After reading Boystown, I began to question the authenticity of space. What qualifies as an authentic space and what doesn’t? Can authenticity be temporary? In Boystown, the gay clubs and bars were part of the “safari.” People, predominantly women, visited Boystown because it partly fulfilled their fantasies and was a form of entertainment. I was interested that the atmosphere of the bars and clubs changed when straight women inhibited it. Spaces like “Manhole” seemed to lack its originality and authenticity because of the presence of straight women. Yet, in order for Boystown to be authentic there needs to be a certain level of exclusivity. Exclusivity is partially enforced by requiring visitors to remove their shirts or wear particular accessories; however, it fails to create an authentically queer space. As a result, I found that the queer spaces in Boystown were always moving or shutting down.

I couldn’t help but compare Boystown to social preservation. Boystown is becoming increasingly more popular amongst outsiders (heterosexual population) and this inherently pushes out the locals (homosexual population) or forces the locals to find refuge elsewhere. I align the heterosexual population going “on safari” to Boystown with the social preservationists. These visitors do not necessarily change the space but would much rather share the space with the locals in order to create authentic experiences. The homosexual population who frequently visit Boystown, the “old-timers” are used for the benefit of the social preservationists. Similar to a lot of other cities and neighborhoods that undergo social preservation, Boystown is not being preserved. Some bars and clubs in Boystown are marketing toward the outsider population (straight women) and providing the “safari” experience.

I have yet to come to conclusion if authenticity can exist within temporality. Throughout the semester we have discussed communities existing virtually and temporarily. For example, gaming communities are both virtual and temporal. Authenticity may not have to be associated with a physical space or a permanent community. Rather, authenticity may exist as more of an abstract concept. The straight women were disturbing the authenticity and originality of Boystown; however, the gay men were able to reproduce an authentic experience wherever they went as long as they were surrounded by people with common interest.

Jonathan R. Wynn’s piece, the Music/City, makes light of how festivals in Austin, Nashville, and Newport benefit their respective communities in which they take place.  Wynn claims the festivals present an opportunity for large groups of strangers to converge and commune, while at the same time operate as a walled off an inclusive space (7).  Wynn suggests these festivals/communities, instantaneous in nature, perform as an “occasional public or an arranged public” (9).  This idea of an “occasional or arranged public” brings me to the question that I posed to the class, “Does this process of festivalization lead to spontaneous cosmopolitan canopies or offer spaces that mimic the traits of a cosmopolitan canopy?”

As a class, we seemed to come to a consensus that although these festivals displayed aspects that could be attributed to spontaneous cosmopolitan canopies, these festivals at best mimicked some of the defining characteristics of what might constitute a spontaneous cosmopolitan canopy. Wynn alludes to Anderson’s theory of a spontaneous community claiming cultural individuals, organizations, musicians, government/quasi – government entities, for profit entities, as well as audiences and communities converge within the space of the festival.  This illustrates that the festival is not only a neutral space that no one group exclusively owns, but there is also a common link amongst the audience in that they have all come to watch the same or different bands/musicians play (36).

It becomes apparent, upon examining Wynn’s research, that although the festivals appear to function in theory as spontaneous canopies (as Anderson would suggest), under the surface one can see these festivals mimic a spontaneous cosmopolitan canopy rather than truly functioning as one.  Wynn mentions all the major festivals that have been established sold out faster in recent time than they ever have, even before lineups are announced (40).  With limits of the potential for locals of the community to participate in the festival, it can create an exclusive space within an existing area (such as a park or square) of a community that is not accessible to all.  This is reminiscent of Anderson’s description of the poor in the Reading Terminal and most similar to Kevin Loughran’s theory of the High Line as a product of the growth machine and uneven development of urban spaces.  The concept of the city as a growth machine is echoed in Wynn’s research as he points out Mayor Wynn claimed that audiences had to spend money to make his city a thriving one, and that progressing urban culture requires economic sources (12).

This requirement of human capital to participate does not limit a spontaneous cosmopolitan canopy from occurring if everyone can purchase a ticket; however, it backfires when tickets sell out before lineups are announced and as a result “long brewing tensions between the festivals and their local communities exist” (40).  This exclusivity prevents a spontaneous cosmopolitan canopy from occurring due to the lack of a neutral space that it fails to produce.  Space is dominated by a large like-minded majority possibly there for different bands/musicians; not all groups are present as some are inherently excluded through economic capital i.e. festival tickets.

Justin, toward the end of our class discussion, made a great point describing the festivals as pop- up shops.  Interested people go in, interconnect in some way out of a shared interest in the shop, but they have to be there to see it, creating a sense of shared experience and not necessarily a spontaneous cosmopolitan canopy.  Justin’s point is very similar to David Grazian’s theory of a community as ambient, or the feeling of belonging arising through one’s participation around/among like-minded strangers.  This theory does not necessarily support the idea of a spontaneous cosmopolitan canopy occurring within the festivals, but rather a sense of a shared experience arising.

I would agree with this concept.  Festivals foster ambient communities rather than spontaneous cosmopolitan canopies as ambient communities.  Spontaneous cosmopolitan canopies have aspects of shared experience.  Those who participate in the experience do not have to engage in folk ethnography, as they would in a cosmopolitan canopy, because they are surrounded by like-minded individuals and not different groups.

In Jonathan Wynn’s Music/City, he describes the movement of a cities cultural identity of material production to the present goal of maximizing consumption offerings. As the trend of festivilization will continue to grow, this idea aligns naturally with our in-class discussion of the city as an entertainment machine. City officials are placing an emphasis on music festivals in hopes of transforming local economies. As a result, festival sites are being constructed at a pace that outweighs demand, costing over $15 billion.

Because cities have transitioned to offering as much consumption as possible, there has certainly been a rise in the individual consumer. The consumer now has more freedom to partake in music festivals as well as indulge themselves in the host cities food market. In addition, Wynn mentions that the continued privatization of urban spaces has led to numerous theaters, bars, and restaurants. Gentrified neighborhoods soon became home to new businesses and urban development (Wynn, 25). Furthermore, the idea of festivilization presents new roles for city officials as well. Recently, city officials have placed a greater importance on the construction of festival sites surpassing education and healthcare facilities. As a result, policymakers are finding new ways to use public spaces in order to maximize consumption.

Due to the increase in the amount of music festivals many Americans of all backgrounds come together and share public spaces, which reminded me of Anderson’s cosmopolitan canopy. Anderson writes, “the cosmopolitan canopy becomes ever more significant as a setting in which people of diverse backgrounds come together, mingle with strangers…” (Anderson, 29). In many ways, festival sites offer many of the same characteristics. Specifically, Wynn’s example of the Newport music festival takes a community which is known for their majority white elite population and throws “beatniks” and college students into this environment. Surprisingly, over time the Newport festival was greatly accepted by the local residents. Hence, these festivals resemble some qualities of the cosmopolitan canopy as diverse groups of people of all ages come together to share a common music experience.

Lastly, what stood out to me in this reading and what I believe is worth noting is the relationship between locals and tourist populations that travel for music festivals. Wynn notes that while the Newport residents encourage the annual music festival it certainly took time for them to adjust to the music genres that were popular at the time. The Newport community highlights that cosmopolitan canopies do not arise overnight, they develop over time and I’m sure we will see a lot more in the near future as festivals become ubiquitous. It is also important to note that cities attempt to attract more youthful residents as they find ways to rebrand their cities. However, in doing so, they may be affecting a city’s originality and historical value. The effort to rebrand and make communities more appealing causes a potential disconnect between city officials and policymakers as both groups may differ in long term interests for their city’s.

In Ocejo’s work, he discusses the rise of the creative class and how their new objective in the workforce is to not find jobs that pay the highest salary with the most benefits, but rather jobs that give meaning to their work. Ocejo specifically looks at jobs like bartenders, butchers, and barbers and tries to understand why these professions were chosen by the creative class and what meaning they provide to their lives. A majority of these individuals who have chosen these service level jobs are well-educated and have degrees from many colleges and universities. Some had previously worked in the “desk job” life for big corporations and quit soon after starting.  These corporation jobs, although providing monetary comfort, did not fulfill meaning of work in the creative class individuals. As discussed in class, many believe that these workers are over qualified for these service level jobs, but also who is to say whether or not someone has the education to be overqualified for a job.

While Ocejo never explicitly says that the higher educated individuals are more likely to get the service level jobs, it is quite easy to assume that owners of these businesses are looking to cater to a very specific type of consumer: the wealthy. These upscale bars, and farm to table butchers are bringing niche businesses into these growing hipster neighbor hoods and their consumers all seem to fit the same mold. Business owners know what type of consumer their businesses are attracting and want to hire staff that will better represent the ideals of the business. For example, an upscale bar in New York will higher the bartender with higher social capital of ending an elite college because they bring a sense of class and sophistication with them. Ocejo mentions that “The people who fill backstage roles [in these bars] , who have limited if any interactions with customers and clients, are mainly ethnic and racial minorities without advanced degrees or outward interest in the cultural repertoires of the work” (155). These educated workers in these service level jobs have a degree of privilege that their coworkers in the back are not fortunate of. For many of these creative class workers, they left their corporate jobs and high pay to become service level workers, but with no responsibility or expenses following them. The privilege that these workers have to choose to leave a higher paying job to work in a job with more meaning is an opportunity taken for granted. Unlike these privilege creative class workers, many who are working in these same businesses, but in the back, do not have the same opportunity to be able to choose a career that offers them the most meaning in life. Many are trying to support themselves and their families and are happy finding work wherever that may be.

Being in the generation of the creative class it interests me why these individuals feel the need to work these service level jobs. It seems quite unnecessary for these individuals to pursue a four-year college education to work a job that needed no formal education at all, only time and practice in the craft. Perhaps many of these workers felt pressured by their parents or their high schools to pursue a higher education when all along they knew a formal workplace was not for them. I could also see it as a resistance identity of those leaving college and not wanting to follow the expected path from their alma maters. A school like Bowdoin College markets itself in having the best network of alumni to help with careers after graduation, but the focus of these careers is in the business/corporate sector. Would Bowdoin ever boast about their alumni working in these service level jobs like they do about those working in finance or pursuing medical schools. It is to my belief they would not because we still are living in a culture that prides itself on success of people by the amount of money they make and their monetary wealth, not necessarily their emotional wealth or happiness.

Derek Hyra discusses Black Branding in the Cappuccino City and the emergence of ‘Black’ entertainment, aesthetics, and life conditions  becoming increasingly “trendy and authentic” (Hyra, 11). This was especially true for elements of Black culture associated with crime. To prompt my expert question I borrowed a quote from Hyra which argues, “The relationship between authenticity and Blackness is related to the stereotypical association of Blackness with poverty, danger, and excitement, which in turn symbolizes contemporary subtle racism. I consider this a form of subtle racism, compared to the past, when people would not move into a Black community due to blatant racism” (Hyra, 101).

In the class discussion I wanted to focus on the concept of “subtle racism”. Frankly, I feel as though subtle racism is structural force tantamount and interconnected with economic forces that people use to explain gentrification. After all, American racism in it’s conception was quite economic, and continues to be to this day in many ways. Hyra even makes an economic argument as he connects blatant racism with white flight, a widespread occurrence with clear economic consequences. Is it then far fetched, or even radical, to suggest that perhaps even the most rational economic decisions which lead individuals to consume in historically black spaces might constitute some degree of racism? Hear me out.

Hyra begins chapter four, Black Branding, with a short review of blockbusting, and the impact it had on neighborhood home values. White flight left homes across American cities to be filled by hopeful Black residents and potential homeowners, but Blacks were forced to pay higher costs for ownership and rent. Once Blacks could finally move into these spaces, disinvestment followed irregardless of the particular cultures of a neighborhood, thus contributing to the urban decay of American cities for the past several decades. Finally, this process comes full circle once many of these communities have bottomed out, and property values begin to sky rocket in large part due to fetishization of black criminality and poverty OR a romanticization of the most palatable parts of Black history such as Black Broadway. The whole arc of the gentrification story feels highly racialized and racist to me, but as a class we were quite hesitant to take a stance on my main question: does the current phenomenon of black branding and diversity segregation constitute subtle racism?

With little social cohesion between new and old residents, the undeniable racialized economics of urban development and the popularity of Black Branding, subtle racism as a structural force seems difficult to deny. Of course, there are class elements too, and I do not mean to diminish these explanations. I instead hope to deepen our understanding of the economic explanation by supplementing it with the notion of subtle racism. Why are American tastes such that Blackness drives the flow of economic capital? What was the context that allowed for certain spaces to become so lucrative for investment? Finally, who/what are we rewarding with our consumption habits as members of the emerging creative class?

I’m not employing subtle racism here to wave a condescending finger at white peers. It’s bigger than that, and I think we’re all implicated in it — myself included. I also don’t want to place ‘value’ judgement on this phenomenon, nor anyone’s role in it. Bushwick is getting gentrified in this very moment whether anyone likes it or not. I do however think its important that we all recognize and admit what’s happening here. It’s less about individuals, and more about actions and their connection to societal, structural mechanisms. Sometimes nothing is worse than naïveté employed to preserve a sense of innocence. This goes for anyone and everyone.

“It is not permissible that the authors of devastation should also be innocent. It is the innocence which constitutes the crime.” – J. Baldwin, My Dungeon Shook

Richard Ocejo critically reflects on the rise of the creative class within today’s “new economy,” comprised of “knowledge-, creativity-, and technology-based jobs for well-educated and culturally savvy workers, [who] wanted to bartend, in spite of their other job options, and, in some cases, the expectations their families had for them” (xvii). Specifically, Ocejo looks at bartenders, butchers, barbers and distillers in New York City in an attempt to understand a new cultural phenomenon: upwardly-mobile, educated twenty-somethings who opt for traditionally working class jobs. This new workforce, as we discussed in class, is often over-educated for the jobs they choose. Does this mean that with our Bowdoin education, we shouldn’t have jobs that we’re overqualified for? Are we “taking” those jobs away from someone else? And the large-picture question is: does this mean we’re appropriating working class jobs, and is that a problem?

In class, we discussed friends who graduate who find various service jobs, while they live as artists on the side. We then asked—is this bad? Should we just become lawyers instead? There’s a difference between not maximizing your “potential” by selecting a job that you’re overqualified for, and what Ocejo deems “upscaling” a job, which is “ascribing an exclusive status on them based on a new cultural understanding of how professionals in these fields should work (xviii). Essentially, this notion is similar to gentrification of the workplace. When young, educated, workers with cultural capital, as Ocejo describes them, attain jobs that are traditionally skill-specialized, service jobs, they change the cultural understanding of these jobs. This phenomenon also occurs within gentrifying neighborhoods.

This narrative feels very familiar to me, especially with respect to my peers at Bowdoin in search for jobs that defy the expected trajectory of high-paying desk jobs in consulting or technology. The reason that I’m particularly engaged with Ocejo’s analysis of the creative class is because it feels deeply personal. His critical questioning of our generation has really forced me to confront my values, why they exist, and why I’m so drawn to become an artist, or a barista, or a waitress in my short-term future (to name a few jobs that I’ve floated as temporary career paths). Is it a resistance identity, in some way, to choose a more skill-specific, light manufacturing job over the jobs that Career Planning encourages us to pursue? Partially, I think yes. This notion of choosing “light manufacturing” jobs illustrates the shifting value of “cultural omnivores,” in opposition to more overtly classed cultural tastes of previous generations.

Further, is the notion of a cultural omnivore problematic? On one hand, the cultural omnivore embraces cultural tastes of all kind, embracing qualities of both low and high culture. However, cultural omnivores also exist within a certain realm of privilege – they have the cultural capital that allows them to be able to embrace “low” culture, instead of relying on high culture as a class signifier. When applied within the context of upscaling jobs, cultural omnivores have the privilege to be able to opt for “light manufacturing” jobs, as opposed to jobs that may be more financially viable. They have security of their cultural capital and education to choose jobs that align more with their passions, like bartending or distilling, and even change the cultural value of that type of hands-on work.

Within the creative class we have seen a trend towards entering the service industry. This discussion was fruitful and brought up many thought provoking ideas as to why this may be occuring in the present day. One idea that resonated with me personally was that these highly educated millenials are going into cities and taking the jobs that some people of the lower classes depend on. I believe there are two ways to go about thinking of this comment.

In one way we can see that these highly educated people are not actually taking these jobs, but are really working in a different job market. What the creative class does is that they enter into a place that is up-and-coming and they create new businesses that are ultimately more succesful than the businesses they are driving out. This is creating competition, but these more high-end businesses are in a different sector than the lower priced ones. If a person wants to get an artisan brewed beer in the city, than there is a place for them. If somebody wants to go to a cheaper bar than there is also a place for them. The places serving the more wealthy by virtue must employ people with more cultural capital. This means they need people with college degrees and the ability to associate and align with the wealthy class that they are serving.

To oppose this thought we can also see it from the side of those beign driven out of their business and community. With this new class coming in and gentrifying the area they are not only losing their livelihood, but also the place they live. With increasing prices of living the ability to feel comfortable in this neighborhood is impossible and thus they move out to somewhere cheaper and once again underserved. This is not seen as simple competition within the urban context, but an attack on the lives that they used to live. When we bring in the idea of Black Branding we can see how trying to celebrate the formerly black poplus can be even more offensive. This place was taken from a people and now the new populus is attempting the culture that was formerly there.

Although gentrification is often a very negative subject we can attempt to think about how this can create new walks of life and improve the urban environment within America. By pumping money into American cities we can see more wealth being developed and created in the city. At the same time due to the nature of Capitalism there must be a group that gets the short end of the stick and loses. For most examples those that lose are ethnic minorities. Will there ever be a time when these groups will have oppurtunities to not just break even within the American system, but to actually excel? Only time can tell us this answer.

Throughout our discussion of Hyra’s idea of Black Branding we can see how this attempt to steryotype a groups culture can have many negative effects on a group. Within the Shaw/ U Street neighborhood we can see how the current majority white populus has tried to establish certain aspects of black culture in the neighborhood without keeping some of the most important aspects. Artisitic pieces have been created such as murals and statues that celebrate the neighborhoods African-American past, but is this only a front to hide how much this neighborhood has changed?

After giving the idea of black branding much thought it is difficult what to think of it. On one hand it appears to be very racist. Taking the pieces of ones culture that an outsider deems the most important and worth celebrating does not seem like a fair or even excusable idea. On the other hand I can also see this as a form of attempting to understand another groups culture. By working with figures in the community who have experienced the culture within that place a group may be able to truly understand the culture of the people they are trying to “celebrate”.

Ultimately what this has come down to in my eyes is a question of effort on the part of those who want to brand places they are taking over. Are those who are appropriating culture actually trying to understand this culture or do they just want to not look bad for coming into a place and discplacing another ethnic group? This is not something only seen in the Shaw/ U Street, but it is a trend that can be identified across the country in many cultural realms. Take for example music. For those who are not black that listen to rap music is this for pure enjoyment of a musical genre, or is this to understand the “struggle” that black people go through in their daily lives? If it is for the latter, why is this the form of culture that is so accessible and easiest to see? Why is it deemed that this is the “authentic” form of culture that people see and not all of the other forms of culture? This would be like me listening to screamo rock music and generalizing to say that all white people must be like this because this is a majority white music genre.

To wrap up this thinking I want to propose a question. How is it that Black Branding is accurate, but also destructive to a culture? This helps me to understand our discussion of the idea. It is very helpful because it gives people a picture into the way that some black people do live their lives. The keyword here is “some” as not all black people live in this way. Not every black person living in an urban environment is walkign around with guns shooting anybody they can, but at the same time not every black person is living as a new age renaissance. In reality most black people in the city are living somewhere in the middle trying to establish themselves as people within a society that has left them uncared and underserved for generations.

Ocejo discusses the role that a desire for “authentic” experiences and places is currently playing in reshaping economic and communal life urban America. His focus on “new working class” jobs and careers sparked considerable debate in our class last week. We extensively discussed the many ways that these positions, and the people who hold them, may impact communities and how they should be viewed in a broader context of social inequality and privilege.

I think it may be inaccurate – or at least incomplete – to view this desire for authenticity purely as a matter of vain taste. Ocejo suggests that “people have regularly linked taste with social class” (p. 5). This is certainly true, but it seems important to note that there are also other aspects to decisions beyond an abstract personal preference shaped by social forces. Kale, for example, is trendy and often derided; it has become some sort of short-hand that older and more traditional individuals use to describe and criticize the lazy extravagance of the “hipsters” Ocejo profiles. To its critics, Kale is just a silly and more expensive version of iceberg lettuce. Yet, nutritionally, this isn’t really true; Kale is significantly more vitamin rich and contributes more to a healthy diet than most other leafy greens. It seems unlikely that this fact is not interplaying with social forces related to taste when informing hipsters’ purchasing decisions. The same sort of value judgement likely occurs in the cases of local and organic food, fair trade products, free range and humane animal products, and similar items.

A similar line of thinking can be applied when seeking to understand why college-educated individuals, many with privilege or elite backgrounds, are entering working class jobs traditionally associated with lower socioeconomic status. Ocejo mentions that “the idea of taking pleasure in and deriving meaning from one’s job underlies work in the postindustrial era” (p. 18). To this point, many of the people Ocejo profiled discussed a desire to make their life matter in a way that contributes to their communities. They are entering their crafts not merely as a means of extravagant enjoyment, but as a means of contributing to their communities. I expect that, for many of them, this choice has ethical dimensions. By making this decision, they resist and subvert a capitalist system that (arguably) demands individuals simply have the responsibility to make the most money.

Countering this idea, someone in class brought up the idea that these privileged individuals may be taking jobs (and the social and economic capital they provide) from individuals who do not have the mobility or ability to enter traditionally higher class jobs. If someone could become a lawyer, is it unethical for them to become a baker? Does this make sense even understanding that pay is not correlated with skill or effort in an especially accurate manner in our current capital system?

This consideration has particular relevance for those of us graduating from Bowdoin in the coming spring as we prepare to enter the job market. Bowdoin’s Career Planning Center recently launched a campaign entitled “Just the Fact” through which they are trying to dispel the notion that they only serve students seeking to go into careers like finance and consulting. They highlight extensive alumni involvement in non-profit and artisan sectors across the country. How does this tie into the trends we considered in class? Is this campaign a reflection of the desire for authenticity that Ocejo discusses?

Should we all just seek out the job, divorced from meaning and ethics, which will pay the most? I certainly hope not.

In Race, Class, and Politics in the Cappuccino City, Derek Hyra discusses the Black Branding of Shaw/U Street that is used to boost the redevelopment of the neighborhood, illustrating how “many aspects of Shaw/U Street’s Black history and culture have been woven into the community’s fabric and linked with the area’s redevelopment” (88). He cites Kathy Smith as an individual heavily involved with Shaw/U Street historic preservation projects. She asserts that the neighborhood actually has one of the “city’s richest histories” (82); however, due to its more recent reputation of being a dangerous area, not many people desire reside there. In order to enact her historical preservation projects and “attract people to the community, she had to convince outsiders that the neighborhood was more than its short-sighted association with blight, drugs, crime and prostitution,” which was essentially a mission to “change the negative iconic ghetto stereotype with the community’s more recent past” (82). Hence, the Black Broadway narrative was shaped, presenting the neighborhood’s history as a form of Cultural Tourism.

However, Hyra indicates that there is reason to be skeptical about the historic Black brand being “directly tied to its current economic revitalization” (88). He proposes, in turn, that Shaw/U Street’s redevelopment may be actually tied to its alignment with iconic ghetto stereotypes relating to crime, danger, and drugs. Hyra introduces the reader to a concept called “living the wire,” inspired by an HBO series and stemming from a desire particularly in the creative class to gain the ultimate “authentic” experience. Therefore, we learn that “to a certain extent, the neighborhood’s redevelopment thrives on the community remaining racially diverse or, more specifically, Black and edgy. It helps give the community its pulse, its vibe, its coolness- but this ‘construction of coolness’ reinforces and perpetuates traditional stereotypes to some degree” (98).

In looking at this new theory, it becomes clear that the iconic ghetto stereotypes that Shaw/U Street possess may actually gain more popularity among potential residents, especially members of the creative class, for its “authenticity.” I definitely recognize that somewhere along the line, this experience of “living the wire” has undoubtedly become extremely popular for members of younger generations such as my own. When Hyra used the words “construction of coolness,” I immediately thought of the drug-dealing teenagers in Peachville from our previous reading. Although there are obvious differences between the two contexts, there were parts of this section where I read about occurrences that did strike me as quite juvenile. For instance, when the residents brag about how “dangerous” their neighborhoods are at cocktail parties by talking about hearing gunshots and hearing about murders. By living in edgy neighborhoods, members of the creative class feel that they have some sort of “cool” capital and thus something to brag about.

Furthermore, when we read about the teenagers in Peachville, we read that they chose to deal drugs because it provided them with an opportunity to gain capital apart from the mainstream capital that they do not yet have access to acquiring. In a sense, they are compensating for capital that they do not have. In recalling this phenomenon, I began to wonder, if we are looking at these two cases of constructing alternative coolness in tandem: why do members of the creative class seek authenticity and coolness that is not mainstream? Is there something that makes creative class members feel inadequate that leads them to outsource for alternative means of capital? What role does authenticity play?