Stuff Hipsters Hate (7 page)

Fancy Cocktails:
“Why in the name of all that is holy is the drink that you are currently clutching in your claws
pink
? I bet you shelled out, what, like 15 large for that sugar-infested, weak-ass beverage, which most likely goes by a moniker best suited to a stripper. I’d much rather earn my epic hangover the hard way—by drinking an entire sixer by my lonesome and then sharing a bottle of whiskey with my lady friend of ambiguous romantic status, who, I can assure you, would never drink anything pink—except maybe that red-flavored Four Loko.”

 

Girls Who Dance Their Way onto the Dance Floor:
“I hate you, three girls in bright dresses, looking like popsicles on heels and exchanging the overly excited, “Should we dance?!” nods. Now the three of you, shoulders swaying, hips bobbing, stank faces at full throttle, snake your way through the bar and deep into the crowded dance floor, leaving a sea of swiveling bros’ heads in your wake. You couldn’t wait ’til you got to the actual fucking dance floor to dance? Am I gonna see you twirking in a cage that floats slowly down from the ceiling like some stupid
Crouching Dragon Hidden Whatever
special effect? Christ. Stephen, let’s find a falafel stand and a liquor store and call it a night.”

 

 

[CASE STUDY]

 

Lionel S. is a particularly stylin’ brand of hipster. As a child, Lionel was mocked for his intense predilection for neon baseball caps and clogs. With eerie prescience, he bucked mall fashions and wore Doc Martens when everyone else was saving up for Nikes. But once he hit his 20s, local girls began fawning over his horn-rimmed glasses and whimsical horse-head belt buckles, and he thanked his lucky stars that when he was a youngster, his mother never bought him the “cool” Tommy Hilfiger shit the rest of the class adored—the gateway (designer) drugs to sure bro-ism.

 

 

 

One sunny day in December of 2008, Lionel visited his local Goodwill, where he purchases the majority of his clothing (with the exception of his raw denim skinny jeans, on which he spends the equivalent of one month’s rent). Upon entering the store, he spied a red mechanic’s jumpsuit hanging from the wall next to an array of so-ugly-they’re-cool Cosby sweaters. Emblazoned across the front pocket was the name “Ted.” Bursting with excitement, Lionel purchased said jumpsuit (for the low, low sum of $6.99), and proceeded to wear it every Wednesday for three months. He referred to the article of clothing simply as “Ted.” Girls swooned over Lionel when he was attired in “Ted,” and wrote Missed Connections to: “The tattooed dreamboat in a mechanic’s jumpsuit who barbacks on Wednesday nights at the Wreck Room. You can give me a tune-up anytime, Buster.”

 

 

Then, right around the time a sizable hole appeared in the vicinity of “Ted”’s left elbow, jumpsuits began showing up at every flea market and vintage store this side of the East River. Girls wore modified versions known as “jumpers,” and everyone was totally loving the ease with which a single article of clothing could be removed before a poorly planned act of drunken copulation. Lionel, however, felt a queer anger growing in the pit of his stomach, so comfortably concealed behind the panel of fabric. As he read Missed Connections every evening, Lionel found it increasingly difficult to discern to which “tattooed dreamboat” they were written. Consequently, Lionel began wearing his beloved “Ted” once a month. By the time Urban Outfitters stocked its first jumper, Lionel had donated “Ted” to the Goodwill from whence it came, and, in its stead, had brought home a particularly gaudy Christmas vest festooned with genuine blinking lights.

 

 

a. 1600s-1700s: Scottish Highlanders (who saw it as a symbol of self-identification and rebellion)

b. 1800s-1900s: British Upper Crust (who wanted to make like Victoria and Albert and the Duke of Windsor)

c. 1970s-1980s: Punks (who appropriated and bastardized the fabric as a big “fuck you” to the British Upper Crust)

d. 1980s: Preppies (who enjoyed being Anglophiles and feeling refined in their Ralph Lauren)

e. 1990s: Grunge kids (who enjoyed its androgynous nature)

f. 2000s: Copious designers (who got it from musicians/grunge kids)

g. 2000s-2010s: Hipsters (who enjoyed the working man, mountaineer aspect of the look and saw it as a “fuck you” to traditional American society)

h. 2010-?: Tweens (who bought it at Forever 21)