I decided to do some soul searching and answer Blogtober question number 1: what is your biggest flaw?
Chilling at Brunswick street last night (I started writing this about a week and a half ago, so this would have been last Thursday plus one week), checking out some of the hipster/ indie/ tools in their natural habitat, I figured out one of my largest flaws. Despite lolling at some of these people, wrapped in fur despite the warmth, and sporting very similar fringes…
…I have this weird thing that while I don’t particularly want to be friend with these people, I want them to like me and want to be friends with me. Let’s get this straight- I don’t particularly want to be friends with THEM. Life is way too short not to spend all of your time with the people you truly enjoy the company of, and I currently have a fantastic group of friends that satisfy me, company wise. But I still have this weird desire… in the wise words of whoever wrote the song (Chris Isaac?), I want them to want me.
I could probably do it. Make friends with them, infiltrate their exclusive Indie club. My boyfriend already thinks I’m the height of indie… but the thing it, I’m not. I have the fashion and the fringe but not the attitude. I’m not too cool for school. I like school. I attend regularly.
I think it’s because I’m just too excited about shit. As this article on hipster culture states:
Hipsters… are defined far more by what they don’t like and what they don’t do. The less you care about anything, the cooler you are and therefore the more authority you have when passing judgement on others.
But I care about stuff and I’m too darn excited and I struggle sometimes with dressing myself and I think my breasts are probably a bit too large for me to pull off that androgynous look necessary to assimilate. And really, I don’t WANT to assimilate. I wouldn’t give up myself for anything in the world. The funny paradox is that these people detest conformity, yet they are defined by a fashion and a taste in music and all look and sound very similar. Good job on individuality, guys.
I love the craft-chic community that has sprung up on the interwebs as the focus is on community and inclusion and people liking each other and getting excited about the stuff they all produce rather than who can care less, or be the most exclusive. They are the hippest cats of all, because they care, and in the end they don’t give a damn what the lethargic indie kids think of them… They’re best mates with their grandmas who give them real vintage clothes that don’t cost more than a liver on the black market. Those guys I want to be friends with most of all.
But still, when I see an androgynous hipster strutting down the street, eyes averted or hidden behind large, tortoiseshell frames, I can’t seem to help it.
I want them to want me.
…. And yes I know that I went overboard with the Toothpaste for Dinner cartoons but I can’t help it, they’re just so funny!