I Could Be A Hipster. Except That I Might Not Be.
I just bought a pair of Chuck Taylors. They're the low top version (I can't stand things touching my ankles) and I haven't decided if they're ironic or not, or if this is the straw that breaks the camel's back and I am now, officially, a hipster.
Right. You have no idea what I'm talking about. Unless you do.
I don't think I can explain myself any further, but I know this: I'm really sensitive about these shoes. I don't want to be "That girl who's 24 and acts like she's 22", or, even worse, "that hipster girl with the hipster shoes" when I might not really be hipster at all. And can I be "that hipster girl with the shoes" when I 1. Work at Starbucks and 2. work for a dentist?
And there are other signs that I'm hipster, except that I might not be, unless I am.
Lets see...
I go to open mic night.
My boyfriend has long hair and is in a band.
Before I burned it in a bar, my "purse" was a canvas tote bag with a skull on it. (But I got it for free).
I hate George Bush.
I used to wear those chunky glasses (but I don't anymore, but I still think they're cute).
The Chuck Taylors!
The fact that I'm wondering if my Chuck Taylors are ironic.
I have a blog, and carry my digital camera everywhere.
I have a lot of hoodies. But I don't wear them that much anymore. But sometimes I do.
I have a moleskin notebook...ok, I have three, but they came in a three pack and Rob bought them for me as a day-before-birthday present.
I really, really, really like Radiohead and The Shins. (Sorry, honey)
I have a Nano! But it was a present.
My hair is messy, and I like it that way.
I read QC.
So am I hipster? I really don't think I want to be. But I might be. I don't know.