I went to Collette today, which is an increda-expensive store that is so hipstery that it was a little too much for me. That curly haired devil Gaspard Auge sells his tee shirts there under the entirely too clever name Gasparator. So yeah, you can see what I mean. Anyway, I found out something very important, at home, I am a hipster. I admit it, it is true, whatever I live with it. Here I am just a straight up dork, which I think is what I always wanted to be anyway. There were people in that store that were so beyond me in terms of hipness that I was shamed at my humble skinny jeans and white high tops. Seriously, there was a group of guys that looked like they were in Kanye West's posse. Interestingly enough they were all wearing Phillies hats, and were talking in french. Turns out the Phillies are the hot new now, to borrow a phrase from Jens (at least I was ahead on that one). Also, they had no vinyl there. Seriously, I was all ready to go in an drop a shit-ton on electro vinyl, like SebastiAn for example, or finally finding that long lost Soulwax that I have been dying for, but there were only CDs. And they were things like A Cross the Universe and Part of the Weekend Never Dies, and Modeselektor-- things we have at home. They were also selling a tee shirt for 70 Euro of the cover of the Sonic Youth album Goo with out the words Sonic or Youth. I want to meet the creative genius that came up with that one.
On a different note, irony doesn't translate. Don't get me wrong, the french are about as sarcastic and cynical as they come, but they don't do irony the way we do. No ironic animal wear, no ironic band tee shirts, no ironic dancing to YMCA. The dancing to YMCA is sincere. So, good thing I didn't buy that Bret inspired squirrel sweater...
And that 's all I have to say about that.
1 comment:
This hipster loves Hannah. Un-ironically.
And maybe a little ironically, too, just for good measure.
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