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, 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.)