leave your inhibitions at the door
I’ve been living a lie. In my defense, it’s not something that I realized myself until very recently. But I know, deep in my heart, that I need to confess to you that I’m not all that I’ve said I am.
My name is John, and…. I’m a Hipster.
Since the early days of this blog, the one group that I’ve most made fun of and talked about dismissively have been Hipsters. No, make that second most – hippies are #1. I’ve made fun of Hipster bars, their music, their clothes. Yet, I didn’t realize that I was truly one of them. I guess the fact that I even have a blog at all – let alone one full of sarcasm and snarkiness – makes it pretty likely that I’m a Hipster.
The signs were there, but I was sooooo oblivious to them.
A few Saturdays ago, we were having brunch with my lovely niece and I had mentioned a link that La Vida Laura posted. It’s a very funny Tumblr site – Pictures of Hipsters Taking Pictures of Food. I pulled it up on my iPhone and we proceeded to flip through all the pictures, giggling at each one.
Then my niece hits me with this:
Why are you laughing? You are totally a hipster.
Huh?!? No flippin’ way! First off, I’m way too old to be one. I’m pretty sure your hipster card gets pulled at 25 and I’m slightly past that. And by “slightly” I mean “when that ship sailed, it actually had sails.” Second, I’m at a stage in my life where I have a somewhat successful career and a very comfortable lifestyle. Hipsters are supposed to be barely making it in Brooklyn like all the people on HBO’s Girls.
Then she took this picture:
Let’s count the Hipster offenses:
- We were at The Espresso Bar, probably the most hipster of the hipster coffee houses here in A2.
- I was taking a picture of my waffles with fried chicken. (They were awesome, btw.)
- Dark grey hoodie made by Alternative. (ouch)
- Purchased at Ragstock (double ouch)
- Hair messed up from hipster Carhartt cap. Here’s a pic of the hat.
- Skinny jeans (not shown)
- Hipster glasses
- Hipster phone case
Wow. I was reduced to a mumbling mess. It was like someone walloped me over the head with a giant wooden mallet. I made it a point to fight it. HARD. But failed at every turn. First, one of the fins from my cute little cartoony half penguin, half dog phone cover broke -
So I decided I was going to get something more “normal” -
Not only did I replace it with something just as Hipster-ish, I bought one of those damn retro-phone headsets for it.
Then I decided to give my little collection of Labbit vinyl toys to my kids…
…and went and got a Tupac vinyl toy.
I did it just to prove that I could be a bad-ass, but forgot that VINYL TOYS IN GENERAL ARE FOR HIPSTERS. And I bought it at Urban Outfitters – the anti-Gap. Oofah.
So after weeks of soul-searching and honest self-evaluation, I’ve finally come to terms with my Hipsterism. I’m NOT going to be afraid to unnecessarily carry small items in a messenger bag. I’m going to BUY that Tegan & Sara album. I’m going to get a haircut like that dude from Fun.
From now on, I’m going to wear my Hipster badge with pride – permanently affixed to my lightweight long-sleeved shirt I just got at American Apparel. I’m a Hipster, damnit!
Whew, that felt good.
Are you an in-the-closet hipster, too? Or are you out and proud!?!