And one of the things some of them will do is wallow (like the blonde goddess in our picture, hereinafter to be called Ingeborg because of her Vikingish blondeness) in an infinity pool in the Infinity Towers apartments complex at Gungahlin. The picture of Ingeborg and the pool is supplied by the project's developers.

The Infinity Towers movers and shakers, Geocon, held a kind of launch of their project at Gungahlin on Wednesday. Nearby, a fenced-off and bare paddock awaits a start on the two towers. They will be, by Canberra's inhibited and stunted standards, towering and colossal. But in the only sign of activity there on Wednesday a sweet little bobcat chewed absent-mindedly at the bare earth, perhaps preparing a little trench for something.

Property and development matters are not usually part of this column's portfolio. Yet for some of us, who live in old or middle-aged Canberra (this columnist lives in wrinkled Garran), young Canberra has a hard-to-define allure.

The allure is partly because young Canberra belongs to that foreign future, in which they'll do things differently. Then, for a skyscraper enthusiast like this columnist, frustrated by the squat and stunted Canberra insisted on by residents' associations that caterwaul at the thought of anything even three storeys tall, the Infinity Towers sound refreshingly different.

They won't quite scrape the sky but, rising to 692m above sea level, they will be excitingly, unCanberranly lofty. No wonder Ingeborg can't wait to move in there to live and to swim.

One of the pleasures on Wednesday of talking with Geocon's managing director Nick Georgalis (and you know you are getting old when managing directors seem so young) was the thought that for so many conservative Canberrans, of old and middle-aged Canberra, he is a kind of Satan.

Geocon's designs on Manuka are knotting some vocal locals' knickers into sheepshanks. Perhaps perversely, this columnist took an instant liking to him because, to invert Gareth Evans' famous joke about why people take an instant dislike to Bronwyn Bishop, I thought it would save time later on.

"Canberrans are very used to living below the canopy, below the tree line," he reflected, after we'd asked him about the sheer toweringness of sleek Infinity Towers.

"It's something that so many expect because it's what's happened in the past. But one of the things we've found (in promoting apartment towers to people) is that the appetite to live above the canopy is very different. And it's attracting a broad demographic. We find that we get more mixed purchasers for these high-rise towers."

He's found that when people want to live in the suburbs they want somewhere with that "suburban character", those tree-festooned streets, those ample backyards.

But when people have an appetite for a home in a town centre (Infinity Towers is at Gungahlin's Town Centre) it's because they fancy living somewhere with "lots of amenity" (restaurants, bars, supermarkets, cinemas, everything).

To have those amenities existing and thriving at a town centre you need, he says, (using that Satanic word that leaves older Canberra ashen-faced), a "density" of folk. And today, he rejoices, "you're seeing more density in the town centres".

We wondered who was buying and showing interest in buying, the Infinity Towers apartments? Who are the Ingeborgs?

"We've sold four of the penthouses to downsizers from the area. But as well, there are so far first home buyers, investors, everyone. And having that mix of people in a development just gives you a better social mix. You don't have just young people, just renters. You've got a mature crowd and a younger crowd."

Ingeborg we felt sure, from what we can see of her youthful-looking Nordic shoulders, belongs to that younger crowd. And though she is surely destined for a high-flying career she is unlikely, just yet, to be able to afford an Infinity Towers penthouse. They cost a million dollars each.

Then in conversation with Nick Georgalis yet another Satanic, knicker-knotting-for-Canberrans issue arose. Light rail. Horror!

He fancies that the promise of light rail ("the terminus will be just 200 metres from here" he rejoices, gesturing to where that amenity will be) is assisting the attractiveness of Infinity Towers.

"It's a big drawcard," he's sure, because it will give the people who live in the Towers an easy "connectivity" with the city.

He thinks that is an especially desirable drawcard for people in their sixties.

Yes, one cannot imagine that counting for so much for young Ingeborg, who is bound to achieve all the "connectivity" she needs in a natty little open-topped sports car, bright red to set off her lustrous blonde hair.

And taking of the natty, one of the features of Wednesday's occasion was the opportunity to use natty 3D goggles. Potential purchasers peer into them and adjust them to get a look of the view they would have from whichever apartment balcony was theirs.

Of course everything in life looks enhanced through 3D goggles (just as it does through rose-tinted spectacles). And in 3D some really rather average views (Infinity's spruikers make a great deal out of the "waterfront" views given by a pond, Yerrabi Pond,) look like paradise.

Ingeborg's view, from the infinity pool, is of Yerrabi Pond in the foreground and of the burly hills of the Spring Range in the distance. Some of you will wonder why she seems so entranced by that quite average vista. But Ingeborg, a woman of tomorrow, of tomorrow's above-the-canopy Canberra, knows her own mind.