Still-Triumphant Hipsters Go Shopping
Hey there, hipster! Looking for something special? Looking for something you won’t find at your local IKEA? In this day in age the harder something is to find, the more it’s coveted. The ascension of hipster chic, which doesn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon, has made a vintage store in every arts district standard operating procedure. Need something perfectly distressed, shiny with the patina of man-made age? Either head for the nearest arts district or crack open the online classifieds.
Need a Formica, antiqued coffee table in the shape of a painter’s palette? What about something more substantial, like a used Toyota? You can find that perfect bragging-rights piece that says you’re superior and super cool. In hipster-dense towns, like Los Angeles, it’s all about what design and decorative choices you make that will set you apart.
Rare pieces are not enough. It’s not enough to have a rare piece — you need a distressed piece that looks like six generations of immigrants used it to churn their butter or till their fields. It’s all about the accrued history of an object, Toyotas included. But what’s the big? What’s driving all this competitive desire for all things vintage? I thought this entire vintage retro was the driving factor for Gen X circa 1997.
Stepping over the body of the Gen X-er is the still-triumphant hipster. Now, it is not enough to have something special — you need something rare. Gone is the white belt, replaced by the faux distressed white crackle belt from some handcrafted boutique in Salem, Oregon. The hunger for “authentic” expression has been supplanted by an unquenchable thirst for a kind of fetishistic one-upmanship. Bigger, better, faster is now rarer, distressed, and handcrafted.
Enter the online classifieds. These sites, of which Craig’s List is still king of kings, have become tremendously popular because the vendor comes to the buyer. Why spend a weekend trolling through antique shops and breaking a sweat that might compromise the wax in your handlebar mustache? Irony demands perfection, after all.
Enjoy an Amish butter churn or a used Toyota circa 1987. Just remember to say super cool, my hipster friend.
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