Do you ever have one of those moments when you start to shrink? It’s right after you look around the room you’re in and realize everyone is way cooler than you. So you feel very small and you quietly Shrinky-Dink into the wall and maybe question your existence? How did you get here anyway? That is how I feel everyday living in New York City.

I used to think I was pretty cool. I wear vintage clothes, watch old movies for fun and I listen to classic rock. I pretty much do whatever I want and I don’t really care if people understand me, as long as they are nice to me.

But then I got to New York City, and I realized I was experiencing a whole new level of coolness, except it was radiating in beams from everyone but me. Everyone I’ve met here has at least three decidedly cooler-than-you factors like: they speak more than one language, or they come from another country, or they are related to a celebrity, or they wear perfectly distressed vintage denim all year long, or they don’t even sweat in hot yoga or in the Manhattan summer heat, on top of the fact that they live in New York City. And they don’t even seem to know or care, which makes them even cooler.

Picture this: last week, I was invited to an artsy, Off-Broadway theatre showcase. After one of the most awesome shows I’ve seen, there was casually an after party in the loft of this hipster, yet still mainstream enough to be somewhat famous, theatre. The loft overlooked the neighborhood, and it was packed with people who were all pretty much semi-famous in the theatre world in their own right. All of them were wearing clothes that looked like they came right out of an LA movie premiere cocktail hour, half of them mysteriously androgynous. There was a full bar selling fancy alcohol I had never seen before (I was not worthy) and the best part was in the corner there was a fabulous drag queen, casually popping champagne to celebrate this ordinary Thursday night surrounded by her posse of contoured fabulous misfit worshipers. (Oh wait, that’s me too).

But of course, everyone was so nice. Everyone was kind enough to make conversation with me, and when they asked me where I was from I had to murmur “North Carolina." That’s right, land of HB2, racism, and Donald Trump fans. As much fun as I had that night, I felt very, very tiny. I started reframing my life’s mega-plan on the train ride home to incorporate the fact that one day I needed to be one of those people and have a social circle like that. But how do I get there? Is it about money? Perhaps murder will be necessary?

Even the elderly here are cooler than me. They sit across from me on the train, dining al fresco with the OG (paper) version of the New York Times mysteriously covering half their face, classier than I’ll ever be. They all wear hipster Warby Parker glasses and the same kind of plaid button downs I’m pretty sure my little brother thrift shops for on the weekend. This morning, I found myself staring at an adorable old man on the train and telepathically begging him to be my best friend for 20 minutes.

So, what am I supposed to do about this problem where everyone is cooler than me? I cannot live my life this way, because I will eventually shrink into a puddle and melt into the floorboards every time my eyes roll back in my head with awe and jealousy at someone else’s very existence. And that is not going to get me any closer to accomplishing my goal for the summer, meeting my idol Amy Schumer.

Okay, so I came up with a plan for what to do when everyone is cooler than you. Please take my guide and use it for yourselves, friends, when you find you may need it in your life.

The first step to solving this problem is admitting you have a problem. I’m talking about vulnerability. There is an extreme power in vulnerability. Just go around worshiping the cool people openly, and they will eventually rub off on you. Seriously, don't be afraid to compliment people, and ask them questions about what you want to know. People love to talk about themselves. Literally ask random people to tell you their life story or for advice or information, it’s totally worth it and you will learn so much. Ask for help. Ask someone to tell you where the cool flea markets are in Brooklyn, or where the best places are to be on a Saturday night. Just admit you don’t know, but you want to, and people will usually respond to that openly.

Step two. Fake it until you make it. You need to observe and assimilate. Take hours out of each day to open your eyes and study these cool people. People watching is now serious business. How do these people walk, what do they wear, where are they going? Make a list of these observations and then adapt them to your life.

For me, this meant buying jeans. This was a big life step for me, because I do not wear jeans. But alas, no one here in Manhattan really wears shorts everyday, so I have since invested in multiple pairs of jeans to up my coolness factor each day. This is a prime example of getting out of your comfort zone and assimilating into a culture of cool.

But the most important step is step three. Which is to realize and understand that you are actually cool enough to be in the same room as the daunting refrigerator of human life energy where you have found yourself. Your presence amongst these new friends (or idols) means the universe has accepted and put you into this plane of energy. You made it here-- now just relax and enjoy! You are here amongst these inspiring individuals for a reason. If anything, savor this lucky opportunity to just be.

And you are cool enough because… you showed up. You said yes and accepted an invitation to something out of your comfort zone, or maybe you had the balls to get your own invitation. Or you didn't leave the room when you felt the initial shrinky-dink sensation. You held your own and stood there and smiled and nodded and let it all happen around you.

What does it even mean to be “cool” anyway? It’s more than vintage 501 Levi’s and James Dean leather jackets. The most important thing I have learned from all of these moments and experiences with the people I’ve met in New York City is that being cool is loving who you are. Some of it is not caring what others think of you, but that is really difficult. What is atomically cool across the board, however, is learning to love who you uniquely are and owning that, every single day.

So when you are getting dressed in the morning, and frustratingly redoing your winged eyeliner over and over again, remember that all you have to do is to set a simple intention to be "cool," Love yourself for who you are, and own it, each and every day.