This evening I hauled two big bags of worn literature down Damen to sell at Myopic Books, the mega used books store and Kaaba of the Hipster Mecca that is the 6 Corners of Wicker Park. I got two major things out of the experience:
a) $35 for the books they wanted, which I greatly appreciated
b) the realization that I am not a hipster.
I used to be a hipster, I think. I at least really WANTED to be a hipster, which I think is the definition of a hipster. What changed? What made me feel so uncomfortable and stifled surrounded by black skinny jeans, cute vintage scarves, vegan milkshakes, dark lighting, and no cell phone policies? Why did I start panicking in the middle of Earwax Cafe–all that black coffee and all those desperately apathetic students talking in the foreground of some band whispering about solitude and alluding to a Rimbaud poem? This is something I would have been ALL ABOUT two years ago.
I walked up Damen, getting into Bucktown which is even more stifling with all its ladies and their make-up and their long hair and high heels in a world I have ever been a part of, frantically turning on my iPod loaded with Reggaeton, just so I would feel normal. Hearing “Baja baja baja baja mamacita” from cars flashing colored lights would have been so comforting at that moment. It was lovely coming back to dirty little Albany Park with its independent grocery stores and creepy 24-Hour Lebanese restaurants with the health department warnings.
I wonder, if when I’m living in Chile, I will miss the neighborhoods like Bucktown. I wonder if I will re-claim my ex-hipster-identity, because it is something different to them, but comfortable to me.
It’s hard to imagine Hipsterness ever being comfortable again. Even if I don’t eat meat or dairy, even though I listen to experimental bands whose members have angsty side bangs and wear ironic t-shirts, even though I sometimes read Kierkegaard and occasionally dip into poetry, even if I reeeeeeeally like independent coffee shops…I feel isolated by Hipsterdom these days. I feel like I can no longer muster up all that apathy. It takes a lot of energy not to care. It also takes a lot of energy to pretend I like stuff like riding bikes and Michel Gondry and French elecontronica.
I’m hopeful for the next sub-culture. Maybe it will be the opposite of hipsterness. Maybe it will be “People who actually really care about stuff in an open, passionate way and aren’t worried every second about what people think about them and don’t have intimidating haircuts.” Yeah that sounds nice.
I described someone as a hipster to my law school friends last week and they looked at me like I was crazy. None of them had even heard the term. I tried to write it off as a regional thing, but a couple of them are from the Chicago area. I know “hipster” isn’t just a North Park term/north side of chicago term, but I think it might be more prevalent there than most places? Anyway, I tried to describe what I meant by “hipster”, certain that my friends would recognize the classification, but I didn’t have much success. “You mean grunge?” one girl asked. No, a little perkier. And more judgmental. They rarely own cars. “Hippies?” More intellectually pretentious. With more obscure taste in music. “Oh, you mean emo.” No, not exactly. Not really. Finally someone suggested that all hipster really means is “snob.” I think that might be accurate. – which is probably why I so identify with your lack of comfort around hipsterdom. I;m always so on edge around self-proclaimed hipsters, mostly because I feel like I have to apologize for liking Beyonce or eating steak or not owning a bike – all things which, honestly, I’m sort of proud of :-) Here’s to the next sub-culture!
P.S. I always forget to sign my name on these things. (although, I’m guessing my reference to law school probably gave me away)
First of all, I need to say something important. I love Myopic Books. It is one of me and Wayne’s favorites. I know. I know! But we like being around all the books. And I like that I’ve gotten to know the cat and also that little half-floor where they keep A-C and also the huge essay section, which you don’t always find.
I think we’re (all of us. I won’t specify, just all of us) in a good spot where we can be choosey within the culture. I can feel free to be as hipster as I want, and as hipster-rejecting, whenever. I used to be intimidated by hipsters and then I wanted to be a hipster and now I’m more of a hipster-sympathizer. I see one and I’m just like, “I know. I know, it’s hard to be a person in this crazy world and your skinny jeans and your music and your bangs, they all help you with that. It’s really okay.” You know? I can speak hipster and visit hipster but I wouldn’t live in the country.
Unless one tries to out-lit-crit me, or makes me feel stupid, then I’m like a crazy spider monkey in defense of my own opinions. Hahaha!
And Malinda. That story was really funny.
Maybe I don’t mind hipsters because I don’t think I’ve ever been one. Not successfully anyway, I’m too impressionable. :)
Also, this was really beautifully written. And it made me think. Sorry my comment is so long!
Hi!!
So I was reading your blog yesterday and I stepped away from my computer to get a snack. A woman I work with watched the desk for me, and she read alittle bit of your blog. When I got back, she said it was “such a good article” and asked me where to find it on her computer. I emailed her the link.
Hours later she was raving about what a great writer you are, “so down to earth,” she said, “such beautiful writing!” She was quite taken with you, missy. You are a good writer. :)
Mari, you will always find those types of people everywhere! South America is no better regarding that, you’ll find amazing people but people that care about what others think is universal!!
What made you go to Chile? Why not Argentina :P?