i know we haven't updated in forever.

but this certainly made us come out of hibernation. in a big way.

the mustaches.

the shirtlessness.

the tattoos.

the hats.

the multicolored video editing.

the comic sans.

wait a second. the COMIC SANS? you guys aren't hipsters because you use comic sans. i don't care how 1990s cool you think you are for lip-syncing to the spice girls.

please, god. make it stop.

bukowski, shmukowski.

today i saw a bumper sticker that said "i'd rather be reading bukowski."

look, i know i'm not a hipster because i don't even know who charles bukowski is. and unlike a nonhipster hipster, i don't pretend to know who charles bukowski is. i just don't give a shit. and i was an english major, goddamnit. and i'm not embarrassed to say so.

even if the driver of that car knows who bukowski is, i'm pretty sure he's never read one of his poems. and if he, lord help us, has read a bukowski poem, i'm sure he can't actually relate to it. at all. ever.

and the irony of it is, an actual hipster who reads bukowski would never advertise it on his bumper. with a sticker. a bumper sticker. not just because an actual hipster probably doesn't have a car, but because actual hipsters don't advertise. and don't spend $4.99 on stickers.

just saying.

pot calling the kettle calling the pot.

on July 4, i was wearing my "fucking hipster" shirt (mentioned here) and a hipster-looking nonhipster (can't fool me!), riding a skateboard, passed me, stopped, turned, pointed, and said "rad shirt."

excuse me, kind sir, but did you just say my shirt is rad? you with your stringy hair and too-big glasses and too-tight jeans and coiffed beard and breath smelling of hummus and italian coffee and brown loafers that are broken in just so and fantastic apartment in the lower haight?

you shouldn't like my shirt, my man. it goes against everything that you're trying to be. but thanks anyway for the compliment.

Farmer Brown's Little Skillet is nonhipster heaven

You might be a bona fide hipster if you're eating lunch at SF's Farmer Brown's Little Skillet, the chicken and waffles window near the ballpark in SOMA. If you wander down there on any given lunch day you'll see a swarm of plaid-clad twenty and thirtysomethings milling around, almost as though they work for some underground movie studio which has wrapped for lunch and then forgotten to bring out the craft service. If you're in that horde,yeah, you might be a hipster, but most likely you're not.

And here's how you can tell if you're not:
1)if you knew the daily specials before you got there bc you follow the place on Twitter
2)if you chat with the rest of your coworkers about IP addresses as you eat your chicken
3)if you ask if they take credit cards
4)you can't finish your waffles and are afraid to mix your meat and your syrup

Almost everyone eating there today was guilty of one of those hipster no-nos, but you know what? It was bliss. Fake hipster bliss.

And I'm covered in the chicken grease to prove it.

RIP michael jackson.

your music, your taste in clothing, and your timeless dance moves have all become an inspiration to nonhipsters everywhere. not to mention fodder at nonhipster parties across the land. emulation, as they say, is the highest form of flattery... most of the time.

rest in peace, mr. jackson. we'll miss you.

I almost found a real hipster!

So I was fretting the other day about you, dear readers. Worrying that I am constantly telling you who is not a hipster, who thinks they are but is wrong, etc., but have never shown you what, exactly, a real hipster is so that you could compare for yourselves. I have had the privilege of adoring and embarrassing myself in front of many a douchy hipster in my time, and so am intimately familiar with the cuts of their jibs, their dirty jackets, their cigarette stench, their delicious rudeness. But I want to make sure you can know who they are, too, so you can know precisely why you and I are not one.

I've been on the look out, San Francisco. There are a few authentic hipsters out there; I encounter them sometimes smoking in the dog park near my house, grimacing. But this week, they were nowhere to be found. Then, as my BF and a few friends and I were driving down SF's financial district, I finally spotted one. Oh, man, he was perfect. Three different flat leather bags slung carelessly from his shoulder, long, disgusting curly hair, tight black jeans shoved inside tight leather boots, headphones!, and handsome, yes, handsome. We were stuck in traffic and he was walking with the brisk, heavy walk of the chosen, and so I stalked him, readers, for you, and snapped a few terribly blurry photos with my decidedly unhip cellphone.
I was so proud of myself! This is what you are aspiring to be, you nonhipsters! This is what you are failing to achieve! An air of superiority evident even from the street!

But then, oh god--I'm sure you can see it coming--he revealed his true self. As a pair of musicians walked past our man, guitars hanging over their shoulders, our supposed hipster's droopy frown vanished from his face, he bared his teeth into an absurd grin and literally turned his fingers in mock guns and pointed at them, winking his eye and giving them the old, yeehaw!

Sorry readers, I failed you. Just another wannabe, loose on the streets of our city.

thanks, yahoo.

among the millions of reasons why i'm not a hipster: i use yahoo/sbcglobal/att for my primary e-mail address. (i also have a gmail account, and i'm slowly but surely using that as my primary e-mail account... but these things take time!)

but i digress.

after my google search for the word hipster, i think it thought that it should somehow market some sort of advertising to me.

this is what it came up with:



really? that's all you've got, yahoo? a big, stupid banner that says hipster?

(for the record, this is what happened when i clicked on it. and i clicked on it solely for the purpose of this post.)

but here's the rub: i postulate that this banner is a hipster. it's clearly not trying too hard and its low-tech nature resembles that of a hipster. kind of like having bedhead, without the styling product.

maybe att/yahoo/sbcglobal is onto something.

a letter from a dutiful reader.

j in san diego writes:

"Do mutton chops and driving a VW van, a hipster make?"

good eye, dear reader. however, the answer is "no" because i happen to know that you live in san diego. the supposed hipster (or nonhipster, as the case may be) that you spotted is probably, in fact, a hippie surfer.

keep those e-mails coming, folks!

can i get a hell yeah?

today i was perusing the wide and vast internet for anything hipster related. this mainly included googling the word "hipster."

among the many (many) sites i came across was this one: portland hipsters.

say what? portland hipsters? i'm sorry, but no. first of all, hipsters don't ever live in portland. everyone knows that.

the main page of the web site is all the reason i need to flag this entire site as unhipster. the pink. the photos. the fact that it's called "portland hipsters."

but then, after a little digging, i found this link, at the top right: a hipster mom.

a hipster mom.

sorry, portland hipsters. your lists upon lists of what makes a hipster a hipster is exactly why you're not a hipster. hipster strip bars? i think not.

plus, you live in portland. did i mention that already?

You're not, cuz your bike belongs in the circus and...

the dude behind you is in chinos and you are kissing each other to turn him on and he is clearly not cool enough for you.

You are hot carnies.

Sorry for the ravings, but you have a problem San Francisco

I apologize for my previous post. I was angry and irrational and now I have calmed down.

But the reason is I got so upset is that Guidespot.com article is EXACTLY WHAT IS WRONG WITH US, SAN FRANCISCO. No, not everyone can be a hipster. Perhaps this mindset is leftover from California elementary schools that taught every kid that he or she was special, when clearly, one was funny, one was fat, one was pretty, one could shoot snot out his nose and suck it back up, and the rest were just nothing spectacular to speak of.

This "you can be anything you want to be and you want to be a hipster" attitude is precisely why I end up sitting in a darkened bar having to listen to myriad nonhipsters go on and on about how hipster they and all their friends are. And I think to myself as I stir my dirty shirley temple, if all those beautiful boys I pined away after in New York could hear this they would be turning over in their graves. If they were dead. Which they aren't. Which is totally a hipster thing to be: alive and unabashed about it, that is.

Guidespot.com (whatever that is) claims anyone in SF can be a hipster

Wrong. Oh my god, wrong. I'm having heart failure it is so wrong. Dear readers, allow me to parse the offending opening paragraph with you (I couldn't read further; my bowels wouldn't allow it).

Anyone can be a hipster. All you need is an elitist and disaffected attitude, a few pairs of skinny jeans (maybe American Apparel's unisex pant, which come in many colors, or a pair of Cheap Mondays, a Swedish brand that got huge two years ago but is still selling at Urban Outfitters), some ironic thrift store t-shirts (the cotton has to be worn really thin so that they are an aura of 'authenticity'), a huge collection of music (note: vinyl > mp3), an apartment in the Mission District, a non-corporate job (bartender, barista, retail clothing associate, non-profit), a MySpace profile that has more than 1000 friends, some scuffed up canvas sneakers (NOT Converse), a neckerchief (bandanas on your actual head are so two years ago), a pair of 80s-era sunglasses, and a few visible tattoos. And while it's not necessary, it might be helpful to stop eating meat and to pick up a drug or alcohol problem.


That fucking list makes no sense, Guidespot. Let's go through it point by point and refute each claim with proof:

Skinny jeans does not a hipster make: I know this bc I have friends who are hippies who wear them. That, and my mother has a pair and she's 60 with a knee replacement, bitches. (Though she does look great.)

Ironic thrift store shirts: You know who else wears those? Nerds. And geeks. And EVERYONE.

Huge collection of music: Huh, this is a shocker. Way to be original Guidespot, trying to play into our "people in a band who like music are hipsters" bias. But I see right through it, bc you know why? In order to be a hipster you can't just HAVE a ton of music, you have to be a dick about it. But you are correct that hipsters would have vinyl as opposed to MP3s (thank you hipsters, for keeping our meager record shops in business). But simply having much music does not make you a hipster; it makes you cultured (which is totally not hipster, btw.)

A Mission apartment: I guess this is just assuming that a) no families or coporoate people live in the Mission, also and b) no hipsters live anywhere else.

A non-corporate job: Maybe the only thing you got right, Guidespot. Though if by "retail clothing associate" you meant salesgirl, then, uh, yeah--why'd you make it sound all corporate if that was the opposite of your point?

A MySpace page: I won't say anything, dear readers, bc I might soil myself with rage. Just no. No.

Sneakers: Whatever. Who doesn't wear sneakers? The badassest of hipsters are SO done with them, anyway, and are totally wearing crocodile flats and old-fashioned leather tuxedo shoes. Yeah, sneakers are just so everywhere these days.

A neckerchief: First, fuck you for using that term. And second, no, bc Rachel Ray wears that.

'80s era sunglasses: You know who else wears those? Marina girls. And rich people.

Tattoos: Nice, Guidespot, way to steal what is rightfully punk rock's and hardcore's and attribute it to the disaffected white youth. Nice.

Vegetarianism: Too lame to be hipster.

Drug problem: Too Lindsey Lohan to be hipster. At least, publicly. All the best hipsters snort drugs, and handle that shit! No rehab for them, bc they are livin' it.


Jesus. Wow. Sorry.

When is the mullet ironic and when is it simply tragic?

Astute and curious reader Ashley sent in this photo. At first assuming he was NOT a hipster, she then questioned herself. Could that mullet really make this scowling, Bart train-riding man a hipster?
The answer, in three parts but no uncertain terms, is no, this man is not a hipster.

First, he is not a hipster because he is riding a train downtown in the morning, presumably to a job, and if he is on Ashley's train that means he is on time for said job. That's not a very hipster thing to be: punctual, that is.

Second, he appears to be older than the cut-off age of 32 (and that is the very, very tail end of hipsterdom, friends). Now this is a blurry phone photo, but I think we can all agree that he's got some gray hairs on those temples (I feel your pain, dude, as I, Blu, also suffer from premature graying. It is a sad, sad state of affairs).

And third, and most importantly, that mullet appears to be just how his hair falls naturally! He hasn't gussied it up with a head scarf, or some loose, stray, greasy tendrils to let us in on his little hipster hair joke. No, his hair is clean, combed, and mulleted. Now, that my friends, is an unironic mullet. And therefore, sir, you are not a hipster.

But congrats on rocking the mullet bravely, and for your seeming employment, and for your use of public transit. We nonhipsters sallute you.

i saw the movie 'the aristocrats' the other day.

you're not a hipster, phyllis diller, because you're made out of clay.

Oh New York Times, you know disgusting when you see it

Yesterday, The New York Times published an article entitled, "Walk a Mile in their Droopy Cardigans," which beseeches the public to feel the pain that is the hipster condition and stop giving them such a hard time. So, they are beautiful and annoying in their grimacing and perfect skinniness? So what? Lay off!

Then there was this little delicious tidbit:

So, hipsters: go ahead and crowd the city in your cute outfits and messy hair. Just smile more often, and maybe stop wearing those deep V-neck tees. They’re gross.

Agreed. See, one thing about San Francisco quasi-hispters is they already smile. That's a telltale no-no and would immediately disqualify them from the group on the streets of New York. Even the Times knows that! And the thing about low-cut V-Necks: well, for one, hipsters here don't really sport that look too much, bc even if they try to, the cold air and fog requires they cover it up with some Member's Only Jacket or pashmina they ripped to shreds. Sometimes we are lucky that summer here is chilly, folks.

But, oy. On those sunny days in Dolores park when the skinny boys start broadcasting their meager chest hair to the gathered hoards, by god, it's ridiculous. As someone whose brother has recently discovered this low-cut look, I can tell you, I'm sick of it. There is seriously nothing worse than sitting down to an already detestable family dinner and having to stare at the three curly chest hairs of your 22-year-old brother. Cover that shit up. We are eating.

for the nonhipster who has everything.

take your trust fund money and put it toward something that's both useful and fashionable. show your true nonhipster colors with this t-shirt from vig tees.

i just bought mine. when're you getting yours?

every time is hammer time.

you can see the fear in the eyes of the nonhipsters.

"are gold lamé hammer pants what we need to aspire to?" they're asking. "are skinny jeans out, hammer pants in?"

we should only be so lucky.

valley of the dolls and other rarities.

the weird thing about the film "valley of the dolls" is, well, everything. it's like being at a party and you're asked to bring the chips, and then you bring the chips, only to find that everyone else brought the chips. and not only that, but nobody at the party even wants the fucking chips. so you all brought the chips, nobody's eating the chips, and they're just sitting there on the table, laughing at you. the chips are. and then you all play twister and read shel silverstein out loud. that's how weird this movie is.

if i hadn't read the book, i would probably still be watching the movie, trying to figure out what the fuck and why the fuck and how the fuck.

the best part about the movie is patty duke. the worst part about the movie is sharon tate, which is also the best part about the movie, so explain that one. sharon tate in real life was married to roman polanski and was murdered by members of the charles manson "family." i learned that on wikipedia.

it's pretty obvious what makes these nonhipsters nonhipsters. the very essence of hipstersdom is harking back to an earlier time, referencing something that evokes something in something. you can't be hip without imitating what you think is hip. and you can't be nonhip without knowing that you're imitating what you think is hip.

you can't be a nonhipster without first being on the road to being a hipster.

these dolls in the valley, these dolls taking these dolls, are actually authentic. they're actors, they're snobs, they dress fancy, and they have amazing hair. and they drink a lot, not to emulate their predecessors, but because they're genuinely miserable. nothing says nonhipster less than being actually miserable and acting accordingly.

wet and wild.

usually, just being in the presence of a slip n slide--or even a "slip and slide" made of mylar and mud and wet grass--makes you a nonhipster, but under certain circumstances, you can slide, and still be a hipster.

Those circumstances include:

1. partaking in an ironic photo shoot for paper magazine.
2. you're a living art installation about childhood and america.
3. you're on the losing end of a very high-stakes betting situation.
4. you happen to look fabulous wet and on your belly.

if you're a goth

And a Trekky.

RIP Dom DeLuise

You weren't a hipster, Dom, but you were rad. You shall be missed!

I was once at a steak house in Florida and Dom was there. He was making the whole restaurant laugh. When I finished my food, he took the plate from me and drew a picture on it in sharpie. It was of Dom's face and a horse. It wasn't very good, but I loved it and I loved him. And he let me smoke his cigar. I was 13 years old.
If you don't know Dom, check out "Spaceballs" and "Robinhood Men in Tights." And "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas."

Things Dom shared in common with hipsters:
1)He was from Brooklyn
2)He went to college in the North East
3) He wore funny hats

Things Dom did not have in common with hipsters:
1) He was funny, damn it
2) He loved food and ate it in public and even wrote cookbooks
3)He worked steadily his whole life and made his way up in the industry with nothing to help him but a gut and grin

I'll be drinking in his honor and watching Mel Brooke's films tonight, if you're looking for me.

UPDATE: I'm a liar

It has been brought to my attention that I am a liar. My BF just read the post about him and has threatened to withhold sex until I get my facts straight.

Update: That's a lie, too; he would never do that, but he is pissed.

Apparently, I was mad drunk when his American Apparel hipster encounter was taking place and don't remember things quite as clearly as I thought.

For the record, my anonymous BF likes Mickey's. He never said those thing about video games, though to be fair, they are true. He had a way more pithy comeback to the AAer than my fermented brain can recall.

Oh, and it all started bc the love of my life called the AAer a hipster first, so there! (As a matter of fact, the AAer is a hipster, so that wasn't an insult; it was an observation.)

Shut up American Apparel

This weekend an honest-to-goodness American Apparel EMPLOYEE called my BF a hipster. Needless to say, I'm out for blood.

When my muscular lover dared protest, this AA rep cited his shoes (OK, yellow Asics Tigers) as proof. "Oh yeah," said my man. "How about the fact that I'm drinking this Mickey's you gave me and I hate it?" When that wasn't enough to convince the AAer of my BF's nonhipster bonafides, he brought out the big guns. "I'm not a hipster bc I majored in science, and not just so I could make drugs in my basement but bc I actually like science. Plus, I own a PlayStation and I play it. And I'm good."

And with that, the AAer was quiet, bc even if he plays video games or has taken ecstacy and wondered what a synapse was, he would never admit it. Ever.

What to do if you find yourself in an American Apparel and you're not a hipster:

1) Avoid the leggings. We nonhipster can't handle them and our cellulite is why.
2)Try on the jeans, bc they actually are pretty nice on our asses and they don't get holes in the crotch as quickly as other jeans do.
3) Leave the leotard alone. You might think it'll be awesome like when you were in that ballet class at age 3, but unless you listen to The Darkness and not just for that one bomb-ass song, you're just gonna look like a twit. Even then. Only a very certain kind of authenitc hipster can rock the leotard, and if you are blessed to be such a person, you know who you are. And if you are one of those rare people, fuck you. Seriously. Keep your freakishly flat stomach and perky breasts out of my face.


Air kiss!

quasimodo chic.

you're not a hipster because you're standing next to h&m.

You're not, cuz you're funny

Classic SF nonhipster commonly mistaken for a hipster by people who have never been to New York. Why?

Oh, there are so many reasons. 1.) He's funny. 2.) He's wearing khakis. (Yes, he is. Look harder.) 3.) He's into bikes and has a pierced (maybe gauged?) ear and it's not ironic. 4.) His hair is blond (maybe even dyed.)

If he ever went to Williamsburg he'd get his ass beat by girls wearing vintage wrong. Actually, scratch that--if he ever went to Williamsburg the real hipsters would cower in fear, bc one thing SF nonhipsters have over those puny New Yorkers is muscle mass. Score one for us.

Oh, the home team. How I love you.

(Via SFist)

"My golden hoodie strings totally match my facial hair"

Dude, no. No. It's part wanna-be, part oil painting. It may be part awesome, but it's definitely not hipster.

Only on Bart would this jacket ever happen.

Thanks jada, for sending this in!

Quote of the week

The thing about the guy who uttered the below quote is that he rocks. Rocks. I have a soft spot for him in my heart for all sorts of reasons, not least of which is that he enjoys the same organic market in Red Hook that one of my favorite nonhipster friends ever (gregory from NYC) took me to, and also that he, too, suffers the indignity of a day job. I feel your pain, dude.

And according to his interview, he's not getting much play, Greenpoint Brooklyners. So, mobilize nonhipster hotties, and give this man some love.



Broke-Ass Stuart: Are you a hipster?

Paul T. Alkaly: I’m too fat to be a hipster. I guess that would make me a fipster.



Read the whole interview.

P.S., Mr. Alkaly, if you lived in San Francisco everything would be cheaper (excet rent) and the nonhipster hoards would welcome you with their chipper, drunken, naturally blond come-ons in beautiful, debaucherous parks. Just a thought.

silver is the new gold.

this was submitted by our loyal reader jay. thanks jay!

when pigs fly... or when swine flu...

before this gets out of hand even more than it already has, you're not a hipster if you think you have, talk about having, talk about someone who has, talk about someone who might have, or even mention the words: swine flu.

most importantly because a hipster wouldn't know if he had it or not. hipsters don't get wrapped up in hype.

swing out, sisters...

to all you guys swinging happily on bart: you're not hipsters because you're having fun. you're not worried about being judged. you're smiling. you're not judging anyone. you're swinging on swings and having fun.

true hipsters would spend the time on bart, reading camus kierkegaard and judging others harshly, so that others judging them would not matter.

you swingers are doing none of the above.

i was almost tricked by this guy. his scraggly beard and unkempt hair almost made me question his trying to be a hipster.

"maybe," i thought. "maybe he truly is one."

then i noticed the jacket, and realized that he, too, is trying just a bit harder than he'd care to admit. and that shit-eating grin on his face is just too much to handle.

disqualified.

nice try, nonhipsters on bart. but you can't fool me.

a shout out...

to the guy i saw wearing a pea coat and greek fisherman cap as i walked up 2nd street this afternoon, you're not a hipster. pea coats are wool, not cotton, and it was actually tailored to your body, clearly illustrating that it was purchased rather than picked up off a pile of discarded clothing somewhere on the other side of cesar chavez street. i'm also pretty sure you got your hat from marc jacobs, which means you must've stepped foot in pacific heights. i don't care how skinny your jeans are, or what level of aloof your facial expression is.

Vampires vs. hippies

Girl, you're not because you have a tan (see previous commenter for reasons why this disqualifies you). And you sir, are not, because you are a white man with dreadlocks, which means one thing: hippie! You're a hippie! And even your skinny jeans and your scarf can't change that.

But you guys look mad happy, so, mazel tov! But another thing: obvious happiness is a hipster no-no. (Exceptions to this rule: when watching the television show "Twin Peaks" or finding a Member's Only jacket in a color you don't already own, it is OK to smile and even whistle. But then you have to stop.)

(Via Fashionist)

Farmers' markets are places hipsters go to look ironic; not to eat

Because of the zipper. And you're waiting in line to sample free food. To eat. In public. Hipsters are never seen eating.

Also, uh, that bag means you maybe rode a bike in those shoes, and as much as track bike riders this city over will hate to hear this, hipsters don't ride bikes. They don't have enough muscle mass.

You're not a hipster.

on the 31 balboa yesterday afternoon...

hi, sorry to break it to you, but you're not a hipster. refer to to this post if you need to know why.

Putting my foot in my mouth (where it belongs)

OMG, Allan just commented on the blog (blush--hi Allan!). This gives me an idea: perhaps I should write quasi-insulting posts about all the bloggers I admire and then we can be BFF. Ezra Klein, the next one's coming at you. Though the reasons Ezra's not a hipster are innumerable and obvious, including, but not limited to, the fact that he cares passionately about, you know, health care, Palestine, and global poverty. That is totally not a hipster thing to do.

Why Allan from Mission Mission is not a hipster

Here's the thing about being a hipster. It’s like Fight Club: the first rule is you don't talk about it, and the second rule is that you never, not ever, admit to being one or think you are one. The moment you think you are one, you're not. I'm definitely not one because the other rule about being a hipster is if you have a side ass (the proper name for which may be saddle bags, but fuck you, that is rude) and are knock-kneed, you're not one. So that leaves me out. Whatever.

Now, my good friend whom I adore (and by that I mean this dude whose blog I love and read but have never met but whose taste in chicaronnes and dive bars is impeccable) Allan, from Mission Mission, seems on the surface to be a hipster. He kinda dresses like one--tight pants, ironically overdressed skinny ties--and he lives in SF's hipster mecca, the Mission. But then you start to realize, no Allan, you're not a hipster. Evidence that he is not:

1. He runs a successful and ever-popular Web site. Hipsters don't need fans. They send their art out into the void and the moment it becomes popular or makes them money, they cease being hipsters.
2. He is 28. That's almost too old to be a hipster. It's like being an actress, only slightly less soulless.
3. In a recent interview with Broke Ass Stuart, he is asked point blank if he is a hipster and he answers, "Well, I am wearing a fanny pack." That, my nonhipster masses, is a tacit yes. And as we know, that breaks the cardinal rule of being a hipster. Also, I have a friend who wears fanny packs and she does it without any of that affected irony that Williamsburg heroine-chic history majors wear it with. And you know why? Bc she grew up behind the fucking iron curtain, bitches, and she doesn't know the fanny pack is from the '80s! She thinks it's new, and shockingly convenient. Once I said to her, "Hey insert-Russian-name here, you're wearing a fanny pack!" and her face turned red and she said, "Why vood you call dis dat? Dis is my hip purse!"

Now, she, my friends, is a hipster. Because she's awesome and has no clue.

(Photo credit: Broke Ass Stuart)

these shoes are made for standing around and doing virtually nothing in

hipsters don't care about what they wear on their feet. as long as they can have their morning cup of coffee and write a poem and perhaps create some music that's not going to be mainstream for another four years.

nonhipsters care very much about what they wear on their feet. and usually end up wearing some urban outfitters rehash of a shoe that was solely (pun intended) worn to be functional, not fashionable, about 25 years ago -- older than the actual wearer. like keds. and vans. and anything you'd find here.

now i'm not saying that these shoes are particularly bad. or unfashionable. or even not functional. because they are. and they can be.

shoes don't make the man. or the hipster, as the case may be. just like prada doesn't always mean pretty (case in point), weird, beat up, and narrow doesn't mean hipster. it just doesn't. no matter how much you wish it to be true.

when is a hipster not a hipster?

so in trying to come up with a theme for this blog, blü and i had a long discussion about what makes a hipster not a hipster. mostly to make sure we're not hipsters ourselves, thus deeming this blog pretty hypocritical and lame. but partly to determine what it is about hipsters that makes them not hipsters, even though they think they're hipsters.

and the answer is: hipsters who think they're hipsters, are nonhipsters.

saying "i'm a hipster" or not cringing when someone else calls you a hipster, makes you a nonhipster.

hanging out with other people who say "i'm a hipster" makes you a nonhipster by proxy.

or, if someone were to ask you "are you a hipster?" and you answer, even in your mind and not out loud, "yes," then you're definitely not a hispter.

saying "hipsters like track bikes, like mine" implying that you are, indeed, a hipster yourself, makes you a nonhipster.

if you who dress like what you think hipsters dress like, but make an effort to do so, then you're a nonhipster.

the list is endless. and will therefore be added to as this blog gains momentum.

enjoy. and remember: you're not a hipster.