It's a dangerous word, hip. Not when used in the anatomical sense, of course, but whenever occurring in the context of fashion. The words of Blossom Dearie's satirical song I'm Hip spring to mind, with lines such as "I'm getting my kicks, watching arty French flicks with my shades on" and "I even call my girlfriend `man' I'm so hip." The problem lies in the essentially transitory nature of hipness; nothing is liable to date so fast as a hip attribution. Any object given this kind of tag will fall out of favour as fast as a Prada nylon bag (don't you realise it should now be the Prada Sport label?). Hip replacement is a constant (and serious) preoccupation in fashion circles.

So, a hotel favoured with the classification of hip ought to be seriously concerned, because this is a label which is very hard to win - but easy to lose. Were the establishments included in a new (and deeply hip) book merely to this season's taste, then they would scarcely be worth a glance.

But even a cursory look through Hip Hotels shows that - bar a few such as the Hempel in London and Miami's Pelican - the hotels in question all have much more to offer than hipness. Only one Dublin hotel is reckoned to make the hip grade and not surprisingly, it is the Clarence. There are many reasons why this should be so, not least the Clarence's style, which was summarised by Conde Nast Traveller as "understated - in a context of unstinting luxury".

The key word here is unstinting; unlike its aspiring rivals in Dublin, the Clarence exudes quality of workmanship and materials. There is a consistency of vision, an air of permanence and evidence of attention to detail that no other hotel in the city can match - although when the long-awaited Morrison on Ormond Quay finally opens for business, the Clarence may at last face a serious challenge. If the Clarence Hotel is hip, this is because it offers what the editor of Hip Hotels, Herbert Ypma, calls "that most neglected victim of 20th century progress - imagination."

Conservatism is the characteristic of Irish hoteliers, who prefer to opt for a thin veneer of established good taste rather than take risks. Like all veneers, this very soon starts to show chips and cracks, with the result that, just like Irish theme pubs, the entire interior has to be overhauled after less than a decade.

Irish hotels tend to imitate the tradition of grand European hotels on a minimal budget, always employing the same handful of decorative features such as brass railing, faux-Regency stripe wallpapers, wingback chairs, patterned carpets, heavily swagged curtains and gilt-framed classical prints. All are now standard issue and all indicative of tepid imagination. But as Mr Ypma's book proves, a hotel does not have to look new - or even be new - to achieve hipness. Among the long-established properties included are the 150-year-old Florentine Helvetia & Bristol and the 1930s Chateau Marmont and Tides Hotels in Los Angeles and Miami respectively. All have retained their original characters while being carefully updated with the addition of new technology and comforts so that they do not have the appearance of being trapped in a time warp.

HIP hotels are rarely part of a chain, although a number of Four Seasons establishments are obvious exceptions to this rule. In Milan, the Four Seasons on Via Gesu occupies a 15th century former convent, with remnants of a fresco cycle preserved on the walls of the reception hall.

In New York, the same chain's monumental hotel (at 52 stories the tallest in the city) was designed earlier this decade by I.M. Pei and features a massive, Gotham-like lobby with towering bronze urns, marble floors and an onyx ceiling.

All of which suggests that the Four Seasons currently being built in Ballsbridge should help to raise standards of hotel hipness in Dublin and help to ensure the Clarence is not alone in this book's second edition.

Hip Hotels: City, by Herbert Ypma. Thames & Hudson, £18.95 sterling.