling. Hey, is that the dude who organizes Cortina watch events?
They buy a single bowl of Japanese plum kakigori between them, but it sits untouched and drowning in its own limpid pool, as these three lifelong BFFs pose naturally on the outdoor staircase and direct their solitary male photographer friend to take just one more photo from over there. No. Over. There.
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