Up until yesterday, that sort of thing made me laugh. A form of reverse snobbery. My hood's not hip! It's just where I live, you know? My slightly grotty non-descript bit of London that's mostly office buildings and cafs.
As I said, that was until yesterday when I discovered that I'd been living with a Rock Star. Not exactly living with, more like him living in the flat upstairs. It turns out that we've been living cheek by jowl with Ricky Wilson, lead singer the Kaiser Chiefs, et femme for the past year. I had no idea. I just thought she had nice shoes.
What can I tell you. It's London, y'know? Neighbours don't talk. Besides, a rock star? Why would he rent the flat upstairs? In Hackney? Hey, it's London. People do crazy stuff.
Before you get all carried away and show up on the doorstep, they've moved out. We could apply for a Blue Plaque http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/discover/blue-plaques/ to immortalise their stay but that would risk cooling our HF (Hip Factpor) by several degrees.
You see, genuine hipness is all about understatements and playing things down. Which is why utter cluelessness can sometime pass for hipness (like that time when I completely blanked Sienna Miller in the bathroom at The Ivy because I wasn't wearing my glasses. Shhh.. namedropping is seriously not hip.)
Now we have a duty to nurture our its reputation, who wants to stand accused of bringing down the hood?