[Hipster scouting: The Mr and Miss Williamsburg Pageant]
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.
It was my second day in Williamsburg when I went to that magical screening of A Wet Hot American Summer, and couldn’t believe my eyes! I had never in my life seen so many hipsters in one location before, and was so mystified that I decided then and there to devote my spare time to studying them in their natural habitat of Williamsburg.
But now, in the ultimate twist of irony, the hipsters are studying me! They have already sized up my style and judged me as I awkwardly answered a series of interview questions. But IIII am the one who is supposed to be doing the judging here. Irony such as this it typically too much for hipsters to tolerate But at this caliber, even I am having trouble stomaching it.
Ugh! Why did I sign up for this? This judgment is one-hundred fold that which one encounters while walking down Bedford Avenue. And, the very fact that this is, indeed, a “pageant,” it’s stirring up memories that I’ve worked so hard up until this point to repress…
Should I disclose this information to this gang of blood thirsty hipsters?
I was 7 years old and for some reason – probably the barrels of Seventeen Magazines I was consuming at the time – I wanted to enter a local beauty pageant. I had never been in a pageant before and my mom, out of sadism or some desire to exclude me from the pageant world, let me pick out my own outfit,
WHICH WAS, a red coulotted number that had a large black collar covered with neon polka dots!
The hipsters are now eying me with jealousy that I owned such an item, or perhaps it is skepticism.
Perhaps they do not believe that my story is real.
Oh yes. It was real. The only reason why I’m smiling in that picture though is because my mother strategically took it before the competition using the trophy as a prop.
I had one opponent in my age bracket, who was far more skilled in pageantry than myself – or had one of those overbearing, obsessed pageant mothers. My competition came onto the scene with the whole pageant getup. She had the poofy debutante gown, the high heels, the fancy updo, and of course, the Jean Benet Ramsey- style tramp makeup.
During the interview portion, I spent five full minutes telling the judges about my pet parakeet and firebelly newt, while my opponent talked to them about her extra credit work in school and, GOD.
I lost, of course. And perhaps it was that devastating blow to my confidence that pushed me towards my hipster fence-sitting ways.
Since that fateful day, I haven’t thought about entering another pageant, and I don’t know how I got finagled into being in this sideshow. But now I am the one with the poofy debutante gown and…(sniffle) all I can think about is how much I wish I had that red coulotte dress! If I had sported that in the street wear segment, this pageant would have been over. I think the hipsters in the audience would have tried to rip it from my very body so they could wear it out on Bedford Avenue. The judges would have had no choice but to crown me Miss Williamsburg!
But actually, I don’t care if I win. Only a hipster would actually want to win this, and – pft- I am not a hipster.
Whew. Done. Time to go drink all memories of this pageantry right back where they belong: in my subconscious. Ok, edit edit, any typos? Ha, of course not. I believe this post is ready to be published.
Monlogue performed live on stage at the Mr and Miss Williamsburg Pageant by Lola Wakefield.
Audio recording and editing by Maty Serwer, my roommate who stayed up all night making this with me and subsequently went to his grandmother’s funeral drunk.