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Well, it’s over. I lost, of course. Maybe this will be the blow to my confidence that inspires me to join a corporation and abandon all hipster aspects of my former self! Well, doubtful, but I am making the decision right now to retire from the pageantry world forever.

So, Thursday night, I got a g-talk message from Misha who was panicking because two of the 10 contestants had dropped out. She asked if I knew anyone who would be willing to step in, because well, the people who actually applied were not up to her hipster standards. I almost recruited one hip Williamsburger to help her out, but he dropped out Friday morning. Whatever, I tried.

Contestants were instructed to get to Supreme Trading at 6 for a run-through, but only three from the Miss side and two from the Mr showed up. Where were the others? “They’ll get here later. They have… stuff to take care of,” Misha sketchily replied. Someone made a joke about how they probably had jobs or something, but we immediately ruled out that possibility, it being Williamsburg and all.

Misha fielded our questions before we did a run through of how events would proceed. She also instructed us not to tell anyone from “the press” that the whole applicant process was rigged! Sorry, Misha. Welcome to the 21st Century where ordinary people and seasoned journalists alike can blow your cover in the blogoshpere! Also on the list of things not to talk about was the Colt 45 story (fabricated publicity stunt) and the fact that almost all of the contestants were Misha’s friends from college. The reason why Misha tapped me was because the folks over at FREEwilliamsburg feautred my blog and her pageant two posts away from each other. The only time I had spent with her was half an hour at Beacon’s Closet and an hour at a photo shoot for the NY Post (Note: Judging from their article on the pageant called “Sillyburg,” I think I need to make an addendum to thing hipsters don’t like #4) Being described by arrogant yuppies.)

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#12) Paying for things

Friday, August 22, 2008

Today a lanky hipster girl sauntered into my place of employment/bloggery. I was amused by her apparel – a kelly green button-up belted dress ironically paired with mucho-over-sized-hot-pink-framed sunglasses (which she, of course, did not remove despite her indoor location). But I became even more amused when she inserted her large sketch pad with some kind of design sketches (hopefully that won’t end up on the scrawny bods of future hipster generations) into the scanner, made a bunch of color copies (they are tots $1 each!), looked sketchily at me looking sketchily at her and inched her way to the door. I glared at her at her as she opened it, which I’m sure made her eyes widen to the size of saucers under those actual-saucer-sized eye protectants, and I thought she knew she was busted and would decide to pay for her scans. She skeptically walked back over toward the counter, but instead of completing her transaction, she just closed the lid that was left ajar and darted out of the room!

I mean, who does she think she is Misha Calvert? This is not a bodega and those were not bottles of Colt 45. I thought about calling her out, but whatever. I had just painted my nails and didn’t want to risk smudging should I have to grab her by her bony arm.

I am discontent with the hipster theft, but I also think that I am being credited for it in some kind of karmic redemption process: So far I have accumulated FIVE PAIRS OF OVERSIZED SUNGLASSES left behind by customers that I can wear to look inconspicuous when I am hipster scouting. The hipster world works in mysterious ways!

This bodega-robbing pageant creator actually asked me interview her. That's kind of narcissictic, but whatever...

This bodega-robbing pageant creator actually asked me interview her. Me thinks that's pretty narcissistic, but whatever...

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

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