Lifestyles of the hip and... heinous?
I haven't been much of a participant in the recent hipness discussions, despite following them closely, for the primary reason that no stretch of the imagination could render me "hip." I may have occasionally approached said status at various periods in my life, to small, closed communities (such as to the girls in my dorm when I was a dean), but we all know that doesn't count in the real world.
When I think of hipsters, there are a few people I think of in particular. One is a tall, thin art student that I see around the art building and town. He has smallish plastic-framed glasses, a silver nose ring, and large washers stretching his earlobes. His hair is artfully unkempt, his shoes of either the skater or biker variety. This bike, his sole means of transportation--except for his other bike--looks like a piece and is covered in stickers, but apparently has a Cannondale racing frame, fancy Shimano gears, and all sorts of other fanciness. I learned this today when he sat next to me to eat his sandwich in Panera.
Yes, Panera. My beloved coffeeshop, Grounds for Thought (where I also sometimes see him), was packed far too full this afternoon to facilitate any sort of useful studying, so I crossed the street to what is usually a faithful, if uninspiring, standby when I travel and need internet: Panera. I was on a couch in the back, reading Lacan, when I saw Mr. Hipster come in. I was already feeling shy about being there, and when he showed up with his sandwich and sat by me, I actually asked if he'd already been to GFT and found it too full. He hadn't; apparently genuine hispters aren't ashamed to be seen in the Panera. Neither are they, at least in Ohio, standoffish. I didn't even know his name when he sat down, but by the time we left, we'd talked about topics from toe straps to face masks, Louisville to Dayton, and Mexican food to urban sprawl.
Does this make me hip by proximity? Doubtful. Do I now have a genuine hipster friend (in addition to Ellen)? I'd like to think so.
8 comments:
ceri, i think you're hip. your rolled up pants with argyle socks and red shoes are a dead give away. as are your wild curls and obvious intelligence. i think of you as a happy hipster.
I'm loving the photos of your stomping ground in Autumn - divine.
I AM NOT A HIPSTER!!!
Angela thinks being hip is a good thing. (Thank you, Angela, for your kindness!) But you don't disappoint, Ellen, on the expected reaction!
i agree on the argyle socks point. argyle socks with jean leg rolled up to accomodate bike riding definitely equals hip. especially with pink leather mary janes.
and ellen is so hip that it's hard to look at her...kind of like trying to look at the sun.
a hipster here is different then a hipster there.
wow. the only exchange i've ever had with a stretched-ear-lober was to tell them i'd like paper, please (at whole foods--and no, that doesn't make me hip because i only buy milk and eggs and their cheapest bread).
words of wisedom from leah!
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