The Secrecy and Denial of being a Hipster

The other day my brother looked at me and said: “You’re such a hipster” followed by a rolling of his eyes… Now I wonder. What does he mean I’m a hipster? And why does he roll his eyes? I hate when he rolls his eyes. It means he’s judging. It means NO good.

Does he say it because I wear large shades and a kafiya, like thrift shops, use mild narcotics, have a concern with a good orgasm, a STRONG appreciation for nostalgic items of the past such as pictures, accessories and cameras, love taking pics, shop in Urban Outfitters, I’m obsessed with Native American stuff, and now have a blog? Well maybe… but I don’t smoke or drink Pabst Blue Ribbon, I don’t particularly like 80’s dance parties, I don’t claim being an artist, although I wish my painting skills were better, I don’t like obscure indie music, don’t have an urge for joining a circus and do have an opinion on my country’s political status. So… according to this video I’m no hipster!

Leave you with it, for your own hipsterhood assessment.
Props to Jessica Lehrman. Nice music.

…Oh and I don’t even ride a bike.
Last time I did, I ran over TWO people. I don’t think that would be a hipster thing to do…


About hipcoulture

Sicilian mud-bath. undecided at mind, decided at heart. brave when moving away, a coward when saying goodbye. great when talking about others, terrible when talking about myself. love travelling... love everything about it.
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