You see, I fear I have an inner hipster.
I'm not sure how this happened, exactly, but I woke up recently and realized with shock that I enjoy and/or have encouraged some very hipster-like behavior in my daily life.
Exhibit A: I actually really think the hot pink Wayfarer-style sunglasses I got from Shutterfly are cute. (Blogher swag) They're fun in a kitschy sort of way, and isn't that what hipster-ocity is all about?
Exhibit B: If I was planning my wedding today, I'd totally have a photo booth complete with handlebar mustaches on sticks.
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| Sunglasses, 'stache, complicated haircut |
Exhibit D: Florence and the Machine.
Exhibit E: When we're camping, we drink cheap beer in cans. Specifically, the beer of choice is PBR. At home, it's microbrews and Guinness, but camping is PBR (And Natural Ice, to switch it up)
Exhibit F: When my hair is in need of a trim, it starts to get that overly-complex-hipster-haircut-with-random-varying-lengths look, and I'm OK enough with it that it buys me another week or so before I call my stylist.
Exhibit G: If I was going to take up a new musical instrument, it would totally be either the banjo or the theramin. Banjo for its ironic unhipness, theramin because it's so cool you've probably never heard of it.
Exhibit H: I don't have an exhibit H, except that hipster starts with it.
So. Is there hope for me, or am I destined to start wearing Delta Burke inspired shoulder pads and old-school Keds? Do you have some anti-hispter remedy I can try? I'm a desperate woman!
I'm joining Elaine over at The Miss Elaine-ous Life for her Miss Elaine-ous Monday! Click here to see more random posts people have linked up!
