I'm so not Hipster. Here's why.

I try valiantly to just be me. And be ok with it. Every now and again I get these flashes of feeling so uncool. And I try to be ok with that too.
Today's post is about hipsters. If you are unfamiliar, do read the wikipedia post on it. It's funny in and of itself. I found this funny blog to help folks diagnose if they are hipsters...
 When we started attending Renovatus Church, I thought I just had some friends with European tastes in clothing or the affinity for a thrift store. They were my "artsy-fartsy" friends.
I remember the exact moment I realized they were part of a social people group. (Admittedly, I was definitely late to the hipster party. That's what happens when you work at a super-conservative church and don't get out enough.) We went to an art show in the arts area of Charlotte. It was an area I had frequented in the late 90's and early 2000's. But after a short hiatus, the vibe had changed. Everyone in the large gallery space looked like my artsy-fartsy friends. With their vintage calico clothes, multi-layers, teal tights, skinny jeans, flowers in their hair, rumpled boots or ballet flats, hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in two weeks or cut in two years (esp. on the boys)...etc. I was immediately fascinated. I was watching them as an anthropologist might eye a previously unknown tribe. It was like their breeding ground or something. I then also realized that there were LOTS of familiar faces. Tons of them either attended my church or had floated through there at some point. The gallery show was comprised of a handful of folks I knew or knew of, so that made sense. I just didn't realize this was a hipster-Christian-artist-people-group! They all seemed so cool. And I seemed so old and uncool. I couldn't have been more than 5 years older than most of them, but the expanse seemed great.
I've worked toward being ok with not being hipster. There are a few major things that would prevent me from going there anyway. And in very anti-hipster fashion, I've made a LIST. And just for kicks, I'm going to NUMBER IT. Watch out.

1. I'm too hot-natured: Boots in the summer with a sundress? Knit beanie...ever? I live in the south. I never need anything knit on my head unless I'm going outside to play in the snow. Fifteen layers of anthropologie-thrift-calico? Eight yards of scarf draped over everything? I just can't handle it, y'all. I would sweat through and then be angry. Getting warm and getting angry go hand in hand. Don't y'all get HOT?
You might be hipster...

2. Every time I've tried to venture the slightest bit into hipster-fashion-land, I just look like a clown. I love a pop of color, but I can't seem to pull off the devil-may-care color and pattern attitude of the hipsters. While I admire their abilities, I just look silly. I thought I might try to wear a pair of red tights recently. There was nothing in my wardrobe that would support them without looking like a weird circus-hobo-hoarder hybrid. And I truly cannot belt a cardigan.
3. I'm too old: As I approach 40 (eegads!!!) and have produced a small offspring, I can no longer stay out late or stand up for long periods of time. That pretty much cancels any cool concerts since they begin at 10 or 11 pm and are usually standing-room-only. These days, I love curling up with my Kindle at 9:30 pm in some sort of jammies. I even like a lot of the music, but my feet and back hurt after standing for any length of time.
4. Speaking of feet...I love some ballet flats, but I have bad feet. That knocks out converse, ballet flats Toms, and other staples of the hipster shoe wardrobe.
5. I like pop music. According to hipsters, I should go to a support group for saying that.  :) I don't love it. But I'm not indie-chic. It seems too much to keep up with...always looking for the obscure, experiemental band that four people know about. I like stuff I can sing along with, has a fun beat, good vocals. I don't really care if they play the dobro with dulcimer hammers. Case in point, Sigur Ros. That music just makes me think that murderous fairies are going to strangle me in the night. I don't get it.
6. I'm OK with having a desk job. Possibly I'm too practical. I like having good insurance, a steady paycheck; and I'm ok with not fulfilling every artistic dream I can dream. I'm creative, but not an artist. It's ok. Some of us have to have desk jobs, get up every morning and be more creative in our off hours. Not knocking anyone who chooses to live their dreams and work in coffee shops...but it's a similar kind of future...so, you're going to be staring at 40 and have seniority at Starbucks? Or, in case you're anti-Starbucks, since that's "the man..." seniority at {insert local fair-trade coffee establishment}? Kudos to you for creating art. The world definitely needs more of that. I'm not being sarcastic. There is far too much ugly in the world.
7. I wish I could create more art. I'm artistic, but not an artist. I can barely use my DSLR on auto-focus. I don't take creative pictures of the tree silhouettes against the sky or my food creations with my iPhone. I don't sit up 'til 4 am writing songs about poetry and love and the meaning of it all or lack thereof. I don't make crafty crafts to sell on etsy or to hang in my hipster baby's room. This is one area that I really do lament. But I just don't have time to handcraft paper flowers and origami birds. 'Cause I'm sitting at a desk job all day.
8. I eat processed food. I'm not proud of it. It just is. I'm not making homemade kefir, drinking raw milk (you people really are crazy), growing my own corn...Thanks to all the hub-bub, I do think a little more about what I'm eating...hub-bub and the constant instagram pictures you guys post of your culinary creations and inhalations...I do purchase actual vegetables and fruits and use them.
9. I have never seriously toyed with being vegetarian or vegan. I can't eat food with bones or legs (like lobster), but I do like a good steak, sprinkled with some stinky bleu cheese. Accompanied by a baked potato with butter and sour cream. Holla.
10. Vintage/thrift/resale clothing just freaks me out. My husband can rock some thrifty finds, but I practically break out into hives at the SMELL of a goodwill. The idea of wearing someone else's dead skin cells makes me die inside. I'm not trying to be elitist. I'd wear second-hand stuff from folks I know. I just can't buy stuff from strangers who might have had 6 cats and a nose-picking habit. There isn't enough detergent in the world to clean that. I'm gagging just writing the sentences out.
11. I choose to forgive some of you for bringing back the 80's fashions. Perhaps because I actually REMEMBER the 80's, it all feels a bit reprocessed. Off the shoulder shirts, punk neon shoes or color-blocked anything...leggings...well. Good luck to you. I'm just not there.

I do applaud you, hipsters and hipster-Christians. You've brought a lot of issues to the fore in a good way...environmental concerns, poverty, sex slavery, etc. So, I enjoy your company, envy your arts, laugh at the boys in skinny jeans a little...but I'm not you. I missed the window by a few years. You fascinate me. And little by little, I learn that whatever it is I'm becoming is ok too. I don't really have a people group, but hopefully we're all part of the same family anyway.

You might be a hipster...