Section Articles:  Introduction Being True to Yourself in a World that's Losing its Cool Hip Hot Spots 15 of the hippest neighborhoods in the U.S and Canada Let Them Eat Lifestyle From hip to hype -- the ultimate coporate takeover by The Baffler's Tom Frank Beyond Hip Looking for something better than the Next Big Thing The Queen of Cool Haysun Hahn gets paid to be hipper than the rest of us Are Black People Cooler than White People? Dumb Question. How I Escaped My Addiction to Hip by playwright and screenwriter Eve Ensler It Took a Village  There's nothing new about business co-opting hip life

I'm cool like this:

I read fashion magazines like they're warning labels telling me what not to do.
When I was a kid, Arthur Fonzarelli seemed a garden-variety dork.
I got my own speed limit.
I come when I want to.
I maintain like an ice cube in the remote part of the freezer.
Cooler than a polar bear's toenails.
Cooler than the other side of the pillow.
Cool like me.
Know this while understanding that I am in essence a humble guy.

I'm the kinda nigga who's so cool that my neighbor bursts into hysterical tears whenever I ring her doorbell after dark. She is a new immigrant who has chosen to live with her two roomates in our majority-black Los Angeles neighborhood so that, I'm told, she can "learn about all American cultures." But her real experience of us is limited to the space between her Honda and her front gate; thus, much of what she has to go on is the vibe of the surroundings and the images emanating from the television set that gives her living room a minty cathode glow. As such, I'm a cop-show menace and a shoe commercial demi-god--one of the rough boys from our 'hood and the living, breathing embodiment of hip hop flava. And if I can't fulfill the prevailing stereotype, the kids en route to the nearby high school can. The woman is scared in a cool world. She smiles as I pass her way in the light of day, unloading my groceries or shlepping my infant son up the stairs. But at night, when my face is visible through the window of her door lit only by the bulb that brightens the vestibule, I, at once familiar and threatening, am just too much.