Another story about hipsters... whatever that term even means anymore...

 

When I used to live in Richmond, Virginia I always heard about a mythical land of hipsters. It was a land where irony and cynicism flowed from every faucet, where bangs were on every head, and where young lads could roam the streets in tight jeans without nary a question of, “sir, where have you placed your balls?”

 

This mythical land was called Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

 

But there I was in Richmond, surrounded by Virginia hipsters, drinking PBR, and pondering getting a tattoo myself and I thought, nah…..we can take ‘em. I often called for a reality TV show pitting Richmond hipsters vs. Williamsburg hipsters. I always thought Richmonds hipsters were more dedicated hipsters.

...

By day, on the L train, you are surrounded by young, creative, urban professionals- but at night they flock to you in huge cackling hordes-arms out, covered in tattoos, neon tights, odd boots, and zaggy haircuts.When George Romero makes his next film, he should shoot it on Bedford street at night and call it Night of the Living Turd. They go arrrrggghhhh as they head to the watering hole of Union Pool and arrggghh as they round the corner to Bushwick Country Club. But Williamsburg hipster zombies don’t feed on blood. They feed on their need to feel cool. Specifically, cooler than you.

....

http://magazine.jamsbio.com/2008/09/10/showdown-in-the-mythical-land-of-hipsters/