The only recent event to take place on American soil that might have been hyped as vigorously as the release of Apple's iPhone was the release of Paris Hilton. At his initial announcement last winter, before a cult of followers so lathered up I thought some of them would have to be sedated, Apple's CEO didn't hold back: "Every once in a while a revolutionary product comes along that changes everything," Steve Jobs said. For good measure, he added that "today Apple is going to reinvent the phone."

Mighty big words, and I took possession of my iPhone with mighty big expectations. It didn't take long, however, to realize that its mail service is nothing like a BlackBerry's and that it is impossible to cut and paste documents, or download attachments, or sync the Notes application between the iPhone and a computer. The headphone jack is recessed, so you will either have to perform (minor) surgery on your headphones, make do with the earbuds that Apple supplies, or get a clunky-looking adapter. The call quality on AT&T, the only choice you have, is mediocre. And when browsing your favorite Web sites over the EDGE data network be sure to bring along a Russian novel to pass the time while you wait. The "virtual" keyboard isn't bad, but it's called that for a reason: It isn't real. Between buying the iPhone and signing a two-year contract with AT&T, the costs can soar well over $1,000. Pretty expensive for a snappy new iPod.

I tried to keep all that in my mind as I began to fondle the smooth, beautifully milled handset. The touch screen leapt to life and a gorgeous Google map appeared before me. I quickly flipped through my photo album and address book. I called the phone from my home just to watch the Visual Voicemail. So simple: Why didn't anyone ever think of that before? Hype is short for hyperbole. It means an obvious and intentional exaggeration. A blatant overstatement. I tried to hate my iPhone. I wanted to. But what exactly had Jobs overstated? Was he exaggerating when he called it revolutionary? Not a bit. The truth, to invoke the memorable phrase of another iPhonomaniac, is that he had me at scrolling. Yes, the next version will be better. The next version always is. But this one, with its radical simplicity, will do for now. And it is precisely this simplicity that makes the phone different from any that came before it.

It is hard to make something simple. The modern world demands complexity, interaction, convergence—particularly with technology. The pressure is always for extra features and bells and whistles, which all require buttons and trackballs and wheels. Except at Apple. You get exactly one button on the iPhone and it's all you need. The revolution is not in how the phone handles the Internet, or the Wi-Fi experience. Or even the remarkable touch screen. Apple's real achievement is simplicity. That, not hype, sold nearly a million iPhones in the first 10 days of July. Apple has finally dropped the word computer from its corporate title. Why not? With Apple TV, iTunes, the iPod dynasty, and now the iPhone, computers are a small part of the game. And Jobs never forgets that it is a game. The iPhone is a lovely toy. And like the rest of Apple's products, its beauty is impossible to ignore.

I took mine straight to Paris, a city where people care deeply about beauty. Crowds gathered every time I pulled it out; you would have thought they were being introduced to fire. People gasped when I zoomed in on a picture by pinching my fingers. They wanted to touch it. One day at lunch, my waiter saw me showing off to a friend and asked if he could hold the iPhone for a minute or two. Before we knew it, the entire table got dessert on the house.