Hypothesizing Hipsterdom

I was sitting here tonight watching the ten billionth episode of House Hunters, and I thought to myself, "I should write something!" These two things are naturally connected, clearly.

House Hunters got me thinking about Hipsters. Perhaps it's the alliteration of it all, or perhaps the home buyers reminded me a hipster's mother, but either way, I set to musing.

It seems to me that everyone's a hipster these days, which begs the question the rest of us non-iY generationers wonder: if everyone's different, then everyone's the same, right? If everyone's special, then nobody's special?

Being hipster, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept, involves a rather snobbish enjoyment of "the other." Clothing that's not mainstream, music that's not mainstream, writings that aren't mainstream...you see where I'm going here?

Non-hipsters, in my experience, tend to be rather hostile toward hipsters. It's rather amusing. I saw myself outside of all of this nonsense, since I'm 32 and refined. But when a student mentioned that someone had labeled ME a hipster, I just about choked. Me? A hipster? I think I'm more inclined to agree with my husband's definition of me: a frumpsters (Rob, my husband, will likely be featured in my writings--I will directly quote him, but you'll miss his mischievous looks and you will therefore be forced to view him as shocking! Outlandish! Downright foolish! He's actually wonderful, hilarious and endearing, but let's not get too caught up in that; let us focus on his outlandishness). Where was I? Oh yes. Frumpsters.

I'm not the most fashionable of people. I know this. 99% of the time this doesn't even cross my mind as something worth worrying about, except when Rob mentions that I look like Mrs. Garret from Facts of Life, or the Gorn from Star Trek (google it). It is in those moments that I remember my lack of sartorial sense. Eh. And life moves on to more important things, like cats. If this is considered unmainstream, perhaps I AM a hipster? After all, I wore skinny-leg jeans when they were just called "tapered," neon clothing when it was called "the 80s," and I  still secretly long to regularly wear the sweaters I once purchased for an ugly christmas sweater party. They're so comfortable! I see these clothing items paraded around in my classroom, in magazine and on TV, only the people wearing them somehow seem "cool," whereas I just look sweaty. THAT'S hipster. So maybe there is something to my student's proclamation after all...

Speaking of cats, I love them. I loved them before it was "cool" to do so (wait--it became "cool" to like cats because it was decidedly "uncool" to like cats, so is it now hipster to like cats or mainstream? Who can remember all of these arbitrary rules!?). As I was saying. I love cats. I have one currently curled up in my lap--Archimedes. And I'm dying to adopt another (Rob would like to name him Steve--I prefer Copernicus). But at the moment, no more cats for us. My friend Julia is trying to find a home for her kitty bobby (so named due to her missing tail and subsequent "bob" of a tail). She is a sweet, sweet kitty, and seeing her tonight launched me into a panicked call first to my husband and then to my parents. I begged to keep her. Rob said no. Then I attempted to coerce my parents into taking her. They said no. So I called Julia and begged her not to put Bobby in a shelter where she would no doubt become, at minimum, depressed, and at worst, dead. Most people snarl their upper lips at cats, claiming the superiority of dogs with a near, dare I say it, haughtiness. Let's get down to it people: they both lick their poopy butts. Neither is more refined.

So I love cats. I'd have a whole harem if I could. I can't do this because I'd either be A) Crazy or B) Smelly or C) both A and C or D) friendless, husbandless and barren. But I'd do it! And I'm admitting it. I think this makes me hipster.

Finally, I'm horrible with small children. If this isn't hipster, I don't know what is. I might get stoned for publicly confessing both my love of cats and my distaste for small children, but that's just the price of being cool. Small children immediately paralyze me. I see them and I know they won't like me. I think this is because of two things 1. I have no idea how to speak to a small child. Example (this is an actual conversation I had yesterday):

Small Child: Hi.

Me: Hi!

Small Child:.......

Me: So....how are you?! (I decided long ago that if I just sound excited about anything I say or ask, kids will eagerly respond). 

Small Child: Where's Uncle Rob?

Me: He's at the fire station, saving lives! Do you know the fire station!? What does Uncle Rob drive!!!?

Small Child:..........

Me: ............!

Small Child: Want to race cars?

Me: How?!

Small Child: We push them.

Me: How do we push them?! Which car is your favorite!? Did you play with cars on the beach!? What's this car's name?!!

Small Child:........Maybe Uncle Rob can play with me.


I think the problem is that kids require an imagination--whereas I require conversation (that's problem number 2). Kids don't really want to talk, they want to do. I want to talk ABOUT the doing. This is why I speak teenage, specifically teenage girl. Teenage girls (and actually quite a few boys as well) are all about talking. I haven't met a teenager yet that I don't instantly feel comfortable around. Nearly all of my friends and my husband feel that way about small children. But when I see someone under the age of 13 approaching, internal Rachel curls up into the fetal position and waits for the feeling of terror to pass. This MUST be hipster. How many people genuinely like teenage girls?  How many are genuinely uncomfortable around small children? So you see! I'm in the minority here, which makes me cool, which makes me hipster. Consider yourself educated.