For some time now, I’ve been meaning to write to the editors of my favorite magazine, National Geographic Traveler to say this: I love you, but could you quit throwing the word “authentic” around? Nitpicky, obsessively literal, and probably very annoying, I know. But stick with me.
Here’s the definition of authentic from Webster’s via Dictionary, trimmed for the etymology and pronunciation details):
1. Having a genuine original or authority, in opposition to that which is false, fictitious, counterfeit, or apocryphal; being what it purports to be; genuine; not of doubtful origin; real; as, an authentic paper or register.
To be avenged On him who had stole Jove’s authentic fire. –Milton.
2. Authoritative. [Obs.] –Milton.
3. Of approved authority; true; trustworthy; credible; as, an authentic writer; an authentic portrait; authentic information.
4. (Law) Vested with all due formalities, and legally attested.
5. (Mus.) Having as immediate relation to the tonic, in distinction from plagal, which has a correspondent relation to the dominant in the octave below the tonic.
This is my deal: I don’t think you can describe a place as authentic as though it could be real or fake unless you’re talking about an actually facsimile of place, like the Venetian in Vegas or the Polynesian Cultural Center on Oahu. These are reproductions of places that exist in the real world as real places. The Venetian and the Cultural Center are freaky fake. The “authentic” places aren’t so scrubbed; the canals of Venice are stinky, Oahu has crazy traffic. There’s no Starbuck’s in Venice, but seven bucks for a cappucino? And the real Hawaii is covered with food chains, they’re everywhere.
