The Hip­ster tax­on­omy

Lies, half-truths, the joke’s over.

The McGill Daily - - Contents -

Resin. What is it? A pro­tec­tive coat­ing for a piece of wood? Some kind of tree sap? An in­gre­di­ent in can­dle­mak­ing? What­ever it is, it is nat­u­ral and it is authen­tic; so too is the resin hip­ster. Com­monly found pour­ing over Hem­ing­way and sip­ping six dol­lar lat­tes served by a barista with an at­ti­tude. Com­monly found get­ting a spruce tree tat­too be­cause they just feel con­nected to na­ture and re­ally love At­lantic Canada. Com­monly found brew­ing their own chamomile honey rose­wa­ter beer and hang­ing up framed posters of her­itage equip­ment. These in­di­vid­u­als have care­fully cu­rated in­sta­grams show­cases only their most authen­tic selves. “A pic­ture of me in front of a sun­set hold­ing my 35mm nikon”; “Me and my friends en­joy­ing a quirky pic­nic in a corn­field”; “An an­gry barista made me this beau­ti­ful latte.” It is im­por­tant to note that these are not the cap­tions that the resin hip­ster would choose - their in­sta­gram would ob­vi­ously be pep­pered with Bon Iver lyrics.

The min­i­mal­ist hip­ster can be spot­ted walk­ing through the mile end wear­ing cuffed black jeans, a comme des gar­cons t- shirt, and a plain base­ball hat with a curved bill. How much did this im­mac­u­late uni­form cost? Only the min­i­mal­ist hip­ster knows. These hip­sters love sparse rooms and sat­is­fy­ing con­tain­ers. They are the most likely to go club­bing and de­velop a co­caine habit, partly be­cause clean white lines are con­gru­ent with their es­thetic, and partly be­cause their af­flu­ence al­lows them to flirt with an edgy dan­ger­ous life with­out hav­ing to deal with the con­se­quences. Their in­sta­grams seem so lack­ing in cu­ra­to­rial de­ci­sion that the ab­sence ac­tu­ally be­comes the es­thetic. An un­fil­tered poorly lit photo of an equally min­i­mal­ist friend look­ing ap­a­thetic? The min­i­mal­ist hip­ster will post it be­cause they just. don’t. care.

The co- op hip­ster abounds in Mon­treal. These in­di­vid­u­als of­ten wear only other peo­ple’s dis­carded cloth­ing but some­how still look spon­ta­neously hip. These hip­sters care. A lot. But not about their in­sta­gram es­thetic, they care about is­sues. They are most likely to be chas­tised for be­ing an an­gry ve­gan, or for mak­ing a friend feel guilty for not re­cy­cling. They love mar­kets and food co- ops and free com­mu­nity work­shops be­cause they are so col­lec­tive. These hip­sters’ free-spir­ited ex­cite­ment, while of­ten ad­mirable, can some­times tip into the realm of manic-pixie- dream­girl. They’re here sell­ing home­made kom­bucha at the mar­ket col­lec­tive to­day, but where will they be to­mor­row? Sleep­ing in a friend’s back­yard tree­house? Per­form­ing at a mu­sic fes­ti­val? Half­way across the coun­try in a rideshare with three peo­ple who are op­posed to show­er­ing? Who knows?

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