I just finished reading this novel. Who’s it by? Oh, you’ve probably never heard of him. Oh yeah and this great band I just got into is putting out a new record, just in time for me to listen to it on this great record player I found at a thrift store.
But yeah, sorry, I have to go home and play with my cat! He looks just like the one from “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
Does this sound like a conversation you may have had with a certain someone, usually found wearing large, thick-rimmed glasses, possibly smoking a cigarette (American Spirit) and reeking ever-so-slightly of gourmet coffee?
If so, there’s probably a word you use to describe that person, and the word is “hipster.” Oh, and what a loaded word it is. The connotations, the expectations and the visualizations of this word and of the people who are shoved into this category have become a common part of our lives.
Yet I wonder, why is it so easy to make fun, so easy to groan at the actions of these people we have decided to name hipsters?
In part, I believe it’s because the actions seem overdone; over-thought, like the little engine that never stopped striving for obscurity.
Most things frequently associated with those hip young adults, however, are things that I enjoy myself.
I love coffee, reading, fashion and finding cheap and beautiful thrift store finds.
I believe that everything I enjoy plays into the kind of person I am, but I also believe that I do not define myself by how many jazz clubs I frequent.
And for me, that’s the rub.
To find that behind the Ray-Bans is someone who is actually just a very pretty but ultimately boring person is where my angsty-college student annoyance lies.
I tell you, hip friends, it is possible that people will both like and love you for who you truly are, not just where you bought your ironically-ugly new shoes.
It is possible for you to be a well-rounded, likeable hip young person without shoving your superior knowledge of everything in everyone’s face.
It is the sad truth that so many of us today are so concerned with outward appearance and being different, exotic and obscure, that we’re nearly scared of appearing normal.
I say, why not embrace our normalcy along with our differences?
Why not be okay with admitting both ignorance and knowledge?
So, hipsters, this is not meant to offend. It is only meant as some form of intervention aimed at the super-trendy.
I would love to go to Westport and visit coffee shops with you.
It would be great to discuss some outlandish, contemplative philosophy while hearing the sweet sounds of that new record playing in the background.
To everyone, whether hipster, slightly hip or just plain awesome, let’s have fun with our differences and our coolness.
That’s part of being young. Hell, that’s part of being human.
Hipsters, I love you, I myself am in your realm. But please, quit trying to impress me.