Black square framed glasses. Pabst Blue Ribbon. American
Spirit cigarettes. Samantha Wyman. One of
these things is not like the other. And you probably guessed it. Me. Well,
allow me to correct you, my friends, because I definitely fit in to that mix. Or
I did. For one week anyways. Bored of our mainstream
lives, and living in Los Angeles with ample inspiration, my friends and I
embarked upon a weeklong hipster journey. And what’s more hipster than blogging
about being hipster? Nothing. So allow me to elaborate.
Beginning with a simple pair of black, square framed glasses
my mom had sent me as a joke after I began blogging,
our hipster week instantly took flight. Wearing a pair of purple skinny
jeans, black lace up vans, a totally retro old
school vans crewneck sweatshirt I had received for Christmas, the infamous
black glasses and my hair in a high bun, I joined Jaclyn, who was styled in
pink high waisted shorts, a crocheted top, fringed boots with headbands and
feathers galore. We began our day at coffee bean – I know, so mainstream – but
at least we walked there, so we deserve some hipster street cred, right?
Probably not. But it was our first day. And we definitely looked the part,
which is really all that matters anyways. After we brushed up on some hipster
lingo and perfected our we tried so hard
to not look like we tried at all attitude, we headed to BevMo to pick up a
few bottles of wine. That we definitely carried out in brown bags. Our labels
of choice – Twisted and Irony. Because it’s ironically twisted.
Obviously.
Day two we were really hitting our stride. Jaclyn sporting
the typical, smart hipster get up in glasses and a loose beanie hanging off the
back of her head, I opted for the grungy Kirk Cobain inspired hipster in a
floor length black maxi dress, oversized raglan, jean jacket and fringe boots.
We met for latte’s at Urth Café in Venice on Main Street, which is ironic
because Urth is totes becoming mainstream
- I told you we worked on the
lingo - where we were joined by our hipster boyfriend who showed us the ropes.
But unlike us, hipster was his way of life, not a week long adventure. Wearing
an actual vintage t-shirt with authentic rips and tears, we headed into
our hipster haven – American Apparel. Lured in by the “Buy 2 of the same shirt
and get the 3rd free” sign in the window, it was perfect for our
trio. Until we realized who wants to wear the same shirt as two other people?
Obviously, hipsters are all about originality and individuality. So we headed
somewhere more unique, like Urban Outfitters.
Like any Wednesday, day three we hit a slump. Getting bored
of our typical scene, we took our 1967 Subaru hatchback as far as it could make
it to The Curious Palette, an entirely organic, farm fresh, and local hipster
haunt. Obviously. Doing my best hippie hipster, I paired my wide leg bell
bottoms with a lace leotard and pancho, with plenty of bangles, beads and
headbands to go around. Jaclyn revamped her pink shorts with a mesh black
cutout tank and fur booties with her hair in a high bun. We chilled on the
sidewalk, hung out on fire hydrants and parked cars, and drank soy lattes.
Traveling up the street for libations and live music, we met our nonhipster
friends in Venice. Our angst reached an all time high when the bar didn’t have
PBR on tap so we settled for Stella, which totes is the alternative of choice
for Los Angeles hipsters because it’s, like, not mainstream but, like, ironically
totally trendy and over priced, which is basically our mantra.
Thursday was like out of a dream. Or a movie. Let’s go with
an indie film that never came to theaters, but got super fantastic reviews at
Sundance. You probably haven’t seen it, but you most likely have the
soundtrack. I’m guessing it’d be loaded with Death Cab, Black Keys and Sleigh
Bells. But obvs the title track is something Passion Pit or Mumford and Sons –
who were way cooler before they were so accessible and all over the radio. Ok,
so now that you can see how epically hipster
Thursday was, I’ll tell you about it. With our hipster posse growing, we headed
to Silverlake. Yes, Silverlake. The hipster capital of Los Angeles, and maybe even
the world. Grabbing our usual lattes at The Coffee Table, we hung outside at
mosaic tables with buddah fountains contemplating life, fair trade produce,
famers markets, next years’ possible Coachella lineup, and the origins of all of our entirely unique and authentic bangles. So incredibly peanut butter and jealous of the braided bracelet given to Jaclyn by a homeless man, made from the hairs of his beard, and bewitched by the tarot card reader on the promenade. Her dad's lucky neon pink wristband he used to wear when he played beach volleyball in the early 80's. And the silver beads representing every tear she's shed thinking about our beautiful friendship, strung together by the strands of a unicorn tail. Obviously Karissa never leaves the house without her golden monkey bangle that was blessed by monks while she was backpacking through Tibet, her chain of PBR pop tops from every can of beer she drank in 2010, or the American Apparel bow tie she ironically ties around her wrist instead of her neck. After covering all
the bases, we got down to business. Stopping at the neighborhood 7-11, we
grabbed the essentials – tall cans of PBR and American Spirits. Loading them
into our fringed bags, we headed to Echo Park where we drank, smoke – not
really mom – and contemplated life, fair trade produce, farmers markets and
next years’ possible Coachella line up – seriously though, splitting it in to
two weekends? I don’t think so. All while attempting not to get shot, shanked,
or mixed up in a drug deal. Mission successful on all accounts.
After a sunrise yoga practice on Friday morning, we ended
our weeklong road trip through hipsterville with a pool party at the Shangri la
in Santa Monica. Rocking headscarves, bikinis and bangles, and drinking blended
ciapirinhas - which are uber exotic, right? - poolside, the day was
pure perfection. As the sun set, we moved our growing crew to my house for
tapas and red wine sangria prior to playing around in Venice at The Other Room,
a spot that only serves beer and wine, which is like, not mainstream, but
ironically totally trendy and over priced – our mantra, remember? Wearing neon
banded skirts, studded combat boots, red lipstick and cut off t-shirts (mine
said nonviolent with a picture of a
gun – totes ironic, right?) we were bored and full of angst every time our
efforts at requesting Mumford and Sons was scoffed by the DJ. Too cool for the
scene, we eventually rallied our crew for the after party, celebrating our
successful soirée.
Once our nonhipster friends could no longer tolerate us, we
returned back to our normal, everyday lives full of Hollywood drama, bad reality
television and processed foods. But not before capturing and documenting every
moment with the iPhone instagram application – which is basically the most
essential aspect of hipster life and our generation’s pathetic version of the
Polaroid, instantly giving all of our photos an authentically vintage feel. And when it comes to life
as a hipster, vintage is crucial, which is exactly why my Gap jean jacket circa
2005 was so key. Six years is vintage enough, right? I mean, its either that,
or the over priced Kain t-shirt with holes precut to give the illusion of
vintage that you actually purchased at Madison in Malibu last weekend, or the
pair of Levi’s vintage revival high
waisted jean shorts you found at Urban Outfitters on the promenade. I’ll go
with old clothes from high school.
Ok, but really, why did they split Coachella in to two? And
who do you think will headline? Ugh, I get worked up just thinking about it.
Whoever it is, can I get a ride? I don’t think my ’67 hatchback with make it
all the way to the desert this time around. Ok, I’m gunna go protest something
somewhere, get mad about someone wearing the same American Apparel t-shirt as I
am, and hang outside on the sidewalk with my friends while we take totally
candid photos of each other in deep thought. I need a latte already. God, why isn’t
there a Ritual Coffee in Venice?
Later.
