Better a Witty Fool than a Foolish Wit

Inner Workings of My Twisted Mind.


So I have a confession to make.  It’s not easy for me to say, and you might not be that shocked, but I, Julia Rose Callahan, am a hipster.  Yep.  That’s right.  I’m coming clean.  I’m a hipster.  I love irony, I wear old clothes, I own records and I listen to NPR.

The term hipster has been bandied about for quite a few years now, and I’ll admit, when I first heard it I had no clue what it meant.  So let me define, in case you’re out of the loop.  Basically, a hipster is a young person, usually in a large city, who wears skinny jeans, ironic t-shirts, and greasy hair.  Men often sport obnoxious mustaches and mullets, women often also sport a mullet-like hairstyle.  Women are often seen sporting old granny dresses and sweater sets.  Tattoos are also a big part of hipster style, usually the tattoos are ill-planned and somewhat ridiculous, but funny.  Hipsters also tend to be smart, artistic and politically savvy.  They read, they listen to NPR, they can’t get enough of indie rock (though they only like the bands that you and I are too unhip to know about yet), and they love movies that are so bad they’re good.  (If you are in the Bay Area, hipsters are almost anyone under the age of 30 living in San Francisco, especially in The Mission).

You see, not only do hipsters like irony, they also like being the first of their kind to do anything.  Thus, they will often move into semi-dangerous neighborhoods and start the gentrification process that seems to be sweeping almost every urban area in this country (with the exception of Detroit).  Hipsters were the ones moving to Oakland when it was still super dangerous, they moved in to Brooklyn and Downtown Los Angeles, while they were still considered the ghetto.

But Hipster has had a negative connotation ever since I first started hearing it (all the way back in 2004).  As I moved into Los Feliz, arguably the most hipster neighborhood in Los Angeles next to Silverlake, six months ago, I started thinking about this phenomenon of Hipsterness.  Was it really all bad?  I mean sure, there is a vain element to it that I would not consider myself a part of (though I do have numerous tattoos and wear obnoxious jewelry), but really, hipsters embody a kind of ethos that I can’t say I’m opposed to.  In fact, I’m all for it.

Coming from a generation where Beavis and Butthead reigned supreme, it’s acutally kind of astonishing that many of us now pride ourselves on the vast knowledge we are able to acquire.  Sure, it can be annoying when faced with someone who knows fucking everything, but isn’t it better than having to deal with Bill and Ted all the time?

Above all this though, hipsters are also in to helping the envirnoment, they ride bikes and take public transit.  They shop local.  Basically, hipsters are the new hippies (and usually they smell better).

So all this being said, I’m claiming my identity as a hipster.  I’m embracing the ridiculousness of having a set of lips tattooed on my left butt cheek.  I’m embracing the fact that I love the soft lisp of Ira Glass.  I’m embracing the fact that I think a man with an ironic handlebar mustache is sexy.  I’m declaring myself a hipster in all its greatness and all its ridiculousness because of all the ridiculous things to be in our modern world, I think hipsters are the least ridiculous.

Peace, Love, and Represent,


September 13, 2009 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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