It was a dark and stormy day when my roommate, our po-mo hipster real estate agent friend and I went to view a fine piece of Bushwick property: a two-bedroom railroad apartment with a nice view of some dumpsters and the JMZ. I was hungover and moody after pulling a blogging all-nighter and being woken prematurely at 1pm; we had no umbrellas to shield against the rain that freely assaulted us from above.
We approached what we thought was the right address, opened the gate and made our way across what would be a front yard if Bushwick had any kind of suburban charm or was capable of sustaining minimal plant growth. Lacking these things, what we actually walked across was a rectangular plot of cement covered in dead rats.

[Hipster scouting: Card game chic]

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


Photo of striped hipsteress by Lola Wakefield for Stuff Hipsters Don’t Like ©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.

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[Hipster scouting: Rockaway Beach]

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…

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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.)

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[Hipster scouting: Craigslist New York]

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

One of the girls I share a Williamsburg artist loft with recently sent me this cry of desperation yuppie fantasy romance plea she came across in the Craigslist personals (I don’t know why she was looking through them. Don’t ask don’t tell, right?).

Anyway, I thought I would post this to give hipsters hope that, despite their outward standoffishness and unemployability, they too can find romance with the middle-aged banker of their dreams!

Banker looking for hipster

Who knows if it’ll work out?
You can’t wait to tear off my pinstripe suit. If you rip any buttons I’ll totally stretch out that tshirt you bought off etsy and pass off as your own.
On Monday nights you’ll try and get me to drink. You’ll think I won’t because I have an adult job. But I won’t because I want to be lucid for this week’s episode of The Hills.
The next day you’ll tell me that my job is boring and that you hate the Upper West Side. But the truth is that you kinda like making out in central park and enjoy that my bonus can cover all the grilled cheese sandwiches you dig. I’ll make fun of whatever dirty street you live on in Brooklyn, but I know it’s a lot more fun.
You’ll pretend you can cook and make me pancakes. I’ll probably distract you while you cook and you’ll probably burn them. It’s OK; I’ve got waffles in the freezer.
I don’t have to tell you what I do or my background. I’m great on paper (school, work, charities). I’m 6’1”…handsome and jewish/irish. You be cute, wear scarves, make witty/biting remarks, and have an infectious smile/laugh.
After a while I’ll probably become a vegetarian because of you and you’ll probably start bringing up op-eds from the wall street journal when you’re hanging out with your friends. It’s cool. Don’t fight it. I promise we’ll have the sweetest combined movie/CD collection of all the couples you know.
Send a PICTURE, AGE AND LOCATION. thanks. :)

I have a feeling that this scenario, should it be actualized by a lone hipsteress with a yuppie fetish, could lead to the most epic tale of unlikely romance of the century (think Pretty Woman but more high-tech and awkward). As a precaution, I will claim rights to that screenplay right now.

Be warned though: evolutionarily speaking, the human race has never experienced a cross of this kind. If said couple actually achieved a combined movie/CD collection that kept them together long enough to mate, the result would likely be a new species…

He can watch sports and pretend to listen while she tells him all about Catcher in the Rye...

He can count his money and pretend to listen while she tells him all about Catcher in the Rye...

According to evolutionary biologists, the yupster offspring would likely experience inclinations to both climb the corporate ladder (which would be met with seemingly unmotivated gifts from his father and poorly-masked glances of disappointment from his mother), and defy corporate dress codes by wearing neon ties and metallic converse high tops (earning grim diatribes from his father and loving gestures of acceptance from his mother). This will result in the need for staff psychologists to develop a whole new scale to measure neuroticism and an entire section in the DSM-IV manual, aka the crazy guide.

The yupster hybrid would go on to create intriguing controversy within the company but would ultimately end up quitting to explore the possibilities of his sub-par punk band (which would of course emply viral marketing schemes to gain followers) or move to Hollywood to direct the movie of the story of his sad existence. Both courses of action would inevitably result in failure (note: the directing plan had promise, but was unfortunately aborted due to an inadvertent copyright breach, followed by a hefty lawsuit).

Mr. Banker, I don’t know if your romantic quest will work out either, but I sure hope it doesn’t – for the sake of the children.


Photo of hipstress reading by Christophe Legris for Stuff Hipsters Don’t Like ©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.

[Hipster scouting: Coney Island]

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.

B) People

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. …