Q: How Do You Kill a Hipster? A: Drown Him in the Mainstream.

I know there was a promise made about spilling the Kona Coffee beans re: my Hawaiian adventure–but I have to put that project on the back burner for a moment.

Because:

My boss sent me an article on an individual SO adventurous and SO daring that it put my trip to shame. Brave Henry Alfred (who, if I had my ‘druthers would be knighted if we did that sort of thing in America) went undercover into the world of the Williamsburg, Brooklyn Hipster. For those of you that don’t know what a hipster is: have you been living under a rock?! 

Actually, no. Let me not insult your intelligence–for you are far better off not knowing about this subset of young people, usually caucasian and springing from upper middle class families. But just in case you’re a masochist, here’s a photo that’ll give you a clue:

Don't judge a book by–just kidding. Judge away | Photo Credit: Google Images, Baby

Don’t judge a book by–just kidding. Judge away. | Photo Credit: Google Images: “Hipster”

ANYWAY, Sir Henry Alfred went undercover to the epicenter of the New American Hipster and lived to tell the tale. Let it be known that Portland, OR is the original homeland of the species, but Brooklyn has now fallen into the overzealous hands of the 20-something-non-comformists.

Read Lord Henry Alfred of Manhattan’s full account here before continuing on with my post.

Or, if you skipped his article, I am using some of the best quotes in the following critique. These are my thoughts on his experience and I hope never to be in his vintage shoes:

I had fallen into conversation with the affinity marketer…I guessed aloud, “So, like, if I buy a pair of shoes, then you’ll try to sell me socks?” The affinity marketer smiled and said: “Or maybe something bigger, like flooring. You buy a pair of shoes, I sell you reclaimed hardwood flooring.” Well, this kid is certainly good at selling bullshit, I’d love to see what he could do with some “vintage” lawn chairs. 

 
 When I layered the corduroy shirt over the H. W. Carter shirt, the effect was homespun and slightly raffish: a country-store clerk who has lost his spectacles in the barley.” I’ve always wanted to look like a half-blind, hick shop owner that would be less out of place in an adaptation of The Grapes of Wrath than on the streets of a major metropolitan city.

 
“Roberta’s has the ugliest entrance of any restaurant I’ve ever seen, barbed wire leading to heavily graffitied concrete cinder blocks: gulag in da hood. I waited almost an hour for a table.” I say we just throw all the hipsters in jail–same scenery, maybe better food, and they can brag to their friends that they enjoyed “prison tourism” before it was cool.
 
“This company makes it a point to wind-sail its cocoa beans from the Dominican Republic to Brooklyn, then to hand-sort these beans, then to let its chocolate “rest” 30 days before sale.” The only ‘resting’ a piece of chocolate within a 50 mile radius of me will be doing is IN MY BELLY–immediately.
 
 a collection of Ronald Reagan’s speeches, a 1993 book about the health care crisis and “Hitler Laughing: Comedy in the Third Reich. Her eyes widening, the employee called the store’s owner on her cellphone and recited the titles to him. “We can offer you two dollars for the ‘Third Reich’ one,” she soon told me. “But these other two are …” So I helped her out with, “Their resale potential is more muted.”  If I had to choose between Reagan and Hitler…well…let’s just say, she made the right choice. 
 
I know now that if the economy sours further, I can trade in all my books for herbal diuretics.” Thank GOD because I have been looking for an establishment such as this. 
 
In conclusion, this writer is a badass and I loved reading this article. However, you won’t catch me near the wilds of Williamsburg.
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Disney Hipsters--the only acceptable breed | Photo credit: hipstermemes.tumblr.com

Disney Hipsters–the only acceptable breed | Photo credit: hipstermemes.tumblr.com

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