The New Hipsters are “looking for an authentic experience.” They LOVE “authenticity.” They love to collect stuff, the older the better. Victorian, Edwardian, even old Americana will do. They love Amish shit, as you can imagine. It’s not only authentic, it’s “honest.”
The first time I happened upon a person called Hollister Hovey, I was severely traumatized. (See her living room, above.) I couldn’t even pull myself together to rant about her. It’s not PC to complain about Hollister Hovey, whose very name is intolerable. You have to gush about how chic and wonderful she is, with her eccentric collections of old leather hunting helmets, battered old luggage, vintage military crap, hatboxes, and most annoying, her taxidermy.
Taxidermy is officially kitsch, thanks to Hollister. What used to be creepy and morbidly fascinating is just crap now. There’s probably no hipster apartment anywhere that lacks a mounted animal head or at least some antlers.
Some Hipster in Brooklyn named Sean Crowley collects English and French umbrellas from the 30s and 40s. His apartment is filled with old heraldic devices and Edwardian portraits. He really needs to learn from Hollister though, since he hasn’t managed to fill every inch of his dwelling with pretentious clutter.
Old medical crap is essential to any Hipster’s very being. Vintage anatomical posters, old dental equipment, a Hipster would kill its own grandmother to get at her vintage dentures.
I remember that someone came up with the term Bobos (short for Bourgeois Bohemians) to depict a certain brand of Hipster. The New Hipster is different, in that instead of bragging about their Prius they brag about their stuffed flamingo.
If you can’t learn to hate them, I might have to offer a course in Remedial Hatred. I have to master the video thing first, though.