On an excursion to downtown L.A., we came across this hipster outside a coffee house, reading Nausea.

It was like seeing a panda in its own habitat, only better.  I know it looks posed, but I swear to god he is real!

Downtown Los Angeles has a burgeoning ‘arts district’, i.e. a run-down industrial neighborhood crammed with organic cafes and tiny shops selling vintage Americana. Young people wander around looking drab and gender-challenged. There’s a lot of third-wave coffee and it is delicious.

While admiring my photo of the hipster this evening, I realized that it might be more accurate to call him a millennial.

I think there’s a real difference but I’m still working it out.

Hipsters like to have fun, for one thing, but millennials are sourpusses.

Millennials don’t want to acquire furniture or children, and they all work in tech or spend all their time on Instagram.

They are married to their iPhones and Androids and they seem to enjoy irony without actually having a sense of humor. They reject traditional politics but they hate Israel.

According to one pundit, they have ruined 47 institutions and industries. They don’t use napkins or eat cereal.

God, who needs them, right?

Reading an essay about  them tonight, I had to learn a new word: Precarity.

Precarity is a precarious existence, lacking in predictability, job security, material or psychological welfare. The social class defined by this condition has been termed the precariat.

Apparently, we should think of millennials as a generation forced to live pared-down lives, victims of the broken economy rather than brats who disdain their parents’ furniture.

And likewise, they’ve been given a bad rap by “self-hating Boomers.”

Hahahaha!

At least millennials have crated an awful new jargon full of terms like ‘toxic-masculinity’ and ‘virtue-signalling’. If they keep up the word-coinage, I may learn to like them!

Or at least forgive them.

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To paraphrase a quote misattributed to Mark Twain,  Rumors of the death of the hipster are greatly exaggerated.

How many times have you come across a snide appraisal of hipsters, whatever iteration hipster is current at the time, with the conclusion that the species has hit rock bottom. Hipsters are so over, just look at them.

The last time I read something like that, hipsters were kind of effete and emo, remember them? And they had to drink Pabst Blue Ribbon for some reason.

Chris Sanderson, a trend forcaster, explains:“The hipster died the minute we called him a hipster. The word no longer had the same meaning.” Oh please, Chris, as if.  Then there was  a report last month from researchers at the University of New South Wales who discovered that the hipster look was no longer “hip.”

I’m down with Chris’s notion that there are now two types of hipster: “Contemporary hipsters – the ones with the beards we love to hate – and proto-hipsters, the real deal.” So, okay, the Real Deal means ‘us’ and the faux hipsters are ‘them’. That’s cool with me, I guess.

Hipsters were once people who rejected societal norms. White people who liked black jazz, people who read William Burroughs or Iceberg Slim. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t about a uniform that signaled you were cool and in-the-know.

I still like the definition of a hipster as someone who was into whatever you’re into, 5 years ago. He has moved on and you will never keep up with him. I can reliably turn to my Nephew Russell, who was riding a fixed bike years ago. He is too hip for Facebook, not to mention Twitter. Whatever browser he uses for the internet, you’ve never heard of it. Whatever coffee you drink, he knows a place to get better coffee and it’s not a chain, either. It’s a given that he despises hipsters.

This Sanderson guy, the hipster expert, predicts an ‘overhaul’ in hipsters as we now know them  He predicts “A more macho look, almost to the point of caricature, in a bid for men to reinforce their identity.”

Uh-oh, he’d better be wrong about this. The hipsters I’m seeing (whether proto, meta or crypto) are already bearded and scruffy enough to be woodsman and ax-murderers. Will they adopt an even more primitive look, like early cro-magnons? Whatever the next wave turns out to be, I’m confidant that the hipster will be here til the end, a survivor, like the mighty cockroach. Just more annoying.

I can’t tell you how many times I have seen this picture and thought, “Who the fuck is this guy and why is he everywhere?” I have just now inadvertently  discovered his identity: Francois Verkerk, a model.

I was pretty sure that he was a vintage guy but now I know he’s contemporary, I don’t know what to think. I think I hate him. What an ass.

On the other hand…. I do like a dandy when he has the goods to pull it off. But no, no. I want to kill him.

What’s your take?

Why would a bloody nose help to sell Givenchy menswear, one might ask oneself upon seeing the above photo from a fashion editorial. The answer is the same one that explains the popularity of nosebleeds on tumblr.   Just don’t expect me to know it.

I can’t tell you the number of bloody noses I’ve seen on tumblr, along with the bloody lips and bruised knees. Obviously, part of the appeal is simply the transgressive nature of these  images. They’re  icky and/or disturbing, therefore popular with the hipsterati.

But is something else going on? Is it a Vampire thing?   I personally associate nosebleeds with children. Is it a pedophile thing?

To find a bloody nose attractive is to  never  have been a parent. Both of my kids were afflicted with routine nosebleeds, usually accompanied by shouts of “By doze is bleeding! Help!” I never had enough tissue if we were away from home.

Once, my youngest got a nosebleed in a jewelry shop and the blood gushed out over everything. The owner tried to help. Other  people  entered the shop and quickly left,  horrified  by the blood spattered scene. I’ll never forget the immensity of that nose bleed.

Another time, my mom was with me and the concern on her face triggered my own fear that my kid would bleed to death. I think we referred to that one later as The Great Nosebleed of April Something.

When Max was around ten, I asked him what subject he would choose if he could make a short film. He thought for a couple of seconds and said firmly: “A bloody nose.” I remember asking, You mean, the whole thing would be just a nosebleed? He said Yep, with an early hint of the perversity to come.

There is nothing good about a bloody nose. They used to tell you to tilt the head back but now we know this is wrong. You can use ice, you can pack the nose with tissue, you can pinch the bridge of the nose, but it will just keep on bleeding until it’s ready to stop.

But maybe I’m behind the times. Maybe nothing says Givenchy like a bloody nose.

Even though he’s the Hipster du Jour, I can’t stand looking at Zombie Boy. Now that I see what he’d look like without his tattoos, I find him even more tragic.

He’s actually a cute guy! And he fucked himself all up.

If you think he’s a work of art, don’t fly off the handle: I’m reacting as a mother.

In any case, it’s a great marketing gimmick for Dermablend.

What’s your preference. Before or After?

~

*Update:   Here is the best possible version of Zombie Boy,   from a helpful reader, Danielle.   Now he needs to go away and leave us alone. I apologize for bringing him up in the first place.

Today we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art to see an exhibit of graffiti and street art. Little did I know it was The Place to Be, with a long line of hipsters waiting to get inside the museum.   My husband and I thought “Fuck this” and decided to leave , just as we saw my adopted son Chris and his girlfriend Ada walking toward us.

It was wonderful to realize that we crypto-hipsters all gravitate to the same places. Ada became a museum member to help us avoid the long line for non-members.   The guy who helped her had 14 piercings in his face.

The exhibit was crawling with people who could each qualify as a piece of graffiti art. The was no air inside, where the temperature hovered near boiling point. Everyone was madly taking pictures of the art and each other. You had to dodge the  iPhone  flashes as you tried to avoid screwing up someone’s photo op.

I complained to my husband in a non-stop whine, but he’s learned to live with this. I objected aloud to a wall of Shepard Fairy crap, noting “Shepard Fairey is a fucking punk!” and thereby quoting my own self. I loved the cars and some black and white photos of Chicano homies. But most of it seemed boring and outdated, like break-dancing only less dimensional. Shuffling along the narrow passages between makeshift rooms, I felt like a character in “Hi, Mom.”

I wondered what would happen if someone broke out a can of spray pain and graffiti’d the graffiti.

Out in the street, an even longer line of hipters stood sweltering. I said to my husband: Haha, look at them. We walked to a Yogurtland, where a pretty girl sitting next to me blabbed about her reality show and insisted to her morbidly obese friend that what she really wanted to do was “make art.”

Here is a photo posted on a popular style blog today. The others in the series were NSFW. The handful of comments were enthusiastic.

A light finally went on in my head.

It’s the fucking decadence that I hate! Not really hipsters in general so much as the ones promoting decadence.

Nipple rings,   blurred sexuality, tattooes, shaved heads, pseudo bondage, jaded topless girls with cigarettes, Gareth Pugh this and Gareth Pugh that, it’s all so tragic and played out.   There’s just nowhere to go with this shit.

I’m aware that young people must shock their elders. But it seems like too many people aren’t growing out of it. I don’t want to call out bloggers because it’s not their fault. They’re just deluded. The images they’re purveying have been around in some form for centuries, but now it’s so joyless and commercialized. Just take it away.

I’ve been scrolling through paintings of angels and religious allegories for hours, trying to elevate my soul through beauty and sincerity but it’s hard to find a strong enough antidote to the sadness of everything tonight.

Just to keep hipsters in the loop, though, please enjoy this:

Today I realized that I need Gnarlitude to live.

Nothing worked to shake off my lethargy and depression until I clicked on her blog.

“Uh, seriously, with my black motorcycle boots this would just be beyond fucking hot. Lanvin S/S”

“JLP is such a great photographer and really nails these motoshoots. An older friend of mine has been wearing the Harley hat below since he was a teen and that shit is vintage now, it made me smile to spot it in this shoot.”

YES! OF COURSE your friend has been wearing that “Harley hat” long before anyone else! Duh! I love you, never stop!

I don’t know what works for you, but when I’m depressed, my escape route is usually indignant rage or in this case, perverse humor. Hipsters parading their hipness isn’t always funny, but Gnarlitude raises the bar to beyond parody.

Let’s create the ultimate Hipster and get it over with. I’ll begin, and when I run out of ingredients, you can throw in the rest:

Bukowski, Iggy, The Misfits, vintage motorcycles, opiates, Max’s Kansas City, CBGB’s, Velvet Underground, leather, denim, taxidermy, skulls, spikes, swastikas, Patti Smith, Chuck Palahniak, old band t-shirts, skateboards, cigarettes, dope paraphernalia, bad poetry, Nick Cave, Converse, cowboy boots, stupid hats, Godard, Hells Angels, serial killers, Death Metal, tattoos, vintage guitars…

Thanks to finding this video here, I now know there’s a word for everything I hate online (because I am largely protected from it in real life.)   DICKHEADS!

Everywhere you go,   these Dickheads are there, ruining everything.

I admit that my definition for Clueless Goth Style was pretty unintelligible.   But Enna, above, has put together a great look: It’s kind of Blogger-Hooker crossed with Hipster Underage Granny. She knows that it’s mandatory to rock a fur thing and a Dope Dealer hat.

Here is Redhead Fashionista rocking a (subconscious?) tribute to Sea, with striking black lipstick and a bumble bee themed outfit, and bringing a saucy tough-girl vibe to the Goth Lolita thing. Isn’t she gorgeous and clueless?

HelOnWheels looks tragically Goth and clueless in this old school tartan bondage dress and stupid hippie ankh.   The excessive rings and pretentious hat are perfection!

Lois-Elizabeth take Clueless over the edge into Mental. The Goth Hooker dress with white accents is begging for attention, and the pigeon-toed stance pulls it all together.

Angelica really nails it with the shredded leggings and headband. The lace-up boots are bang on trend, and the heavy showgirl make up is perfect for making a strong first impression.

Athif knows how to rock fur, doesn’t he? The thing around his neck looks like it was only recently running around someone’s garden, while the fluffy footwear says Chanel knock-off.   Ripped leg-wear and scary jewelry show that Athif has done his fashion homework!

WOW, Marie is a genius. Here, she looks   sexily disheveled as though apres lovemaking (or pony-play?) in a barn. Let’s take another look.

This outfit is dripping with style, beginning with that fabulous cape. The lace, the chains, the hat, the attitude, Marie is a vision of loveliness in her Military Madonna outfit. WordPress is too stupid to let me post the full size pictures of Marie, but I’ll be happy to send them to you in email if you ask nicely.

I was thinking about attempting my own Clueless Goth look but I just can’t get dressed today due to extreme lethargy, depression, and antibiotics.   Thank you, Marie, Enna, Angelica, Lois-Elizabeth, Athif, HelOnWheels, and Redhead Fashionista for your team spirit and for sharing your creativity! xoxoxo