Hipster twilight zone

Shudder:

I was in a room stockpiled with hipster prototypes. While occasionally someone could consider me a hipster based on the geographical location of my apartment, my musical tastes, and my tendency to call myself a fine artist without ever actually physically making any art in years, I felt like an outsider in this crowd: Mullets, mustaches, giant ugly glasses, and guys in short shorts were everywhere. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t wearing a fanny pack, or any other ironic style of clothing, but I was barely cool enough to be hanging out in Bushwick at Ridgewood Masonic Temple. It was a Todd P show, in Brooklyn, so I had to expect the onslaught of irony, but I don’t think I had ever witnessed such an overwhelming exhibition of hipster culture over the years that I’ve covered the music scene.

So ironic! (Shudder)