Memoirs of a Hipster

So I was sitting in front of my vintage vanity, its lights illuminating my face. I had on my dark Skinny jeans, with a green over priced American Apparel tShirt hanging off my Petite body (my coffee only diet reduces me to nothing but waifness). My Zooey Deschanel-inspired bangs brush the tops of my eyes, under which you could barely see my winged 60's style eyeliner. Further obscuring My eyes were the pair of Prescriptionliess Ray Bans I had on. I felt that their Irony completed my look. What look Was I going for? A perfect blend of all things hipster.

You see life as a hipster is life if life were a fabulous, high end, yet grunge cocktail party in one's basement. It is Andy Warhol, and records of unknown Indie/Folksy bands, it is flower prints, skinny jeans, it is artsy wittiness, it is quirky irony, all in my vintaged garage, it is photography with my Great aunt's slr camera from the 70's. it is writing without correctly following rules of capitalization because capitalization is conformation. It is abstract Thinking. If Louis Vuitton and Bose got together and designed a pair of headphones, I would be those headphones. Those headphones would be hipster. Those headphones would be me. I am hipster.

Hipster is ciggarette stained kisses. Hipster is hugs that smell of that last coffee drink. Hipster is a blend of all things elusively charming.

life as a hipster is a constant Effortless struggle. It's a boxing match minus The punching and the Pain with the addition of cotton Sundresses and ankle boots and over sized sunglasses. It's Life as life would be if life were a feminine Painting that your Grandmother bought from a Pawn Shop and hung in her garage. It's reading books that somebody with a Bachelor of the Arts would read (meaning above your ability), while drinking Chai at the Starbucks down the street. It's my going on meaningless Tangents of how Unfair it was for Those words in the middle of my sentences not To be capitalized. they Deserve to be capitalized. I will tell you.

hipster is a Culture. We hipsters have our own music, our own fashion, our own beliefs. Beliefs that are well thought out and deep. hipster is a Belief. Hipster Is a religion. Hipster just is.

I ponder all this as I open my armoire, deciding what baggy American Apparel v-neck I should wear for the day. I have burgundy, azure, cobalt, indigo, espresso, burnt auburn, jade, lime, gold, and silver T's. I carefully pick out a nice ivory cardigan to match the ebony tee I've got ready for myself. I look in My vanity one More time, and I decide that my hair looks much too neat. With a little Fekkai hairspray, I muss it up some more, and deem myself fit for my date. I am meeting my boyfriend at the coffee shop down the street from my apartment. you've Probably never heard of it. It's extremely Urban-Bohemian, yet you can't fail but notice an underlying elegance to the west Side joint. I grab my over sized hobo/Messenger bag and make my way down the street, and laugh as I see that my boyfriend, seated in a red booth, reading a book that he got from our last date (one of my boyfriend and my's activities include vintage book shop hopping, something that sets us apart from most other couples), and I match. We both have on slim jeans, his, however, corduroy, a cardigan of some sort, a simple striped tee, and our thick rimmed Ray bans. Although he seems to have outdone me, in his Paisley print scarf.

Most of our dates consist of pseudo-intellectual hipster conversations. We talk of books, small scale, low budget indie films, new bands that you've never heard of, upcoming shows. We speak deeply of philosophy and we ridicule the notion of love, and accept that while, we, in our relationship, are deeply devoted to each other, we are not in love. My boyfriend and I are so alike in that we are such nonconformists.

This is one, unadorned, day of your average hipster. Simple, yet meaningful, and not at all tragically mediocre as yours so sorrowfully is.