In Which I Wonder Whether I’m a Hipster
I just wrote a whole post on moving to Bushwick and whether or not I’m a hipster, and the damn Internet ate almost all of it. The only good part I have left is this: The Theory of Hipster Relativity.
Is that amusing enough to justify a whole post? Should I bother asking you, dear reader, what a hipster is, and if I fit into the box? To sum up what I so eloquently wrote before,
in the yes column we have: young, white, urban, creative, working class, of middle-class origins, into indie rock, thrift store shopper, L-train rider
and in the no column: not a culture snob, not a cultural appropriator, probably not a gentrifier, definitely not into Vice or Pitchfork, doesn’t dress like a hipster (I’m much too plain, sometimes verging on preppy)
What do you think? Is assholery a necessary condition of hipsterdom? Do you think it even matters? I mean, cultural appropriation, gentrification, and general jerkitude definitely matter, so I’m going with ‘yes, it matters, so give me an answer.’ Please.
People toss around “hipster” all the time, but when I ask them what exactly a “hipster”, I have never received anything but convoluted contempt.
hipster, in contemporary parlance, is a non-specific, catch-all pejorative term. There is no content to the word, only contempt, contempt and an implied sense of superiority regarding the targets apparent insincerity/irony/trendiness.
It’s a dismissive, derogatory term and I’m really fucking sick of it.
You’re with the Theory of Hipster Relativity, then, I suppose.