Walking around town this morning, I saw something quite disturbing. It was a hipster. “But wait!” you say, “YOU are a hipster. Otherwise, why would you be writing for this blog?” Wait, dear readers, let me finish.
This was an old hipster. A hipster over the age of forty. A man dressed up as something his child would be old enough to claim as his own. Someone desperately clinging to the last vestiges of his youth, ungracefully (and unconvincingly) pretending to be full of vim, vigor, vitality, and other words describing people half his age.
Look. There isn’t really an agreed-upon cutoff date for people in subcultures, but everyone knows past a certain age, people are supposed to grow up. My reaction would have been the same if that 40-year-old was dressed as goth or scene or whatever other high-school stereotype might still be prevalent. They’re called high-school stereotypes for a reason. And hipsters, being a (mostly) college-aged stereotype, is little better. I know people who look younger than myself that dress like professionals every day and go to high-paying jobs and do adult things of that nature. Then on the other hand there’s this dude who graduated college in 1991 and is acting like that was a year ago. PROTIP: Skinny jeans don’t suit you, guy. Time to hang it up.
Something else that really skeeves me out about the whole thing is that it might be a cover to pick up chicks half his age who would otherwise be attracted to hipsters. I mean, a sober she-hipster would obviously brush off this tryhard without a second thought. But one plied by a few PBR’s too many? Well, still I think the pathetic vibes coming from this type of dude might be picked up by even the drunkest chick, but you never know with these things.
Basically, my entire objection to this sight wasn’t the fact that he was old. I know everyone is going to be old at some point. You can’t live forever, and you can’t look young forever (unless you’re a celebrity and you feel like experimenting with multi-million dollar techniques, and those are a crapshoot). But look, when I’m that guy’s age I am not going to be hanging around coffeeshops trying to dress like and impress people half my age. That’s totally retarded, and more than a little sad. The older you get, the more the fashion of subculture becomes something closer to a Halloween costume. The-40-year-old-as-hipster is the equivalent of wearing a Spider-Man costume: Funny on October 31st, ridiculous and stupid any other day of the year.
My advice: Dude, act and dress like someone your age. Grow old with dignity. Marry someone from your own generation (when that chick you picked up at the bar is sober and hears you rhapsodizing about the decade before she was born, she’s going to hate your wrinkled ass). Then, when you pass out of this life, you’ll be remembered as a person, and not a tryhard.
Unless this is your casket. Then you’ll be remembered as diehard.