Tuesday, March 3, 2009
And better than ever.
To preface this, I should remind you all of one thing that you may not have known, but definitely should:
OK. So, Lola just drank a bottle of pinot [on a work night! *gasp*], and so she is feeling a bit saucy and self-assured. But I assure you, my dear hipster readers. It is with good reason.
You see, I recently got an invitation to blog with my very favorite blog in the world. In fact, it is the blog who’s link love in the first week of this whole blogging endeavor made me stop and think, “Whaaa… people actually read this??”
So yes, I am now going to be posting over at your one stop shop for the most hipsterlicious shit on the web:
And there you have it! A blogging career based on observing hipsters in their natural habitat and slowly becoming indoctrinated by the tribe, all the whilst fighting corporate corruption and giving into it at the same time, maintaining my hipster image to blend in while doing what I can to resist full conversion—it’s all led me here.
So check me out.
Here’s my first post, which is the video that makes me happy every single time I watch it, which is pretty much daily… sometimes multiple times a day if it’s “one of those days.”
Thursday, November 27, 2008
If you are a blogger, you know the addictive fun that the administrative view of a site can bring. So, in light of the fact that I haven’t posted for over a month and my stats are still holding strong, I decided to post this list of amazing search terms I have been collecting since the inception of this blog just for you, devoted hipster readers.
For those unfamiliar with the art of blogging, these are the terms people have typed into Google or other search engines that landed them at my blog, accidentally or on-purpose…
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Things are starting to get weird. I’ve been waking up at 8:30 to be at work at 10 am every week day — an oddity since my natural waking time is between the hours of 2 and 4 pm — working all day every Saturday and Sunday nights. Well, OK. I usually wake up at 9:30 and get to my day job at 10:30, but nobody cares… hopefully. AND, I can wear whatever the hell I want (read: NOT corporate attire).
This workforce regularity seems to suggest I am falling away from hipsterdom. If one were to examine this piece of evidence alone, it would be reasonable to predict that, within the month, I will be going to the opera and learning to cook. However, an expert researcher and blogumentary maker such as myself always looks at the larger picture, which is best illustrated by this g-talk conversation between my good friend Howard Duesterberg and myself..
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Greetings hipster readers!
By now, many of you may have been wondering where I am. You don’t have to write furious comments demanding my immediate blogging — I know how much I am missed.
Anyway, I have a pretty good excuse for slacking on the posting that doesn’t involve me falling into a vicious cycle of feeling increased pressure to be productive, getting anxious, letting my ADD drive me into a state of torpid procrastination thereby enhancing the pressure and worsening the cycle. Yes, it’s a much better explanation than that.
I got a job!
Not just any job, either: Pretty much my dream job. I’m working for the online section of my favorite publication managing a syndication of blogs that is the largest of its nature in the world. The company is relatively new and innovative and has the potential to drive social change in the most important of ways, so I am really happy to be there.
I know what you are thinking: “What could be more important than blogumenting about hipsters?!?!” Shh, I know. I agree with you that what I do here is important, and writing this blog makes me happy for the most part. That is why I will continue to post! It may not be as frequent as it used to be, but I should still have some free time… hopefully. You may have thought I was going to crap out. I even considered it, to keep from getting overwhelmed, but, nah. Quitting is for smokers — who are ready. And I am just not ready to quit. Shut up, mom.
So, bare with me and continue to enjoy my hipsterlicious prose!
Friday, September 26, 2008
By now, most Americans have at least some inkling that the United States is in the midst of a grave economic crisis. But after scouring Bedford Avenue and interviewing various individuals who seemed to be outwardly “hip,” I have come to the conclusion that hipsters do not have the slightest clue about anything relating to the economy, possibly less so than the average American (see graph).
In order to help hipsters understand what is going on with major Wall Street financial institutions and the American economy, I have devised a simple analogy to outline the situation in terms hipsters can understand.
Let us pretend that the major players involved in the crisis are the members of the traditional hipster family, in which we have:
- Daddy Warbucks, the successful businessman with several overseas bank accounts (the American Government)
- The two beloved children, we’ll call them Fannie and Freddy (The Federal National Mortgage Association and the Federal Home Loan Mortgage Corporation)
- The second wife (the American economy)
- The coke-head hipster stepchild (recipients of the $700 billion bailout plan)
- The hipster’s drug dealer (foreign investors)
Monday, September 22, 2008
Such as it is the common child’s goal to become an “astronaut” or “teacher” when they grow up, it is every hipster’s dream to work at the American Apparel factory. In this fantasy, they have access to all the hand-crafted onsies and leggings they could ever want and have regularly scheduled orgies after lunch, which consists of empanadas and Colt-45. But they may want to go back to the drawing board as there is one aspect of the job they have likely overlooked — namely that all AA factory workers risk losing fingers and other extremities to the sewing machine after being startled by CEO Dov Charney rampaging through the factory in a new underwear product and Hooters tank top.
Also, judging from that one guy’s medical-grade mask, the workers risk contracting SARS as well. And to throw one more bowling ball upon your shattered hipster dream, from this video it is apparent that 97.5 percent of the workers in the American Apparel factory are neither American nor do they wear any sort of stylish apparel (although one could easily smuggle out dozens of onsies and leggings at a time under those jumpers). It’s a good thing hipsters routinely get 12 hours of alcohol-induced sleep per night; they’ve got some dreaming to do.
Video referred by Howard Duesterberg for Stuff Hipsters Don’t Like ©2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
There is nothing more humiliating to a hipster than when her thrift-store bought maternity dress stops being ironic.
Tonight, a hipster will be impregnated. Maybe she’ll buckle to the baristo at the local coffee shop, seduced by his beard and self-aware Exxon-Mobil trucker hat. Perhaps it will be that V-necked charmer at the dive bar who claims to be Ariel Pink’s tour manager. Or maybe it will just be that guy whose filthy apartment she’s been sleeping at for the last month so she doesn’t have to pay rent.
Hipsters are very torn about pregnancy. On the one hand, they don’t have any problem with abortion seeing as they got their BA in post-structuralist conceptual astrology and have endured hundreds of hours of NPR, Ira Glass’ infanticidal socialist drone lingering in their subconscious. On the other hand, being pregnant is kind of cool. It gives them some sort of purpose in an otherwise directionless post-graduate existence. In fact, some hipster girls dream of having a traditional nuclear family. They fantasize about their husband handsomely dressed in wool flannel and Ray-Bans returning home from his long shift at the record store and coddling their infant son decked out in a vintage neon Morrissey romper.
That said, most of the time they just get an abortion.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
It is my great pleasure to introduce a new literary contributor to SHDL, Howard Duesterberg.
Howard hails from Silverlake, Los Angeles, an area known for its dive bars, palm trees, shady motels and rampant population of Cal arts graduates. He was an early inspiration for this site, and rose to prominence after having his picture posted on The Cobrasnake.
Keep an eye out for Howard’s posts, which will surely be ripe with perceptive hipster commentary!
Picture of Howard by The Cobrasnake.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Although I do not identify with being a full-blown hipster, I openly admit that I have some hipster traits (call me a hipster chimera if you will). One trait that I currently share with the non-trustfunded hipster (which is a much more elusive breed than its well-off counterpart) is the state of being really effing broke (moneyless!). This, coupled with my inability refusal to enter into the corporate jungle or serve others prepared food with a smile on my face (even though I am not happy to be there) presents quite a predicament.
So, with less than two weeks remaining before my sublease squatting arrangement is up, I have been grudgingly doing something that many-a-hipster has been forced to do over the past few years due to the powerful financial forces of yuppienization pushing the hip out of Williamsburg: I have been looking for an apartment in Bushwick.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I was going to continue blogging not acknowledging the drama that occurred at the Mr and Miss Williamsburg Pageant. But apparently, some of you feel the event requires further discussion.
I included the event in this blogumentary because I had a perspective that no other writer did. I mean, I couldn’t not blog about the glory, the treachery, the deceit that comes along with hipster pageantry. Some people were exposed, hurt; lives were ruined. To which I say, with the utmost seriousness: How ironic.
And yes, I participated in the event to recruit new readers, which were introduced to all the hipster scouting goodness thanks to FREEwilliamsburg, Gothamist, The NY Press, Gawker, and even The New York Times. Why these people care about a hipster pageant is beyond me. But hey, it’s better than reading about Paris Hilton I guess.
So now that I have all of your attention…
Hipsters fucking HATE John McCain. And well, everyone hates Sarah Palin. Don’t even get me started.
That’s all! Check back soon for more hipsterlicious updates on the new version of the site, which will hopefully be up soon.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The human eye is one of the most intriguing components of human physiology. Scientists have studied the organ for centuries, using its points of divergence from our animal relatives to map evolution on phylogenetic trees and debunk Creationist lines of thought evidenceless fantasy myths.
But even more interesting to researchers than the human eye is the hipster eye, which differs from the normal human eye in a variety of ways, some of which are light sensitivity, magnification and overall perception. In fact, sociologists and behavioral psychologists everywhere are rejoicing in light of new evidence suggesting that the hipster eye is, indeed, a mutant phenotype; for this is the evidence they have been searching for far and wide to explanation certain anomalous hipster behaviors. [Note: Those afflicted with this condition are said to have Hipster Eye Deficiency Syndrome (HEDS).]
One such behavior that has baffled researchers for years is the tendency of hipsters to avoid daylight at all costs. While this is typically attributed to hangover symptoms, HEDS explains data that previously did not make sense. In past research, when comparing the capacity of people to make it to work on time the day following a night of binge drinking, there was a large discrepancy between the population of Williamsburg and the population of Manhattan.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Click here for the link to download the audio track!
I am live-blogging on-stage at this pageant where the hipsters are in full-force!! They are intently watching me as I type into my blogging machine, though they appear to be baffled by its high-tech interface. I think, looking at this crowd… this is what Union Pool must be like. I have never been there before but if it’s anything like this I will have unlimited blog fodder for life! In fact, there are so many of them here that it reminds me of my first time at McCarren Park.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I’m pretty sure I have alluded to this in the past in my interview with Misha Calvert and in the previous entry, but the time has come to definitively announce that I, Lola Wakefield, will be a contestant in this Friday’s Mr and Miss Williamsburg pageant. This announcement may or may not have been expedited by the fact that the NY Post is outing my contestantness in today’s edition, but of course I wanted you, my dedicated readers, to hear it here from me first!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The other day I did something that I will admit is one of my closet hipster likes — I went shopping at Beacon’s Closet (pretty much the hipster equivalent of Macy’s or Bloomingdale’s). OK, so it’s not very closeted after my last post, and it’s not just a like: it’s a borderline obsession.
It was during this 4 hour session of mindless self-indulgence that I realized something profound.
There is a saying that some people (usually over-the-hill relatives) like to use, most likely when attempting to relate to/console troubled teens: “We all put our pants on the same way — one leg at a time.” (“Sonny.”)
I was trying to find the perfect attire to wear to an event I will be attending on Friday (more to come on that later) and I went so far as to try on the red flag of hipsterdom: skinny jeans. Believe it or not, it was my first time attempting such a feat. I tried on maybe 10 pairs, wrenching and wrestling with them as their seams squeezed the life out of my ankles! I thought I had found a semi-acceptable pair, a black and white-vertically striped garment that made my ass look incredible, but fortunately I could not button the button for fear of my GI-tract. If I could have I probably would have been forced to buy them and then it would all be over.
It was then I realized: Hipsters do not put their pants on in any way remotely similar to other human beings. Hipster pants-wearing requires types of stretching, twisting, muscular lifting and jumping that average people only do when training for certain Olympic sporting events.
It was also during this shopping venture that I learned those calculator watches actually DO have a purpose and are not just worn to achieve the “nerdy chic” look: They are for hipsters to calcualte their totals at Beacon’s Closet! I spotted one poking furiously at one as he exited the dressing area! Who knew?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Hipsters have inadvertently devised a method to stop the ravaging of resources from the planet, reduce fossil fuel emissions and conserve energy. But unfortunately for their credibility among hippie environmentalists, they typically have no idea they are being green! (Although it is possible that Al Gore and all the “green becoming stylish” ad campaigns have finally beat their way in to those advertising-averted skulls.)
Monday, September 1, 2008
Typically when people engage in summer activities, they dress in a certain way that minimizes heat close to the body and allows for perspiration to occur. Wearing minimal clothing also allows the sun to have contact with the skin, causing a cascade of enzymatic reactions that doctors believe to cause beneficial effects on mood and skin-tone. Some common items of summer clothing include shorts — or the hipster variation, jorts — tank tops, and loose-fitting t-shirts. This is especially the case when the potential for swimming exists, as people do not typically enter water wearing tight, restrictive clothing. This of course excludes divers, who wear wetsuits. It is also customary to wear light colors during times of extended sun exposure, as dark colors absorb the suns rays and increase heat.
I myself was wearing a red bikini at Rockaway beach earlier this week, allowing for maximal heat deflection and sun exposure. As I was laying in the sand enjoying the scenery, I spotted something out of the ordinary: a dark figure approaching on the horizon…
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Dear hipster lovers/haters/in-betweeners,
Over the next week, this site (that you love so much) is going under the knife! WordPress, the blogging platform that I’ve been using to deliver you cunning hipster commentary: so passé. I am tots over it. Massive reconstructive surgery will make it easier for me to work and for you to enjoy the site all-around. Posts might be sparse for the next few days while I work on this but once it’s all converted I will be more inclined than ever to bring you the latest from the Hipster Embassy AKA Bburg.
(But not too cool because that would be super un-cool)
Also, while drinking hard cider with my web designer yesterday and watching a crazed hydraulic excavator come inches from smashing passing cars (lol!), we made up this joke:
Q: How long does it take a hipster to get to McCarren Park?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Every weeknight, clumps of hipsters set off to journey through the streets of Williamsburg. They have two goals and two goals only: find a dance party and get laid. To the untrained observer, such as a tagalong roommate who wants to know where the distant hipster is going all dressed up in the American Apparel dress she can only wear once seven times as an actual dress because it will shrink to 65% of its original size after the first wash, it would naturally follow that the reason for wanting to be in a locaiton where dancing occurs is to participate, as most humans find dancing to be an exhilarating and sometimes cathartic experience that often leads to a release of endorphins and occasionally sexual intercourse (hella endorphins!).
Monday, August 25, 2008
I don’t know if this blogging venture is getting to me or what, but this weekend, I had the most hipster moment of my entire existence.
The afternoon sun deceptively boasted an atmosphere suitable for lounging around, but my best friend had to catch a plane to France and time was of the essence. It was noon when I left for The Lodge, and I knew I would have to hurry and chug those buy-one-get-one bloody Marys so she could leave for the airport by 1:30.
The hipster moment started when we realized it was 1:45 and did not yet have the check.
“Oh shit, I have to go. I haven’t even packed yet. We have to hurry!” my friend recognized. (Note: As you may know, hurrying is not something that hipsters are capable of.)
Sunday, August 24, 2008
It was my best friend’s going away party. She was leaving for France the following morning and her roommate threw her a bash so that hopefully she would still be drunk when she got on the plane. Over the course of the night, I sought the biggest hipsters I could spot and struck up conversations, discretely studying my subjects in the wild. I anticipated encountering some awkward pauses and music elitism galore, but I never expected I would end up shooing coke-head hipster secret society members out of my friend’s bathroom.
There were four of them; three were clad in identical skin-tight black jeans and an assortment of black and white shirts and black leather jackets, and the other one (I can only assume he was the leader) was sporting a plaid button-down. When I commented on one of the jackets, the SS hipster disclosed that he got it at Beacon’s Closet for $20! During introductions, SS Hipster #1 did not hesitate to inform me of his self-importance.
“Yeah, I’m in a secret society,” he said nonchalantly, tossing his bangs.
“That’s cool,” I said. “What’s the point of it?”
“Yeah…” he started, a faraway look in his eyes, “I can’t really talk about it. You know. It’s a secret society.”
“Oh yeah, whatever. It’s fine,” I replied. “I’ll probably be tapped soon anyway.”
Later on that night they invited me to join! “Ah, sorry, I’m already in two others.”
When the party started to wind down, my friend’s roommate left for the bar with his posse, leaving just a few us to proceed with drunken goodbyes. But then all of a sudden, the hipster secret society members were back and snorting coke in my friend’s room!
I don’t know what it is about secret society hipsters that makes them think it’s OK to be the last people at a party where they don’t know anyone where even the host is trying to leave, while they wait for their friend to “use the bathroom” for 15 minutes (I fear for her nasal cavity!) but like, that’s gotta be a party foul on some level. It’s cool though because I had the opportunity to take this photo and blow their cover! In the absence of my photographer, I had to revert to my tried and true hipster-photography method of inserting a plant into the pic.
Photo by Lola Wakefield for Stuff Hipsters Don’t Like ©2008
Expert Photoshopping by Laine Stranahan for Stuff Hipsters Don’t Like ©2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
So far in the Olympics, the American team is achieving victory over China on the overall ranks, taking 31 gold medals, 36 silvers and 35 bronze! Michael Phelps won eight gold medals! For the average American, delivery of this news would be met with emotions ranging from slight satisfaction to raging excitement, possibly prompting a high five or even a leaping chest bump.
But for the average hipster, common physiological responses upon processing this type of information are a steady elevation of one side of the upper lip and a narrowing of the eyes. This is not only because hipsters are disinterested by sports-related information and consider it a waste of mental space similar to the way that some politically-minded Americans feel after hearing celebrity gossip or watching reality television; hipsters shun all sports related things because they actually have an instinctual aversion. In fact, according to ground-breaking research, hipsters experience a knee-jerk reaction of loathing when the prospect of participating in sporting activities, viewing sports on television, or even wearing sports paraphernalia emerges. (Note: The only time hipsters will take on an interest in sports is when it has some kind of ironic quality. For example, hipsters from northwestern Ohio will wear “Cleveland Browns” sports garb and even occasionally attend an event only because the team is known for perpetually losing and also has several bars dedicated it.)
Friday, August 22, 2008
The solution to this catch-22 is almost impossible for the hipster mind to conjure
Hipsteress sales clerk to friend: I’m kind of depressed. I’ve just been wasting my time with people who suck and now I have all this work bullshit. So, I’m just gonna throw myself into that until I get everything figured out.
-Amacord clothing store
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
I e-met this hipSTAR after our pet projects were featured 2 posts away from each other on FREEwilliamsburg.com, which I’m sure you all check daily, if not by having the page perpetually open and refreshing the screen every few minutes or so. After robbing a bodega and creating the Mr and Miss Williamsburg Pageant as retribution, Misha became an infamous icon in the hipster realm, attracting a stream of comments with such sentiments as “I hope your eggs fall out Misha,” “i hope you fall onto the L train tracks” and “lousy fucking bitch-cunt,” among others. But shrugging these comments off with skilled nonchalance, her pageant will prevail – and be attended by Gawker.
Mischa reached out to me through email and suggested that I participate in her pageant. I wrote her back, commended her for robbing the bodega (which started this whole escapade), and graciously agreed to participate. After that, we emailed each other back and forth so much that we automatically popped up on each others’ g-talk lists, and so the conversations began.
One day, Misha said, “I’d love to do an interview.” My narcissistic inclinations shining through, I asked when she wanted to interview me. Her narcissistic inclinations trumping mine tenfold, she explained that she was asking me to interview her.
In the midst of awkward confusion, Misha suggested that we “shake up the medium” and interview each other, and so this interview was born. Hopefully, it will satiate everyone’s narcissistic inclinations:
Lola: So Misha, judging from some of the comments on websites that featured your pageant, it appears that hipsters don’t like you. Do you generally find this to be true?
Misha: First of all, thank you for recognizing that I am not a hipster. Although by many accounts, that very denial would make me one.
Lola: This is correct
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Like a good “citizen journalist,” I’ve been keeping tabs on the aftermath of Saturday’s riot hipster pseudo-mob party thing.
Turns out, five people ended up being arrested for things like “resisting arrest” and “inciting a riot.” That’s interesting that when other people pull someone the other direction as he is being grabbed by a cop, it is the person being grabbed’s resistance! I think the NYPD should invest in some lessons in physics to provide cops along with their first-class police training. It is also amusing that playing good music and sprinkling water droplets are not only illegal, but considered things that are capable of inciting riots. I will be extremely careful now to only play Cold Play and Fall Out Boy at work, otherwise the customers may start chanting and smashing computers!
One of them looks like it is of a cop trying to attack a camera while it was video taping him. I would like to request that all members of the NYPD immediately join the facebook group, “I AM DEAD TO THE 21st CENTURY WORKFORCE; and I smash machines.” Better not let them use your computer to do it though.
The vids are from the same people who brought you that footage of that guy getting punched off his bike by a cop. (lmao! Sorry, I’ll bet that hurt a lot and it’s pretty fucked up that that happened, but omfg it’s fun to watch.)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
As I was closing up shop after a long day’s work sitting around on Bedford Ave at 10pm tonight, I was shocked to see something that I never thought I would ever see: Hipsters assembling! On their own accord – they weren’t even tricked by advertising gimmicks or indie bands!
At first I wasn’t quite sure what was going on. There were hundreds of hipsters in the street walking alongside cop cars with flashing lights. My initial thought was that it was a parade, and the helicopter flying overhead was lighting the way as a good Samaritan effort. Like the fun parades where the cop cars and firetrucks sound their sirens real loud right before the old men in Kiwanis come out driving little cars and beauty pageant queens and the Mayor ride by in convertibles.
Well, if it was one of those parades I would have peaced out. But naturally, because I saw an abundance of hipsters, I followed the commotion right to the center.
After traveling all the way from Union Square, the hipsters had come to a halt at Bedford Avenue. Led by “Panda-monium,” the group who -get this- routinely assembles at “The Change You Want to See” building on Havemeyer, protestors (and hipsters who like costumes, woo!) attempted to relcaim the streets for the purposes of the people who live and play there as opposed to profit-seeking companies encouraging consumption. Dozens of Williamsburgers decked out in Panda masks (one even had a fluffy white belly) were leading protest chants about Pandas and, later on, police brutality.
Aside from the pandas though, there were at least 200 other people assembled around Bedford and N. 6th. I’m not really sure what made them stop there: Was that their destination or did they just get distracted by all the bars and hipster activities? I’ve heard some rumors of a police blockade, but I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure the panda-hipster group decided that if there was going to be a showdown, the Bedford stretch, AKA the Hipster Embassy, was where it must be.
At first there were only a few cops actually standing in the street. They were telling people to get out of the street with the ol’ “we really want to stop you from assembling but can’t legitimately make you until back-up arrives, so for now just stop blocking traffic – also, I’m really a nice guy!” trick. One hipster was really fucking with him, to my amusement, first standing in front of cars trying to pass and then standing directly next to the officer pretending to join in chastising the other hipsters for dancing in the streets. He was pretty tolerant though… or outnumbered and waiting. Either/or.
Then back up arrived and they were really trying to make people get out of the street. Apparently, they didn’t get the Pandamonium flier! Otherwise they would have known that that was the whole point…
Surprisingly, people did get out of the street for the most part. I would have thought the hipsters would have been lunging at the cops in herds trying to get arrested to boost their street cred. But except for a few people trying to cross the street for various reasons (one of those reasons may be just ‘because,’ but whatever), the streets became relatively clear and everyone pooled on the sidewalks. But I guess the cops felt like it would be really lame or something to just stand around in the street and not make a show of anything when they were all dressed up and ready to go. (Note: Cops value street cred wayyy more than hipsters.) Clearly, the youth of Williamsburg was a dangerous force with their panda costumes, excessive standing on the sidewalk and chants that couldn’t even last for more than 5 rounds.
The last straw for the police was when a really good song came on a boom box that this guy was holding on his shoulder a few feet away from me. The cops must have known that something sinister was taking place because there were at least 10 people dancing to the music. Given that hipsters shun all forms of dancing in public, this must have signified that they were about to form some kind of revolt.
Then a cop grabbed the guy with the boom box by the back of his arm and yanked him into the street, pushing him to the ground and making him loose grip of the stereo. Now, I know that dancing is illegal and also a sin, but I think there was excessive force used in this situation. The stereo fell, batteries flying everywhere, and when a few of his friends picked it up, a woman cop angrily lunged for the boom box and tried to further dismantle it!
Seriously, when she did that, all I could think about was that scene in Disturbing Behavior when the creepy yet heroic janitor turns on the stereos and all the robot people freak out and attack them. I guess if music-playing devices to cops are pretty much the equivalent of WMDs, I can see why she tried to attack the boom box. She was unsuccessful though, as the dancing criminal’s friends battled it out of her grip.
I was also standing next to a girl who got tackled and possibly tased for sprinkling water on her friends. She didn’t get it on the cops at all, so I don’t understand what about this behavior provoked them to the point that one of them literally ran from the street to where she was standing up against a storefront, grabbed her by the collar and threw her into the street and pounced on her along with several other burly police officers. I mean, you could tell the people around her on the sidewalk were kind of like “Spraying water is more of a hot concert thing than a riot thing but whatever?” The only thing that cop might be able to plausibly say to justify arresting that girl is that he thought the water was actually lighter fluid and she was attempting to burn down the Pizza Place behind her Do the Right Thing-style. “It’s your turn now, mothafucka!”
One potentially good thing about the people getting arrested and brutalized for absurdity though is that approximately 45 people captured everything on video. The currently sad thing about that is that there is only one YouTube video posted of it as of now.
So what have the hipsters learned tonight?
A) Hipsters will assemble if a raucous street costume party is involved, regardless of if they understand that the motivation behind the assemblage is attacking their habits of consumption.
B) Police officers have ocular implants that compel them to crush musical machines.
and C) Hipsters will (probably) use their tendencies to excessively capture life in digital form instead of experiencing it directly to contribute to the public sphere of information… in a few days, or weeks. Maybe… if they feel like it.
Video by Frooze.
PS: Girl who got arrested, I have your Yankees hat if you want it! A police officer found it on the ground and threw it towards me after they dragged you away. I picked it up, put it on backwards, and gave him the finger.
Friday, August 15, 2008
I’ve noticed that some readers have responded to my [Hipster scouting: Craigslist New York] post – a tale of one banker’s plea for romance and seduction from a lone hipsteress – by commenting that a similar scenario had happened on something called “Mad Men.” I wasn’t really sure what it was referring to, but I thought I remembered seeing that title to describe an AMC show in a Sunday Times article. So when the people I was conversing with at a bar off Bedford Avenue tonight (I’m not going to comment on if it was a hipster bar or not but they definitely played The Cure 95% of the time there) mentioned Mad Men, I thought I would demonstrate my knowledge of pop culture and impress them by asking if they were talking about the show about the advertising execs in the ’60s.
As soon as I said it, they exchanged a knowing glance.
“Um no… It’s a band. You know, the Mad Men?”
Speaking of bands, I went to go see my manager’s band play in the basement of a bar on Bedford Avenue where they give you free pizza with your beer. My favorite song that they played was called, “I love you, but you’re fucking worthless.” Now, I’m not quite sure if he’s a hipster or not, and in any case I don’t want to be fired in case he reads this, but I thought I would put that amazing title into Google to see if I could find the lyrics and know for sure.
What I found was a website about “vampire freaks” that I’m pretty sure injected a virus into my computer, and THE MOST AMAZING HIPSTER SHORT STORY EVER.
I’m not even kidding about the caliber of this tale. Apparently, someone was inspired to write a 2,155 word “fiction” story about a verbal altercation between he and his significant other. The tale begins with the female chastising the hipster, Arkady, for being dependent:
“You can’t even get a drink of water for yourself… You’re fucking pathetic!” said Nadia from the kitchen.
“That statement is false,” said me calmly from the couch.
“It’s not nonsense, you can’t even get your self a glass of water. I have to get it for you. You can’t do anything for yourself. Without me, you would die for sure. All you are, is a fucking brat.”
Nadia has come into the living room. She is standing in front of the couch yelling sentences at me.
After that promising start, the story evolves into a tale of Nadia’s disappointment for Arkady’s habits of doing nothing but going to strip joints and Denny’s in northeast Ohio, to which Arkady narrates a series of nonchalant responses and complains that Nadia doesn’t put out. A series of insults are exchanged, ranging from the most inventive burns I have ever heard to the weakest, and Arkady reveals he has been cheating on Nadia with a stripper named Liz.
With all of the hipster angst released in this fictional argument, one would assume that the fight would result in gruesome murder, or at least them doing it – but no. See for youself. I guarantee you, it’s even better, as those endings are so passé.
For people too lazy to click the link, I’ll paste the conclusion below the jump, because I want you to experience the hipster goodness of this story like I did. I never imagined looking up punk band lyrics could lead me to discover such awesome hipster writing outlets. (That is, of course, the inevitable result from looking up punk band lyrics.)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
The other day, I did something awful for which I will surely be shunned throughout Williamsburg:
I got hired.
Oh, it gets worse. I didn’t just get hired at any old dive bar or bodega – I was hired by a corporation in the financial district where I would work 9-5 shifts. At such an institution, the term “disposable income” might cease to be an intangible concept like “the real world” and “success.” (Note: especially for hipsters, these things are eternally intangible.)
I don’t know what made me apply with that temp agency in the first place. Hipsters characteristically abhor employment and having self-generated income, preferring instead to spend their days complaining about their lack of adhesion to the larger world outside their college bubbles. To be a genuine hipster, I should have embraced my inner insecurity and continued spending business hours searching craigslist job postings at the local internet cafe and sleeping in my windowless room. By joining Corporate America, my hipster dilemma would cease to be a dilemma.
But as I would learn going to my job interview, the worst part about being employed by a corporation is that you automatically become excommunicated from hipster social circles. This happens for many reasons, the most prominent of which is that you are forced to do something that is intolerable in a hipster’s mind: You must wear “corporate attire.”
It was on this day I realized that while hipsters will enthusiastically faux-grudgingly wear any combination of seemingly ridiculous or unfunctional clothing and walk down Bedford Avenue with pride (or at least with a “I know I’m hot but if you look at me again I will fucking kill you” ambiance), the one thing a hipster will not wear is a suit. They are also hesitant about anything that falls under the “corporate attire” category.
For example, here is a website that attempts to market corporate attire to hipster females:
As you can see, this company is trying to market it’s clothing to both the hipster and the corporate whore, but I anticipate their plan will fail due to the prominance of the “how to” section on their site. Hipsters would never buy anything from someone who is telling them how to do something, especially if that something is dressing like a yupster.
Walking down Havemeyer at 8:00 am (AM!!! Note: This is a hipster’s deepest REM sleep time), the streets were empty save a few hipsters in suits. If you think that the disposition of a hipster is generally distraught, seeing the agony on the faces of the few hipsters whoring themselves out to Corporate America, onlookers would surely assume they were on their way to a concentration camp.
Beyond being physically uncomfortable in the loose-fitting slacks, non-v-necked button-up shirts and other items of customary corporate garb, hipsters feel the utmost sense of embarassment while walking the streets of Williamsburg in such blasphemous clothing. As researchers have learned through in-depth interviews with corporate hipsters, this feeling can only be compared to what hipsters felt when were forced to walk the halls of their middle schools wearing parentally-purchased items that weren’t at all what the “cool” kids were wearing. As this crippling stage of development is known as the root of all the common hipster’s problems (and is therefore considered the inspiration for their pilgrimige to Williamsburg), the irony that these feelings should be rekindled in their place of solace is too much for the hipster to bear. To compensate, the corporate hipster then spends approximately 85% of his gross income on cocaine and Jack Daniels.
At my interview I was instantly hired and asked to come in for a background test the next morning. I left feeling desolate at the thought I would have to endure the hipster walk of shame every week day. I couldn’t even fathom what the walk home from the JMZ would be like, what with the hipsters awake and in full force. I resigned myself to taking comfort in that I would soon be home and could change into an empire-waisted plaid dress and flip flops.
Good news: By a stroke of luck I slept through my background check! I was deeply humbled by that extreme close call and have since vowed to never work anywhere where “corporate attire” is required. Or anywhere that I have to wake up at 7:30 am every day. Or anywhere with the word “Corporation” in its title.
That same day, I was hired on Bedford Avenue! When I walked in on my first day, my manager (who wears tight jeans and has hella tattoos) was smoking a cigarette outside while the front desk was unattended. Hence, my first official training exercise was “how to smoke cigarettes and stand around.” I go into work at 4pm and the only requirement is that I “try to be nice to people.” I’m making a full $10 and hour less than I would be at the corporation, but I can do whatever the fuck I want (which consists of blogging and drinking coffee)!
Expect great posts to come.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Somewhere, deep in the world of the people whose job it is to publicize concerts, there was once a conversation about how to make hipsters actually smile.
Market Research Dude: We have a problem.
Publicity Chick: We promote Indie bands, we have lots of problems.
Market Research Dude: No. This is something we’re never encountered in all of music history. It’s the hipsters…
Publicity Chick: Haha, of course it is (pours glass of scotch, on the rocks).
Market Research Dude: We give them free performances from the bands they pretend to like, free stuff – towels, keychains, Starbucks™ double shot espresso energy drinks – and we allow them to continue thinking their clothing is fashionable. But no matter what we do, they just won’t smile! Now the bands don’t want to perform in Williamsburg anymore because they say it’s (makes air quotes) “too awkward.”
Publicity Chick: Hmm, yes you’re right, this is critical. We need to find something that will fill their hipster hearts with joy. Perhaps something that reminds them of childhood – you know, before the mockery and ridicule set in; something big and fun and as colorful as all their converse shoes combined…
Market Research Dude: I’ve got it – beach balls. Several over-sized beach balls. Then they can engage in a mass volleyball game while grooving to tunes (in low voice to Publicity Chick) and we all know how much kids these days love to multitask (nudges Publicity Chick with elbow). If that doesn’t put smiles on those pasty white faces nothing will!
Publicity Chick: Brilliant. And did you hear? volleyball is the new kickball.
Initially, the plan appeared to work. When a beach ball is first introduced into a crowd of hipsters, there is sometimes cheering and even an attempt at participation as restless fans lunge for the opportunity to touch the beach ball. This is especially true when the balls are presented to hipsters waiting in line (for example, before the MGMT show at McCarren Park Pool when the doors did not open for approximately 1.5 hours after the advertised time). But after approximately 2 minutes of beach ball circulation during a show, hipsters lose all interest in the beach balls, becoming potential targets for rogue balls, which are heavier than one might think.
So despite music promoters’ efforts to liven the spirits of the forlorn hipsters, the beach ball idea turned out to be nothing but a severe annoyance.
At one McCarren pool party, an angry hipster chick standing next to me even went so far as to catch a beach ball and deflate it, attracting boos from a few surrounding hipsters with higher beach ball tolerance levels. This is profound because for a hipster to risk being ridiculed by her peers, and to disregard it when it occurs, there must be an incredibly strong motivating force, which beach ball anxiety appears to produce.
One explanation for this anomalous behavior is that the hipster may have conducted a rudimentary cost-benefit analysis, placing the cost of being ridiculed for deflating a beach ball at a lower magnitude than the benefits gained from avoiding the embarrassment that would ensue should she be struck on the head by a rogue ball.
Also irritating to hipsters is that whenever one of them purposely hits a beach ball into the press area or photo pit at a show, the oblivious photogs and PR apprentices throw them right back. This is done with patronizing graciousness, as if to say “you couldn’t possibly be enjoying the show like I am from back there, so you will probably want to play with this inflatable plastic ball.”
Photo by Jamie Killien.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Smiling is considered a natural, often involuntary response to certain stimulating factors in the environment. But recently, scientists have observed a phenomenon in a small subset of American teenagers and post-graduate Liberal Arts majors residing in urban areas. It seems that when these anomalous individuals, whom researchers refer to as the “hipster cohort,” are presented with experimental stimulus considered “pleasant,” “joyus” and “delightful” by the control group (individuals of the same age group located in Grainfield, Kansas), this group will remain completely stoic, offering no facial indication that the stimulus is favorable in any way.
Explanations for this behavior are heavily debated. One possibility is that hipsters, having had all of their needs consistently met and exceeded by indulgent suburban parents, have nothing with which to contrast happiness. Therefore, the hipster’s baseline level of contentment is much higher than that of the average human being.
Hipsters do occasionally smile, but the act is almost always coupled with the act of swiping a major credit card through a reader when making a purchase, especially at faux-vintage clothing stores located in Brooklyn.
To some, especially self-righteous Canadian anarchists, this behavior is looked upon with extreme disdain. In the most recent issue of Adbusters magazine, Douglass Haddow cited this hipster phenomenon as evidence that hipsters are solely responsible for the decline of America Civilization (See article here).
“Less a subculture, the hipster is a consumer group – using their capital to purchase empty authenticity and rebellion,” Haddow writes.
But I don’t think the blame should fall completely on the hipster. Being part of the first generation to face the onslaught of advertisements through technologically advanced mediums, hipsters have simply done what has been asked of them by the capitalist machines past generations have failed to prevent and thus, have effectively created. The fleeting smile in response to capitalistic exchanges – and little else – is something to be expected. Moreover, the modern hipster has come to expect enjoyment from buying things like the people who typically criticize them expect fulfillment from sexual intercourse. (note: while the expectations built around sexual intercourse often exceed the actual pleasure received, the pleasure a hipster experiences from buying random crap is real and can consistently produce a euphoria that lasts hours. This act also requires smoking a cigarette immediately after exiting a location where a purchase was made.)
Additionally, researchers have concluded that the loss of facial motor function and inappropriate emotional response is merely the hipster’s way of adapting to a world in which real anguish is not commonly experienced. This is also why, the worst possible thing for a hipster to encounter is to find out that access to her constant stream of monetary parental support has been cut off until she gets a “real” job to actually earn money to feed her compulsions. This imposition, however, is too ironic for hipsters to handle for the following reason: The only way for hipsters to break out of the patterns that characterize them as such, is to join the very organizations that contributed to their awkward state in the first place: the advertising industries, the corporations, Hollywood – which are the only industries that are still functioning despite the decrepit state of the economy (besides the war profiteering industry).
Perhaps, the satisfaction a hipster gets from shopping at second-hand stores comes from the subconscious knowledge that in buying these products, they are failing to contribute to sweatshop labor and global warming, thereby chipping a minute amount of income away from Corporate America, the Dr. Frankenstein of the hipster cohort. (Note: sadly, these effects are canceled out when anyone shops at Urban Outfitters and American Apparel – 50 items must be purchased at the Salvation Army in order to karmically redeem one item purchased at Urban Outfitters.)
Photo by Christophe Legris for Stuff Hipsters Don’t Like ©2008.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Friday night at Barcade (it’s a bar, and an arcade – and a hipster nerd hot spot), a hipster bought a single cigarette from me for $3. There was no haggling, I wasn’t being obstinate; $3 was the initial offer, which I skeptically accepted.
This proves that hipsters will pay up to 6 times the retail value of an object in order to look cool. In fact, they prefer to overpay – the more money an object is purchased for over its actual worth, the more sentimental value the object acquires in the hipster’s heart. This theorem can also be applied to vintage clothing, records and cocaine. However, if an object’s actual value is so low it is practically zero while the cost is astronomical, the object could not be considered anything other than scraps of trash, crossing into the category of “modern art.” This is more of a yuppie interest.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
This video, brought to you by Annoying Hipster Douchebag, is exemplary of many things hipsters do not like.
A) Bands that market to hipsters
The social events in a hipster’s life will often revolve around going to shows and hearing shitty bands that nobody likes, especially the hipsters in attendance. The reasons for this are elusive and myriad but I suspect the prime motivation for this behavior is that by suffering through Just hope the pharmaceutical industry doesn’t catch on to this form of self-medication and start funding said bands by forcing them to promote their products. Good music as we know it will then become a thing of the past.
But although witnessing live music for the hipster can be an emotionally painful experience (this explains the lack of movement and/or smiling during performances), it is beneficial in the sense that after attending said shows, the hipster will automatically gain hipster street cred by having endured. This is similar to the phenomenons of getting tattoos of meaningless symbols and going to church.
You heard it straight from the hipster’s horse’s – bad joke – mouth (the only thing hipsters and horses have in common is the desire to graze in fields – and to be ridden, occasionally, by a wealthy owner.
Check back at a later date for more to come on this topic. …
Friday, August 1, 2008
McCarren Park Pool, the emptied-out, rotting cement basin that once served as an actual pool and now serves as hipster paradise, is going to be turned into an actual pool once again. With $50 million pledged by Mayor Bloomberg, the plan only has to pass one more stage of approval before McCarren Park Pool reverts back to its original state.
At first, the idea doesn’t seem too terrible. I mean, even hipsters like water on a hot summer day. But considering that the Tuesday night movie showings and the Sunday concert series sponsored by JellyNYC are about the only things that will motivate a hipster to assemble, stand in line for hours at a time in the scorching sun, and even dance shuffle around in pouring rain, the transformation of McCarren’s pool basin into an actual functional pool/ice skating rink will likely extinguish any chance Williamsburg’s hipsters may or may not have to become some kind of functional movement, forcing them to retreat back into their smoke-filled artist lofts.
The New York Times featured an article today discussing the plans.
That McCarren Pool will be filled with water again has pleased many longtime residents and activists. But at several recent concerts the prevailing opinion was: bummer.
The article quoted Phyllis Yampolsky, founder of the McCarren Park Conservancy, as ideologically describing McCarren Pool as some sort of community venue that should serve people other than white hipsters with trust funds.
“The basic need of that pool is as a pool and recreation center for all the peoples of North Brooklyn, which includes a lot of black people and a lot of Latino people,” Ms. Yampolsky said. “Its basic needs are not for the fashionistas of Williamsburg.”
What?! Blacks and Latinos at McCarren? Whatever happened to gentrification?
The article also cited one astute hipster girl who is in cahoots about the matter and plans to take action as soon as cool becomes cool again (note: this is the hipster equivalent of pigs flying):
“It was a good run,” said Emmy Tiderington, a 27-year-old Williamsburger with a tattoo snaking down her right shoulder. “Nothing lasts,” she added.
The New York Landmarks Preservation Commission (which has a title as ironic as hipsters strive unsuccessfully to be) is scheduled to meet to pass the final stage of approval later this month. While the Times article cited Stephanie of the Open Space Alliance for North Brooklyn as saying that the hipsters have been (surprise!) apathetic about the matter and haven’t shown up for any community board meetings to protest or anything. But who does she think they are? Dirty hippies? Even if a hipster cared enough to stand up for the McCarren pool summer concert series venue, could find out WHEN the meeting was (this website is a fucking enigma), he would likely be too hung over to make it there – let alone suffer through all the boring other topics. Also, hipsters eyes are offended by lack of neon in any given room, and I suspect there would be an abundance of beiges and grays at this meeting.
But the likely truth is, the decision is already made, though not formalized, and the people in charge never wanted the input of the hipsters. If they did, they would serve Bloody Marys at their meetings.
But one keen hipster has an idea: hope everyone else is as lazy as she is.
Elena Gilbert, 22, a Bard College student whose summer plans include five pool shows, looked up briefly from what appeared to be prolific texting to note the one hope for the future of the pool events: bureaucratic delays.“Hopefully it’ll be like the Mermaid Parade,” she said, “where they keep telling you it’s the last summer and it never is.”
I guess this is one big fail for the hipsters. Good luck to JellyNYC for trying to get them all to see concerts in Bushwick. I’ll bet that one will go over as well as any new feature on the Facebook.
I recently came across this website containing a petition circulated – err, stationed – by JellyNYC urging the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation to open an alternate concert venue in Bushwick. Judging from the turn-out so far, it looks like the hipsters will have no choice but to revert back to their isolated iPod bubbles come next summer.
JellyNYC, you’ve got quite a task ahead of you. Do you realize that trying to get hipsters to sign a petition is like trying to get neocons to be factual?
Pool image by Gowanus Lounge. Not an actual rendering of the projected plans, just a photoshopped creation. Commentary my own.
Ice sk8ing image is an actual rendering of projected plans. I don’t know why they render lame people in there but I guess that’s their prerogative. Commentary my own.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Hipsters love to have their picture taken. Every snapshot is one more chance to achieve the perfect myspace profile picture. But they hate being captured as the rest of the world sees them, spontaneous and digitally unaltered. If you approach a hipster and ask to take his picture, he will either:
A) Oblige, but spend five entire minutes attempting to portray “distant indifference” while shaking his bangs so they fall in the perfect asymmetrical pattern. Then, unless he is in a hurry (note: hipsters don’t actually hurry; they only occasionally quicken pace to give the appearance that they have something more important to do than talk to you), he will inevitably force you to show him the image after and retake it if it does not meet his standards. If it excels his standards, he will insist that you email it to him, further lengthening the encounter.
or B) Contemplate why you want to take his picture, become extremely self-conscious, angstily refuse, and proceed to question his identity, become depressed.
This becomes problematic when attempting to capture true hipster essence. In order to avoid the bad karma of inducing a midlife crisis on your subject (note: while the life expectancy of the average American as calculated by the Centers for Disease control is 77.8 years, the life expectancy of the average hipster according to my own precise calculations is 28 years, so it would really be more like an over-the-hill crisis) or wasting time, I devised an unobtrusive and surefire method to capture hipsters on camera in all their unsuspecting glory.
My lovely assistant will demonstrate:
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Hipsters have a particular disdain for their peers. They are ruthless when it comes to criticizing the outfits/haircuts/body modifications of the other people around them, and often hold impromptu competitions to see who can spot the biggest hipster in the room. Winner would take all, if he cared – which he doesn’t. You know you have encountered a true hipster his first utterance when entering a venue is “Jesus, this place is crawling with hipsters.”
The hipster will not make any attempt to whisper or conceal his disdain for one reason and one reason only: the hipster does not believe that he is a hipster. Just as Clayton Bigsby, the blind white supremacist played by Dave Chapelle, goes about his life unaware that he is actually black, hipsters attend free showings of movies like A Wet Hot American Summer and The Virgin Suicides at McCarren Park Pool blissfully unaware that they are not really as ironic as they think they are. (Note: any attempt to inform a hipster that he actually is a hipster should be considered futile; be prepared for an incredulous stink eye followed by immediate nonchalance.)
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
This is a scientific approach to highlight and explain stuff hipsters don’t like. They are pretty predictable.