Fashion I Effing Hate: Hipsters

I'm not really sure why there's so much vitriol pulsing from my very being today. I'm wearing one of my favoritest black sweaters (and my leopard print peep toes!), I had Mongolian BBQ for lunch, and I might possibly have it for supper, Mark Kotsay is coming off of the DL and it is Friday. Really, I should be quite happy. And that's not to say that I'm not. But, after scrolling through some Myspace pages I now feel that I could chew my way through 10 nails. Why?

HIPSTERS, THAT'S WHY.

I am going to make a blanket statement, however it is pretty damn on target: Every hipster should be punched in the face. Right now, you should be imagining the delightful crunch that those goddamn white plastic glasses will make when they all get simultaneously sucker punched. Delicious sound that would be. Yummy.

Anyway, I don't want to get sidetracked thinking about violence. It is not the answer, after all. My problem with hipsters, at least for the purpose of this blog, is their influence on the fashion world. You can see this everywhere: the "ironic" wearing of leggings, the trucker hat, friendship bracelets. It's just all so damn bad. And retailers everywhere took notice--Ann Taylor Loft, a suburban mom mainstay, started selling leggings and mini-skirts last fall (ick!), Target lined their walls with cheap replica "concert" tees. God, it's enough to make you throw up a little in your mouth.

But when you start considering the whole stores that cater to these folks--that makes you full on upchuck up your Mongolian BBQ. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Urban Outfitters. But I'm especially looking at my good friend, American Apparel. American Apparel is like hipster heaven. They. Sell. White. Leggings. Who would appreciate that but a bunch of unwashed kids who just spent the last five days applying eyeliner, drinking Pabst and cutting themselves? But their t-shirts fit me well, and they are cheap, so I have bought things from them via their online store. It's always a slightly scary experience, because I always happen to find myself on the unitard page, but I make it through ok.

But their real un-online stores? They make me both violent and violently ill. Just remembering it today forced me to write this post. See how touchy a subject this is for me?

Anyway, I went there to look at t-shirt dresses. Seems sane enough, huh? I get one, and I go to try it on. First off, all the people that work in there are (you guessed it) hipsters, so they are all staring at me because obviously I am from another planet given that I am not a size 2 and not currently smoking clove cigarettes. These people's parents must have been absolute tree stomps--wolves could raise a more sentient being than a hipster. Whatever. So I go to the dressing room, and it is a cement box. A cement box with pictures on the walls. And the pictures look like this:

All I could think of is "It puts the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again." Why are hipsters in love with making one feel as if they are about to get an icepick to the temple? Is the pain ironic? Does it go better if I drink a lot of Pabst? Did I mention that the lighting was bright and garish and made me look even paler and fatter? Holy sweet jesus. I threw the dress down on the floor and ran the hell out. Then I joined my family at Naan and Curry. I seriously felt like I had been let loose from a serial killer's lair.

So this is strange and disjointed, but here's the Cliff Notes--1) Hipsters make me sad. 2) They make me remember going to American Apparel. 3) The dressing rooms there are to be avoided at all costs. 4) I need a shower.