Thursday 15 December 2011

Hipsto-therapy

I don’t hate hipsters. I like their scarves. So why have I been so annoyed?

It occurs to me as I write, that this entry could turn into a piece of judgmental junk that I’m not proud of. So right of the bat, I’ll acknowledge two things:

1)    ‘Hipster’ is a culture I know very little about. I will do my best to hold back opinions and merely discuss observations. (One or two judgments, max.)
2)    My intention is use this blog as a form of hipsto-therapy, in order to better understand and resolve unwanted negative feelings towards my new neighbours. It’s possible that a public forum is not the place.

To get some initial insight into the subject, I decided I’d go straight to the source. I approached an anonymous friend, whom I believed to be a hipster. He quickly assured me he was not one (though apparently speaks the language fluently and gets invited to their bi-annual meetings. Probably only goes for the food).

His definition, quickly conveyed through text message, was loosely as follows:
1) Someone with no fixed form of employment
2) Someone with no ability to construct cohesive and pithy sentences
3) Someone with no actual need to wear glasses

I don’t think I’ll comment much on the first point. I was about to write something like ‘What are all these people doing in cafes in the middle of the day?’ until I looked around and found myself in a café in the middle of the day. With no fixed form of employment.

I don’t think I’ll comment too much on the last point either. I like the glasses. I wish I had the glasses. I wear beanies when I’m not chilly, and I guess non-prescription glasses is the next logical step…… But gosh aren’t there a lot of people in Fitzroy who have taken that step? (Judgment 1 of 2)

The second point is, however, an interesting one. Possibly it even drills down to the core of my pesky resentment. Transcribed below is a conversation I overheard in a café (in the middle of the day) last week, between a young man and woman of hipster-y nature (i.e. She had a feather in her hair and he was wearing a cardigan). (Judgment 2 of 2)

Her: I think I’d like to get into photography.
Him: Hmmm. I don’t like photography. I don’t think you can ever really capture a moment.
Her: You’re right. But sometimes you can capture a moment. You know?
Him: Yeah. Sometimes you can capture a moment.

Here is another conversation I overheard in a bar in Fitzroy, between a group of young glasses-ed hipstograms.

Him 1: There’s no such thing as fair trade.
Him 2: Yeah.
Him 3: Yeah.

For a while, it really bugged me that I had chosen to live in a suburb thats inhabitants had such a warped fashion:depth ratio.  But now I think I’ve figured it out.  And to be honest, I’m disappointed in myself that I didn’t figure it out sooner.

Unlike Harry and Voldemort, fashion and depth don’t rely on each other to flourish. They exist separately (but in Fitzroy quite often they exist together purely because of numbers). Having glasses and something to say doesn’t make people annoying. Talking about a moment doesn’t even make people annoying.

I think… Hipsters are hipsters. Annoying people are annoying people. Annoying hipsters are annoying. But hipsters aren’t annoying.

Plus I like their scarves.


Here is recent picture of me, in which I was accused of being ‘So Fitzroy’.  Is being a hipster about wearing dresses, reading the paper and drinking coffee? If so count me in.

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