It’s an important question that every twenty-something living in a major U.S. city must contemplate: Am I a Hipster? Granted, no hipster would ever openly admit to being a hipster, but if it turns out that I am one, it’s important that I admit it to myself. I’m not sure what extreme measures I’ll take to correct this artfully pretentious behavior, but I’m hoping for everyone’s sake it involves something a little more permanently damaging than razor blades and a bathtub.
- I live on the cheap, no car or TV.
- I moved to Seattle on purpose.
- I used to live in a “really amazing” artist’s loft.
- I smoke off-brand cigarettes.
- My nose is pierced.
- I have an iPod.
- I have a myspace profile.
- I don’t have a lawn.
- I can be a sarcastic asshole when I want to be.
- I have black hair with black bangs.
- I own a pair of footless tights.
- I wear hoodies and old-style Adidas.
- My last pair of glasses were black and chunky.
- I am open to the idea that I could be a hipster.
- My parents don’t lend me money for living expenses so I can “explore my creative talents.”
- I moved to Seattle and work at Microsoft on purpose.
- The “really amazing” artist’s loft sucked, so I moved into a corporate-owned shoebox on the north side of town.
- I don’t smoke Parliaments.
- I don’t have any tattoos.
- I don’t have an iMac or iAnythingElse.
- I daily contemplate deleting my myspace profile.
- Get off my lawn.
- I am a sarcastic asshole all the time.
- I have unhighlighted hair and unstyled bangs.
- I have no idea what to wear with footless tights.
- I can’t buy new jeans because they’re all too tight/low-rise.
- I got eye surgery so I could no longer wear glasses that were thick and chunky.
- I nod and smile when people call me a hipster.
- I hate PBR and most beer in general.
- I never miss a good opportunity to chow down.
- I run about 30 miles per week.
- I don’t go to shows.
- Six months of Seattle residency and I still haven’t crawled up KEXP’s ass.
So what’s the verdict? These lists aren’t complete, but I think they provide a decent framework on a slack-worthy Friday afternoon. If it makes any difference, I plan to make up for the company time lost and work late into the evening. Afterward, I will go home and stay there. I’m not going to drink a 10pm-latte. I’m not going to a loft party. And I sure as hell am not going to a show in Capitol Hill. I might cut myself though. It all depends whether I hear any Morrissey or not.