Will hep return? The reet pleat and the big beat? Is the new generation looking for the perfect martini and slow flirtation? PNS commentator Gabrielle Turner, not quite old enough to order a Cosmopolitan but otherwise with it all the way, explores these questions. Turner is on the staff of YO! (Youth Outlook), a newspaper by and about Bay Area young people produced by Pacific News Service.

I used to think I was a freak. People would give me weird looks every time I told them what kind of music I was listening to. They would slowly creep away from me the minute the term "swing" or "big band" came out of my mouth.

But now all that has changed. San Francisco has become a sort of Mecca for those of us who love the blare of a big horn section, a throwback to the heyday of Duke Ellington.

So, every Saturday night I sit eagerly on a dirty city bus and watch all the ladies and hip cats crowd on -- the women in short-sleeved, knee-length dresses, clunky high heels, and shiny finger waves, the sporting wingtips, sharply creased slacks, and fedoras. And I love every minute of it.

I want to chill in a place where the men come on to the ladies in the old-fashioned way -- a really hip lounge, where I can drink a nice martini (shaken, not stirred, hold the olive) and listen to a good beat while dressed to the 99999's. The only problem is that I'm not yet old enough to be an official member of the Cocktail Nation.

It's not that I don't like the music of my generation. I love it all: East Coast, West Coast (let's stop all the bull!), as well as alternative sounds like Fiona Apple and Rage Against the Machine. But sometimes I don't feel like diving into a mosh pit, or dancing at a rave until my clothes are sweat-soaked, or listening to some guy in the parking lot who is hitting on me and preaching to me about Jehovah at the same time (a true story).

The Cocktail Nation isn't about partying as hard as possible. It's about leisure and relaxation. Swing is about movement and releasing energy -- but not so much that your make-up gets smeared. The lounge is the place where the cats with a hip sway in their stroll can chase the sultry mice who are slowly waltzing ahead of them.

The Cocktail Nation that's alive and well in San Francisco is about an almost-forgotten era where gender roles were more clearly defined. Don't get me wrong. I am a diehard womynist, but it feels good just to talk to a gentleman in person, have a nice drink, enjoy some live music, and let the chips fall where they may. You can bet that as soon as I turn 21, you'll find me at the Cafe du Nord drinking a cosmopolitan and listening to Benny Goodman.