We’ve been pretty much inundated with the onslaught of hipsterism over the last couple of years. We’ve watched them play kickball, work out in ironic 1980’s leotards and headbands, we’ve heard all about the rad and awesome indie bands they like, including movie soundtracks, and anything with a synthesizer, or sounds much like a whale birthing a billy goat! There have been mustaches, beards, glasses, knit hats, micro brews, gluten-free air molecules, skinny neckties, dirgy hats, smokes under an underpass, making their own movies, everyone seen here, and whatever else the species hipster enchants with his magic levels of angst, sporadic euphoria, and tremulous derision of things that indicate The Man exists.
So what happens when the hipster ages out, or gets evicted(?), banned(?) or excommunicated? Where do they go and what do they do, and more importantly, what are they called?
Granted, the existence of the hipster has been met with some criticism. (Trigger alert: Way snarky)
Dov Charney, weird sex-troll and skeevy brand-identified sock puppet, named hipsterdom over in a report to Bloomberg News when he was hoping to swap out his cache of stirrup leggings and ironic scrunchies as founder and chief executive officer of American Apparel for “preppy, more sophisticated garments such as blazers, pleated pants, button-down shirts, and more formal lace tops.” Even Charney saw the benefits of aging along with his consumers, the Millennials, or the Echo-Boomers born between 1982 and 1995.
“Hipsters are from a certain time period,” he said. “The stereotype of a hipster is not something people aspire to anymore. Do you want to be a hipster? Nobody wants to be a hipster,” said Charney.
Not true. White House press secretary Jay Carney wanted to be a hipster, sort of. He started wearing square-rimmed, big-lensed, chunky-framed glasses around the White House to the finger-pointing and labeling of “Hipster!” like Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He backpedaled and said, “Really? I thought they were sort of retro-nerdy.” Boo! You were trying to be a hipster, dude. However, two weeks later they were gone, but not forgotten. You see, once some stodgy government official starts wearing trendy glasses that instantly means that such fare is now over, as in wack, as in your dad now wearing hipster glasses.
However, despite Dov’s thoughts on the matter, or Jay Carney’s yearn for an ironic beard and Hummus, the question remains, and mostly unanswered, is hipsterism a fad, a trend, something to be outgrown and evolved, or is it a way of life, some sort of new wave sense of consciousness that is more life than lifestyle? If the latter is the case, than age won’t really affect the evolution of the hipster. Would they then become full fledged hippies in the traditional sense? Many of us grew up with what would be considered hippie parents, right? We know them well.
You had your full-on hippie parents who lived in a commune of some sort, or far off the radar, and then there were/are some who embrace some of the traditional sensibilities i.e. priding themselves on holistic living, organic, homegrown foods, who don’t put much stock in mass-marketed, corporate structures, and pretty much eschew their peer’s zeal for the rigid, shoe box life of conformity, and instead gravitate toward the arts, philosophy, psychology, and the study of humanity, but who do not feel the need to “go off the grid” so to speak.
Does the retired hipster fall in this group, or are they a hybrid — meaning a mix of the vintage hippie — and the modern non-conformist? What things stick and what things fall by the wayside? Music and art, these are things many of us would probably say never truly leave you. If you’re someone who likes both, especially in an eclectic sense, you’ll probably always love the non-traditional, and the experimental, as well as have room for the classic, but the mind, you see, will always be open. Enjoying an organic, homegrown food(ie) lifestyle, again will probably not just dissipate one day upon viewing the magnanimous visage of McDonalds’ golden arches. BUT we can all hope that the love of PBR will evolve, because just pleeeww, PBR is the worst, guy. Go drink a Heineken or something. However, some things will most likely change. Won’t they? Can you imagine a sixty year-old wearing a scarf, Rasta hat, while on a skateboard, rocking skinny jeans and a bowtie? Maybe you can! Perhaps! It’s sort of like asking what a future gamer will look like? Can you imagine being seventy-five and still playing Mortal Kombat? (I maintain that I will still be undefeatable at Mortal Kombat in the year 2050 or thereabouts.)
Skateboarding former hipsters could be an option, or do you morph into Hip-mommies and Hip-daddies and become, yikes, some sort of UrbanBaby automaton, that moves from discussing #realworldissues to talking about nannies, loft space, million dollar homes and gold encrusted baby bottles or whatever? E-gads! Is this where the hipster goes to die? Yes, yes, there are probably more than a few hipster graves buried at the feet of the Hip-parent, who if their kid were to come to them later in life wearing, who knows, a mustache on their year 2020 spaceman helmet while living on the moon, given Newt’s plans for our future, they’d most likely shriek with fear, snatch that mustache off, and put that kid on the first plane (spaceship) to Harvard (space Harvard).
The thing is though, hipster, my friend, each year you have a new birthday. You’re getting one year older. Where do you go from here? What is the next wave to come? And if you guys don’t become extinct when it gets here, what should we call you from here on out?
- Past + Hipster = Pipster
- Former + Hipster = Foster
- Hipster + Over = Hova
- ‘Fin’ + Hipster = Fister
The last hoorah…it may be coming soon!
If you think of any great new names, tell us in the comments.
