Living in the Mission of San Francisco, I get a first hand look at hipsters very often, but normally it is a collection of observations and daily interactions like buying coffee and groceries and delicious pastries from them. And now that I think of it, one of them cuts my hair and she deserves her very own blogpost so maybe soon I'll share about that. But every once and a while, they surprise me. Allow me to share the common definition of a hipster:
okay just now as I was searching for a wonderful explanation of what a hipster is, I got distracted by the overwhelmingly hilarious definitions on Urban Dictionary. You must check it out
here. Thoroughly entertaining!
Meanwhile, here are some of the best (and in color are the descriptions that fit me as well, mostly due to my laziness and not my "angst against mainstream society")
\hip-stur\n. Listens to bands that you have never heard of. Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.) Probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any. Has friends and/or self cut hair. Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds). Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt). Chips off nail polish artfully after $50 manicure. Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops. Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Kamel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine. Claims to be in a band. Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR. Always on the list. Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies. Name-drops (why yes I do drop Carol Hannah's name). May go by "Penny Lane," "Eleanor Rigby," etc. when drunk. On PBR. Which is usually.
Hipsters are a subculture of men and women typically in their 20's and 30's that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter. The greatest concentrations of hipsters can be found living in the Williamsburg, Wicker Park, and Mission District neighborhoods of major cosmopolitan centers such as New York, Chicago, and San Francisco respectively. Although "hipsterism" is really a state of mind,it is also often intertwined with distinct fashion sensibilities. Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often be seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses.
Basically, my general perception of them is that they are artistic, musical and fun-loving 20-somethings who don't shower and are very creative; and I generally think I would get along with them if they didn't come across as so pretentious.
So now that we have all that background, allow me to share with you what happened this morning.
I woke up, ate some cereal, and headed out of the house to pick up Kaili (my sweet dear roommate) who got her wisdom teeth taken out this morning and I was going to help her home. It is important to note here that I did not
1. put on real clothes.
2. brush my teeth.
3. wash my face.
4. brush my hair (although that one I was intending to do and just forgot)
So to draw you a picture here, I'm wearing my black sweatpants (from the The Limited that I bought about 4 years ago and I love because they are 100% modal, the softest manufactured fabric I've ever touched), tucked into my Uggs (sexy right?, nothing like baggy pants tucked into Uggs), my t-shirt from Disneyland (a peace sign made out of mickey mouse heads) I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! In my defense, I do have my black furry minx jacket over that ridiculous shirt and finally my sherpa-lined "I'm a baby sheep" hat from Christmas that I blogged about a while ago. I would say that this is NOT normally what I wear on a daily basis but that would be a lie. So I head to the bus in my pajamas that I've now turned into ready-to-wear. And it's raining.
So I jump on the 22 and I'm not sure if I've mentioned the 22 to you before. I like to call the 22 the douce douce (I'm aware that in Spanish it would really be dos dos but saying it the other way just comes out so much easier and funnier) and in my opinion, it is the angriest bus in the city, mostly because I've seen multiple fights break out on it and it goes through some sketchy areas of town. I normally just try to sit there unnoticed and don't worry, plenty of normal people ride it as well.
The bus is pretty full and sitting across from me is hipster guy (fitting most of the descriptions above). But this hipster guy is different, because he is making way too much bus eye contact for someone who is supposed to be "too cool for school". So we arrive at the lower haight stop (hippie central) and he stands up. By the way, blue writing will indicate my thoughts here. This would be his stop. Sorry, I'm inappropriately judgmental sometimes. But he doesn't get off. He looks like he has changed his mind but continues to stand even though there are seats. Well it is raining, maybe he is debating how close he can get to where he's going. Several stops go by. Well this is just weird, why doesn't he just sit down?!
Hipster dialogue. Katie Pearls dialogue.
Do you have a pen I could use?
Excuse me?
Do you have a pen I could use?
Oh. Rummage through my bag and hand him Martha Stewart calligraphy marker (did I mention this is embarrassing because he is rather cute?)
Hipster scribbles something on card.
oh my goodness, is it possible he's writing down his phone number? this is awkward.
Puts paper away and hands back pen.
Thank you.
I'm ridiculous. He's normal.
No problem.
Seat opens up next to me. Hipster finally sits down.
Finally.
hey, did you go to CCA?
quick, rack your brain and try to know what that stands for. ahh... nope no idea.
No, I don't know what that is.
I'm from the South and unaware of most California things even though I've lived here over a year. Did I mention that I gave the wrong directions to someone the other day to a street that apparently is right in front of my house?
It's the California College of the Arts.
Hipster!
You just look familiar and I wondered if that's how I knew you.
Well that explains the staring. Makes sense. Katie Pearls, be nice. Do not blow him off.
Maybe it's from somewhere else. I live in the Mission near 17th and Guerrero.
Creepster, why'd you tell him where you live?
oh okay, I live at 17th and Mission.
So maybe I've just seen you around.
I don't think we hang out in the same places for some reason though.
So what are you up to today?
I'm going to get my friend who got her wisdom teeth taken out today and help her home since she'll be pretty drugged up.
oh that's nice of you. What's your name?
okay, but what I heard was what's your friend's name? I know it doesn't make sense that I would answer...
Kaili
yet I did.
I'm Greg. It's nice to meet you.
No, my name's Katie. Kaili's my friend.
you are not allowed to talk to strangers anymore Katie Pearls until you can learn your own name.
Oh.
probably thinks I gave him a fake name.
okay for your sake and mine, this is the part where hipster kid proceeds to ask me what I do, how long I had to go to school for etc. I answered everything honestly.
What do you do?
I work in making films, I'm doing some pretty cool projects right now.
of course you do.
That's great. Sounds like a lot of fun.
What are you up to this week?
OMG!
Just working, you know, normal life things.
what the hell kind of answer was that? you couldn't think of one cool thing to tell him you were doing.
Would you want to hang out sometime?
what the hell? (yes I do swear frequently in my inner dialogue, sorry) do you normally pick up girls on the douce douce?
Sure.
Here's my number.
Proceed to enter his number into my phone.
Greg, right?
if I can't remember my own name, I can't expect that I remembered yours right.
Yeah.
What's your last name?
What? you stalker! why do you need his last name? because you have sooo many Gregs in your phone?
Golding.
What did he say?
Can you spell it?
G-O-L-D-I-N-G
oh my goodness, maybe he likes special needs girls like me.
proceed to give him my number, without last name.
Have nearly missed my stop.
Okay. This is my stop. I have to go.
Okay. see ya.
He'll probably call and ask for Kaili.
Just another Monday morning. Love you all dearly. Thanks reading such a long post.
