The Hipsters Scene (a rant)
by Jason Edwards
Living in Brooklyn, wearing ‘Roos, and drinking PBR is not ironic. A t-shirt emblazoned with an 80’s iron-on if that weird robotic orange dog from Battlestar Galactica, whether you got it at the thrift store at Urban Outfitters, is not ironic. It’s not kitsch or camp or cool. If YOU think it’s cool, fine, but I am telling you, it’s not cool.
It’s not BAD, either. I’m not saying it’s stupid or wrong, or misguided or to be disparaged or down-the-nose looked-at. It’s not anything is what I am saying. It doesn’t get a label.
The first guy who did it, yeah, okay. The one who got a genuine truckers hat when he went on that road trip. The first guy who wrote a poem about Lucky Charms. The first girl who wore thick horn-rimmed glasses on purpose. They were cool. For about a day.
Cool… well, cool cools off after awhile. I am not being cynical when I say: by the time it’s an identity, it’s an industry, it’s just another panel in Tapestry Americana.
You want to be ironic? Fail. You can’t be ironic on purpose. You can’t be cool on purpose. Cool doesn’t try. And irony isn’t planned. It’s barely even spontaneous. It’s accidental. If you tell people you mix stripes with polka dots because you just don’t care: you’re a liar. The person who truly doesn’t care doesn’t notice. And people who don’t notice don’t buy stripes or polka dots.
Your tattoos are not cool. Nor are your piercings. And no, sorry, you’re lack of cool is not nerd-chic either. You know what? Being an educated, articulate, dashing Oriental man in America in the 1830s, that would’ve been cool. But you’re not exotic. You’re endemic. You’re just another god damn fool who tries too hard.
Now, this, all of this, this screed: it’s not really for you. I am not actually speaking to you. If I see you with your Sony Walkman playing Falco while you read an old Archie comic book at Peet’s (“We’re Cool Cause We’re Not Starbucks”) I am not going to say any of this to you. I am going to leave you alone. I am going to hold my breath in case you’re wearing petuli, but that’s the extent to which I will manifest a change in my existence to make room for yours.
No, this is for people like me. People who see this hipsters, these scenesters, roll our eyes, make a sour face, and feel our knickers slowly twisting at the stupidity of it all. This rant, this mini-manifesto, this is permission for us to stop paying attention, to stop getting upset, to stop giving credence to something we don’t like by the simple act of not liking it.
Same with frat boys who listen to rap.
Ha ha! We are really old, because I agree with you 100%. I am so fucking sick of the PBR kick. I’m old, I have money and I will enjoy good beer and moderately priced wine, god dammit. Fuck you, hipsters!