The word ‘hipster’ is ubiquitous, but what really defines the word–the attitude, the music, or simply the look? Drew Gemmer examines the hipster archetype and teases out the key concept: irony.

by Drew Gemmer
drew@bygonebureau.com
Contributing Writer

I swear I’m not a hipster. I live in Portland–which Wikipedia implies is ground zero for hipsters–because it’s fun and affordable and I really like trees. I have a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon in my fridge (come on, it’s cheap and wonderful), and I guess I like indie music quite a bit. Also, I wear a lot of horizontal stripes, and I really like to call things “post-modern” in an ironic fashion. But I won’t admit to it. I’m not a hipster.

Nobody would actually admit to being a hipster. Part of the reason is that no official definition of the word has emerged. What has definitively emerged, however, is the general public’s hatred of hipsters.

I am not a hipster expert, but as previously mentioned, I live in Portland, which, along with San Francisco, has been labeled by many the “Hipster Capital of the World.” And really, because Portland is so cheap, we certainly are more entitled to the crown; if anything, hipsters are not known for their bulging wallets (or are they?).

According to Urban Dictionary, there are some widely accepted generalizations. Hipsters…

• “…should be anemically skinny to let people know that they are poor and can’t afford enough food.”
• “…have A dislike for everything corporate. So while they may never want to buy anything from Starbucks, The Gap, or Pottery Barn, they will have no problem working for them since they always seem to be flat broke and complain about having financial problems, even though they have a BA paid for by mom and dad.”
• “…are probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Style section of The New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents money and spends a great deal of it to look like they don’t have any…Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Kamel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine… Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies.”

Clearly, an obsession with indie music and a hatred of the corporate world are common themes in these definitions. Living frugally and maintaining an unkempt-but-vintage appearance must also be included. But less obviously, I think a healthy dose of irony comes standard. In my opinion, all other “necessary” definitions are incidental.

Personally, I think it’s silly to wear grungy clothes from day to day, but I also see merit in a person’s pursuit to experience a life outside of one’s natural inheritance. I think it’s frivolous to spend your time making art that no one will see [writers in glass houses… -Ed.], but I understand the notion that expressing oneself is of primary importance.

In my day, I’ve known exactly two genuine hipsters. For those individuals, it was as if being a hipster couldn’t come more naturally.

The first created some of the most disgusting art imaginable. Being seen without her Elvis sunglasses was not an option. She rode her bike so frequently that she felt ridiculous in a car. Everything she owned was homemade, from her purse with a flask sewn into it to her overly elaborate Halloween costumes.

The second hipster wore the same ratty ‘80s Gucci shirt every single day. He was arrested frequently for graffiti art. He never drank or did drugs, but smoked like a chimney. He hated all music except for hyphy.

Both of them were obsessed with MySpace, though the rest of the internet remained a complete mystery.

Such genuine hipsters are rare. It’s not a phase for these people, nor is it a subculture that they are attempting to be a part of. Rather, it’s as if the whole of the subculture is trying to be like them. They didn’t have to be taught to shop at thrift stores, it was only too natural. And that whole “work at a shitty part-time job” phase isn’t rife with self-doubt and low self-esteem; they own that shitty job (that is, until their big artistic break comes).

And perhaps the inherent irony of the definition isn’t exclusive to hipsters. All we really have is irony. We feel helpless against the all-too-powerful government. The press lies to us, and the press that does speak our language is ignored or scoffed at. Protesting means rubber bullets; bike-riding equals death. The hipsters didn’t create irony, they just live in it. The rest of us do too; we’re just not as pigeonholed.