This weekend, I nearly died of hipsters. Luckily, I not awash in dismissive, smug conversations about Best Coast, Small Black, School of Seven Bells and Grizzly Bear and how Animal Collective and MGMT are ‘so over’. It is probably good that music wasn’t a topic of conversation, because I’d have been taken down in a hail of skinny jeans, Salvation Army eyeglasses and ironic t-shirts.
I was celebrating friend Gerard’s birthday when it all happened. “I’m just warning you,” Natasha warned me, “Gerard’s friends are pretty hipsterish.” But I was not prepared for the fashionably unwashed and forcibly ironic wave that washed over me when I answered the door to let them inside.
After being in close proximity to the hipsters for more time than a sane man could have stood, I don’t really think I hate them anymore. They’re all just kind of naive and anchorless, and I kind of identify with that. In fact, so many of them are disillusioned English majors. Was that me? I don’t think it was, but I knew them when I was their age. There was a guy I knew in grad school who was one of them and I don’t remember his name but he was one of those people who is rude all the time because he has Great Thoughts about art and you don’t. I personally can’t think of any art that is more important than the viewer, but that’s how I roll, I guess and that’s maybe the wrong way to roll up in the scholarhood.
A scene from the evening:
I retire to the living room and turn on Food Network. After awhile, I join Natasha and friend Michael out on the front porch. They both meander back inside as a clutch of hipsters comes outside to smoke ironically. As they mill about, one of them, completely unaware that it was I who once sat in the living room, peers into the window and says:
HIPSTER: What loser is watching The Food Network?
Like Miranda Bailey, I stayed mum. Instead I watched Charlie die and now I feel guilty about not ever having liked him.
HIPSTER 2: I guess maybe if you aren’t paying attention to it, it’s good to watch. Like, ambient.
HIPSTER 3: Ooooh, CUPCAKE WARS!
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So much Rolling Rock. So. Much. Rolling Rock.