OK hipsters, I don’t know what your deal is. I’ve been told we look a bit alike, but other than my obsession with bedhead and used flats, it bears repeating– what the hell is your deal?
I can overlook your unabating need to colonize ‘stale’ or ‘unfunny’ things in the name of irony. I can get over that. It’s brought me lots of amusing moments so far, like the way ‘Mom Jeans’ made that stern and committed comeback. You guys weren’t serious about that, right? And thanks to you, what I used to have to treasure hunt for at the Salvation Army (i.e.:oversized cardigans, ironic t-shirts) every sucker can now get at H & M, Urban Outfitters, and the Gap (the children whose nimble fingers made that clothing thank you too!). But let me get back to the point– I can ignore the mustaches and the insistent fluorescence. I can get over the perpetual state of recovery you seem to feign walking around in, and I can avoid the coffee-shops you occupy while you do so. I can look past the weird unspoken way something has to be rare to be cool, unless it’s Drake, and then it can be heartily enjoyed ‘ironically’. Right. I can overlook the navel-gazing and the nihilism, unless of course we’re talking about this recent fetish that ya’ll seem to have with carnism.
I debated even writing this piece, thinking that maybe I oughta take it easy on the hipsters, that they’re sometimes progressive in other areas of the social justice movement. Then, as I stood in line at a corner store on Bloor over the weekend, I received what I consider an omen. Standing before me, was the unofficial posterboy for hipsterism: beat up loafers, paint- speckled tight denim cut offs, a powder blue dress shirt unbuttoned to reveal some sort of commemorative jersey tee from a high school wrestling match in 1972, black Ray-Bans, and that wacky hair I can only describe as ‘Kramer-esque’. I thought to myself: “If this dude pulls out bacon, I’m going to freaking lose it”. What does the dummy pull out FIRST? A package of Maple Leaf Bacon. Sorry folks, you had it coming.
Let’s start with some basics. You do know that bacon isn’t edgy, right? Whether it’s good ol’ Maple Leaf or the boutique butcher shops popping up all over hipster communities, it appears as though somewhere, one of you got a little too into Epic Mealtime or Paula Deen (‘ironically’, I’m sure) and suddenly hipsterism isn’t touting veganism or even vegetarianism the way it used to. You do know that eating steak is like listening to Top 40 (and not ironically), right? You are aware that fetishizing non-human animals is the norm, not some fringy deviation, right? (Crash one of Michael Pollan’s pig roasts in Berkeley, you’ll see!)
You also know that supporting monster corporations like Maple Leaf is, in your world, the same as… wait– is there anything you have a consistent, principled stance on, or can you always justify otherwise embarrassing behaviour, so long as you make a decent pun out of it? Your notorious flesh-fests are no more creative or alternative than Christmas at my family’s house, where everyone talks about the sales at Wal-Mart, the finale of Dancing With the Stars, and how Tim Horton’s coffee gives them the runs. You get the picture. And to get all Breakfast Club on you– I think non-vegan hipsters are as cruel and pathetic as jocks (and with shittier hand-eye coordination).
And if you’re a hipster and you ARE vegan? Rock on, my sharp-dressed friend! May your biannual Twin Peaks theme parties become the stuff of legends, may your sparrow tattoos never fade, and may the rumours about American Apparel’s continuous downward spiral be greatly exaggerated.