5 Hipsters We Love To Hate: A Guide to L.A.'s Sub-Species
Photo by joestump via Flickr
Last month, Public Policy Polling data confirmed what so many of us have already suspected: America hates hipsters. And it's not just that the majority of us loathe the ironic masses -- it's that our loathing makes us positively gleeful. Hipster hatred isn't just a hobby these days; it's a badge of honor.
Nowhere is that more true of Los Angeles, where we're crawling not only with hipsters, but with some particularly annoying sub-species. Here's our list of the five categories of hipsters we especially love to hate.
The Drug-Glorifying Vice Hipster
It's 4 a.m. at a party in Echo Park, and slumped up against the wall in a seated fetal is a wistfully skinny girl, her clothing askew, her knees bent into her chest a la Fiona Apple circa "Criminal."
By this time of the night, her eyeliner is smudged three inches below her bottom lash line; her hair, artfully mussed with sweat, saliva and traces of beer.
But make no mistake about it: This drunken K-hole of a moment is where the magic happens. After all, this is the moment in which, if only Terry Richardson were present, he would find the filtered beauty in her manic pain. It's the moment whence, if she were writing a Vice column (and she might well be), her most profound, Thompson-esque insights would be gleaned.
It is, in short, the moment the drugs have taken hold.
It's this hipster's insistence upon the importance of her chemically-fueled angst that makes her such an easy target for the haters. Because while the rest of the city is out there doing drugs behind closed doors like normal people, she would like the world to know that her high is special, unique...significant.
Photo by Timothy Norris
The Trendy Coachella Hipster
When Coachella hit Indio back in April, the sands parted and made way for hordes of people to spend three days frolicking about the desert high as kites and making out with trees.
Dressed in jorts, headbands, and doily dresses, the trendy Coachella hipster would have you believe that she's as carefree as her attire suggests. But the truth is that nothing -- but nothing -- about this hipster is carefree. Indeed: Shopping trips are made especially for the festival. Jorts are measured and cut to within inches of their lives. Upwards of $500 may well be dropped simply to appear as though Urban Outfitters projectile-vomited in his or her general direction.
On top of that, many in this particular breed of hipster don't even know the bands they've allegedly come to see -- or, worst of all, they may be so intent on seeming on top of the coolest, most obscure music, they pretend to like bands that don't actually exist (thank you, Jimmy Kimmel).
The trendy Coachella hipster is, then, an unfortunate example of a bandwagon hipster, complete with a desert-sun spotlight.
Turn the page for a breed of hipster that hates you more than you hate them.