THE CURRENCY OF RELEVANCE: NAVIGATING THE BATTLE BETWEEN SCENE AND INTERNET COOL
Social media doesn’t necessarily create societal issues, but it does have the habit of amplifying them, putting our insecurities under a microscope, our aspirations on blast, and especially increasing the desire to be perceived as relevant. This isn’t a new phenomenon, as relevance has been a form of social currency for centuries. But social media has repackaged it and completely transformed how people interact with the concept. Individuals now hold these ‘relevance tokens’ over others, accessing niche in-groups, and even gaining free entry into exclusive circles if they’re sporting the right brands—Balenciaga, Vetements, or Rick Owens.
Antonio Gary Jr. (@antoniogaryjr), a strategist on culture, brands, and trends from New York City, dissected this in an Instagram reel titled The Cost of Cool: Scene Cool vs. Internet Cool. He breaks down the evolving dynamics of relevance between what he calls “scene cool” and “internet cool.” Referencing writer Sean Monahan (@8ball_sean), Gary Jr. explores the characteristics that distinguish these two modes of coolness, which, at their core, represent a shift in how culture is consumed and projected. Take Caroline Polachek, for instance. In the “scene cool” realm, she’s a pop artist who thrives on the edges—if you know, you know. Charli XCX, on the other hand, after years of navigating indie fame, broke through with Brat, cementing herself as “internet cool.”
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Scene Cool vs. Internet Cool: Two Cultural Ecosystems
‘Scene cool’ is rooted in the underground, curated by a subculture that values unspoken rules and exclusivity. The following traits, captured by Monahan, include high-quality niche content. It thrives on harbinger consumers—people whose tastes contradict the mainstream but eventually define future trends. This group is obsessed with gossip, frequents obscure restaurants they won’t tell you about, and secretly might be longing for recognition. Scene cool often finds itself in spaces like the Dover Street Market, where exclusive merch drops feel like modern-day totems of belonging. There’s a deep ambivalence here, an intentional avoidance of mass appeal, yet a desire to not be forgotten.
In this world, pretension becomes a defense mechanism. Scene cool prides itself on exclusivity, and keeping artists and designers underground is a badge of honor titled: “everything you like, I liked five years ago.” Followers of this cool might own Rick Owens sneakers and revel in not answering questions about the cryptic places they frequent. Their playlists are filled with subgenres most haven’t even heard of—and they like it that way.
On the flip side, internet cool is almost the polar opposite. It thrives in the light of mass-market appeal, where virality defines success. Internet cool is tied to mainstream culture and driven by popular content that racks up sales and online engagement. It embraces drama and spectacle—think SKIMS campaigns, celebrity gossip, and oversharing. This group has reservations at your least-favorite celebrities’ favorite restaurants and worships products that trend on TikTok for a month. If scene cool is about obscurity, internet cool is about omnipresence. The secret desire of internet cool is to be edgy again. Once you’re part of the mainstream, maintaining relevance becomes a cycle of reinventing yourself before the next wave of trends renders you irrelevant. Participating individuals would be the easily influenced subgroup; think Rhode phone case, 818 Tequila, and Frankie’s Bikinis.
Yet there are examples of harmony. Take music’s ultimate style duo, Rihanna and A$AP Rocky. Together, they personify a fusion of scene and internet cool. Rihanna’s mainstream success is undeniable, but A$AP Rocky maintains a foothold in both the scene and internet spheres. Their relationship seems to embody a coexistence that others in these worlds refuse to acknowledge. We also see this harmony achieved in the dance/electronic space, where once underground artists are reaching a certain level of internet cool but are desperate to maintain authenticity and engage their original fanbase in the midst of their success
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But this harmony is rare. Typically, the tension between scene and internet cool is palpable. The underground detests the internet’s mindless consumption and lack of originality. Meanwhile, the internet mocks the scene’s air of exclusivity and inaccessibility. Each side holds contempt for the other’s perceived flaws: the scene’s fear of mass appeal and the internet’s craving for constant visibility.
Where Do You Fall?
The cool spectrum, as articulated by Monahan and amplified by Gary Jr., reflects a dichotomy that’s as much about identity as it is about taste. I don’t choose sides, nor do I identify with either group entirely. The truth lies somewhere in the middle, as these are exaggerated extremes of the same spectrum. I do see people living in both spaces, and Monahan’s framework offers a sharp way to think about these concepts.
What makes this spectrum so fascinating is that, despite the division, neither group exists completely in isolation. The scene needs the internet for exposure, and the internet craves the legitimacy that comes from the scene. At the end of the day, wherever you fall on this line, you are never alone in your interests. That sense of belonging, however unknown or unconscious, is what drives both communities.
As much as each group resists the other, both are bound by the same desire to be seen, relevant, and, most importantly, to be cool. The ‘cost of cool,’ then, isn’t just in the clothes you wear or the places you go. It’s in the constant negotiation of who you are in relation to the world, whether you’re playing to the scene or broadcasting to the masses.