Perched precariously atop a too-tall bar stool, I was sipping my Martini in a stylish bar in the city's bohemian Norrebrø district when the bartender I'd been chatting to asked: "So, do you want to come clubbing with me and my mates from the Fire Station later?" The Fire Station: obviously the name of some trendy drinking establishment. "My mates - they're firemen," he clarified. Choke, splutter, cough. Danish firemen. (Boys, read: nurses or air hostesses.) I silently thanked every god I could think of and tried to repress the urge to do back flips. You might not get as lucky as I did in Copenhagen, but you're sure to be treated to some delightful sights.

Denmark's small town capital suffers from a severe multiple personality disorder. It oozes Scandi savvy, but is colored with Dutch liberal attitudes and has even been said to seem a bit Japanese. Maybe it's Copenhageners flair for design and technology or its cavalier approach to shopping. Or maybe it's the countless sushi bars. With a population of 490,000 in Copenhagen proper - 1.5 million in Greater Copenhagen - the city feels like a giant Benetton advert: all fresh faces and astute fashion senses.

Let's Chill

Like the inhabitants of any northern city, Copenhageners make the most of their summers. As soon as the weather shows signs of warming up, they're out in the many parks and squares with picnics and puppies and the compulsory football to kick about. And when the weather isn't up to scratch, the locals are loathed to go inside if they can help it. Even at more posh restaurants, you're likely to find rosy-cheeked Danes wrapped in blankets, hovering over candles at outside tables well into the wee hours.

A night in Copenhagen must start with a hearty meal. As cutting edge as the city is, mealtimes are as old-fashioned as ever with huge spreads and boisterous banter - in the Danish eateries, anyway. (Actually, Danish food has just recently become de rigueur again after that horrible health kick we all went on in the Nineties.) Although the city has endless international options, you really can't pass up the opportunity to sample the local fare. Heaps of pickled herring might scare you, but less exotic choices are available; lots of pork and fresh fish.

When you head on to the bars after your meal, you might come across a few rowdier types swigging jugs of Windex-blue liquid in the queues outside the clubs. Drinks in Copenhagen aren't any more expensive than in the UK, but young ones still find it necessary to stock up on moonshine before having to pay for booze inside. And, again, this is a common sight well past midnight. Queues for clubs (especially on a Saturday night) don't begin to reasonably shrink until way past 3am.

Which brings us to the hour most tourists will throw their hands up, defeated by the relentless Copenhagen nightlife. Although kebabs and burgers are available, you'd do better to head for one of the unassuming hot dog vans usually a convenient few steps from the club. The infamous Danish dog with onions and pickles is a must-try at the end of a big night. Many of the clubs and bars are near Sankt Hans Tovr in Norrebrø, although there is a quaint cluster of more commercial establishments in Boltens Gaard, a hidden piazza by the main square of Kongens Nytorv. Both of which both have their own resident vans.

Danish Delight

One of the most common myths harbored by tourists is that Copenhageners avoid the main attractions. We know that Londoners are loathed to head for Oxford Street and Parisians hate to make the trip to the Champs Elysées - although they inevitably do - but natives of Copenhagen are happy to visit Tivoli a few times a year. In the summer, they can be seen strolling through the theme park, especially at nights, horsing around or just taking in a romantic stroll.

Surely the most interesting day out is a trip south of the center to Christiania. Strangely enough, it also feels like an amusement park, with the outside gate crowned in a psychedelic, multicolored painted wooden sign. There's a strict no-photographs rule in the Free Town, but you should eventually overcome the urge to snap at every oddity you come across.

Founded in 1970 as a rebellion against "the man," Christiania now has its own bars, restaurants, music, art and shops. (You'll see the Christiania bikes-cum-carts all over the city - they're incredibly popular with young, yuppie families.) The stalls that line the main path through the town sell various herbal "refreshments" and are manned by some of the most bona fide hippies you're ever likely to encounter.

"So what does "lukke" mean?" I asked a stringy-haired crusty, displaying his array of products. "It means lucky, man. You buy the joint, then you smoke the joint, man. Then, when you get to the filter, mean, you unroll it. If it says you're a winner, you could win another joint, man." "I see." "Or a gram of skunk, or a hash cupcake, man, or another joint..." "I see." Enterprising, real-life hippies.

The whole of Copenhagen seems geared toward the navigation of the city. For the warmer months, communal bikes are available via a trolley-style coin-drop system. (You get the coin back when you return the bike.) However, if you're likely to be tempted at all by any of the countless big-name or independent-designer shops, you'd do best to leave the bikes and foot/cab it.

Copenhagen can keep any range of shopper happy - from the upmarket antiques aficionado to the slinky, customized jeans junky. As for me, I fell somewhere in between. In between a few firemen, that is. For just one weekend, boy, was it ever good to be me.

Joseph was a painter. Ingrid was a sculptor. Peter was a photographer, his girlfriend a designer. The terrible dancer in the middle of the floor with the curly ponytail and Euro-tight suit was an "odour artist". He painted with crushed strawberries and, er, less pleasant-smelling natural materials. Every single person I met in Antwerp was an artist.

Rags to riches

Famed for being the world's diamond capital, with four of the 22 existing diamond exchanges sitting in its diamond district, pop stars and princesses still flock to Antwerp to shop for precious gems. But the city has proven it has more to offer than priceless jewels. Antwerp's tradition of inspiring and retaining its home-grown artists dates back to Rubens and Van Dyck, who were lured back to their hometown after exploring Italy's grandiose architecture and ancient art tradition. The Eighties saw the rise of the Antwerp Six (Ann Demeulemeester, Dirk Bikkembergs, Dries Van Noten, Dirk Van Saene, Walter Van Beirendonck and Marina Yee), who helped make the city's Royal Academy of Fine Arts fashion department world famous.

But it's not all glitz and gloss in Antwerp. Like its Benelux neighbor in Holland, it has a fully operational red-light district, complete with ladies of the night (and day, if you're up for it) behind windows advertising their wares and services. In the tradition of Paris' Pigalle and London's Soho districts, where there's sex on sale there's likely to be a trend-setting cackle of media-crats not too far behind. Style gurus and slaves have already set up shop in Antwerp's bawdier streets and it's worth a trip just north of the center to check out Café d'Anvers and Phil Collins - two of the city's places to be seen - even if you're not looking to purchase a romp.

Flandy is dandy

There's no shortage of trendy establishments in Antwerp: over 4000 nightspots for a city of some 450,000 inhabitants. Like Zürich, the city's former industrial quarter in Het Eilandje - the area around the old port - is getting a face lift. Dozens of designer bars and fusion eateries are popping up along the bank of the Scheldt River and the abandoned warehouses now house anything from small creative consultancies to empty beer bottles and bare dj tables, as many of these are used as venues for exclusive unsanctioned parties.

Het Zuid, just south of the center, is the liveliest district for hip drinking spots, especially if you're looking to bag a creative type. The Museum voor Hedendaagse Kunst van Antwerpen (Museum for Contemporary Arts of Antwerp) or MUKHA is nearby, as is the Museum voor Fotographie (Photography Museum), increasing your chances of stumbling into the arms of a frustrated young art student over the course of the evening.

But let's face it. Anyone going to Antwerp is likely to have just one thing in mind. As much as we all appreciate good food and raw talent, there's nothing like a strong dose of retail therapy to make a holiday worthwhile. Shopping in Antwerp is an experience. The high-street shops are restricted to the high street so there's no danger of a Gap lurking around every corner. The Antwerp Six are easy to find, as are other big names, but the lesser-known local designers and upmarket fringe shops might pique your curiosity more.

The same goes for interiors shops with antique and ethnic-influenced gallery-style stores littered around Kloosterstraat. In association with Mode 2001, a series of Fashion Walks were conceived to allow tourists to combine the city's important fashion landmarks with that crucial shopping spree, further blurring the lines between fashion and art in Antwerp.

Lines duly blurred, not to mention eyesight after a few Belgian whites, an Antwerp break is the grown-up alternative to a weekend in Amsterdam. Refined, yet naughty and, above all, fiercely cutting edge.