Written by Harrison Levitan and Clara Mora
The only person you have to blame is yourself. You could have gone to a state school; you could have gone to a college that isn’t within driving distance of American Apparel. But you didn’t, you chose to go to GW and live in Washington DC so get used to us hipsters because we’re here to stay.
Let me introduce myself, I’m the GW hipster. I listen to bands so obscure that they might as well only exist in my mind and on my iPod. And I have one of those old iPods, the kind where the spin wheel actually spins. It doesn’t work in cold weather but nothing beats that vintage sound. You could blindfold me and I’d still find my way to the Black Cat. I can taste the difference between a fair trade blend and an iniquitous trade blend. Oh and I use the word ‘iniquitous’ instead of ‘evil’ even though it’s a bitch to spell. I feel personally responsible for maintaining a steady smoke cloud in front of Gelman. I’m a true hipster, a lone wolf. Hanging out with other hipsters only increases the chance that my checkered fedora isn’t an instant hit. I’ll still listen to bands when they become popular but that doesn’t mean anyone has to know. I’ve read enough about inhumane treatment of animals to be a canvasser for PETA but I still go to Burger, Tap, and Shake weekly. My jeans are so skinny they look emaciated. The doctor says its cutting off my circulation but I can’t stop wearing them. What would people think if I didn’t?
You don’t have to like me or embrace my lifestyle. Feel free to cough obnoxiously at my ever presence in front of your dorm, cigarette smoke abloom. Just understand, you have your Vineyard Vines croakies and I have my fake glasses. You want to look like Bradley Cooper in Wedding Crashers and I want to look like Diane Keaton in Annie Hall. Can’t we all just get along?