I'd like to develop my thoughts on hipsterism a bit further. In my last essay I described an encounter with hipsters in which I found that some self-reflection allowed me to abandon my own insecurity and appreciate them for what they were. I even admitted to displaying a certain amount of hipster aesthetic. I'm not a hipster myself, though. One stark difference between us remains: they value irony more than sincerity. I don't.
We live in an ironic age, we are told. One aspect of modern irony is self-deprecation. We make fun of ourselves. Why? According to Christy Wampole (How to Live Without Irony) we do so to preempt criticism. We do it out of fear.
"Take, for example, an ad that calls itself an ad, makes fun of its own format, and attempts to lure its target market to laugh at and with it. It pre-emptively acknowledges its own failure to accomplish anything meaningful. No attack can be set against it, as it has already conquered itself. The ironic frame functions as a shield against criticism. The same goes for ironic living. Irony is the most self-defensive mode, as it allows a person to dodge responsibility for his or her choices, aesthetic and otherwise. To live ironicly is to hide in public."
I think that there's something to this. We insult ourselves before other people can. If we produce something sincere on a social media platform and people mock us it stings because they are mocking who we are. If we present ourselves as clownish figures, though, we preempt their mockery with our own. We are in on the joke. It's safer. We risk less. Isn't this a species of cowardice?
Wampole's essay is excellent, and I think that she is right to be suspicious of irony, but she misses a very important aspect of hipster culture: authenticity.
One of the great hallmarks of hipster culture is the rejection of consumerism. Hipsters shun the cheap and instant. Why do hipsters spend $200 on jeans made from antique looms in Japan? Because those are the REAL thing. That's what jeans are supposed to be. People put effort into them. People cared about them. That smacks of... sincerity.
In her essay Wampole pokes fun at trombone playing hipsters. Fair enough; it seems a little odd, but let me tell you, anybody who gets decent at the trombone is sincere. They may laugh about it with their friends, they may play it off as a quirky hobby, but they are absolutely sincere. Learning an instrument takes discipline and commitment. There's no irony to be mined there.
Why learn the trombone at all? So that you can pull it out, play something jaunty for twenty seconds and then have a laugh with your friends? No. Hipsters learn to play trombone because the trombone is real in a way that Rhianna is not. I've seen hipster brass bands playing on street corners; they mean it. Complement their playing and their eyes shine with pride.
What I see in the hipster movement is a looking back to some of the things we've lost as a culture. We used to make things with our hands. We used to pay real money for real craftsmanship. Life was slower. Hipsters were raised in a fast-paced consumerist wonderland where everything is available on demand, instantly. They crave something more meaningful.
Consider some evidence Jonathan Fitzgerald's counter argument to Wampole:
"All across the pop culture spectrum, the emphasis on sincerity and authenticity that has arisen has made it un-ironically cool to care about spirituality, family, neighbors, the environment, and the country. And pollsters find this same trend in the up-and-coming generation from which Wampole culls her hipsters, Millennials. A recent Knights of Columbus-Marist Poll survey found that among Millennials, six out of 10 prioritized being close to God and having a good family life above anything else. For those in Generation X, family was still important, but the second priority was not spirituality—it was making a lot of money. Clearly, a change has been underway."
Now, do hipsters present themselves with a bit of irony? Absolutely. If you're going to twist your mustache into waxed handlebars then you're going to stand out from the dominant culture, and irony is a serviceable defense mechanism. But behind the irony stands a deeper ethic: sincerity.
And let us remember that sincerity doesn't automatically mean "good." Take the classic example from the 80's megahit Wall Street, in which Gordon Gekko tells us that greed is good. It's supposed to be a cautionary tale, but people adopted it as a mantra:
There's no irony to be found there! He's completely sincere. That slicked-back hair is the predatory embodiment of a shark's fins. Those power shoulders are meant to intimidate.
I'll take hipster irony over yuppie sincerity any day, friends.
Thanks to Greg Milner for linking to Wampole's essay. I found inspiration in a counter argument to that essay by Jonathan Fitzgerald. Read Mr. Fitzgerald's work here.
One of the great hallmarks of hipster culture is the rejection of consumerism. Hipsters shun the cheap and instant. Why do hipsters spend $200 on jeans made from antique looms in Japan? Because those are the REAL thing. That's what jeans are supposed to be. People put effort into them. People cared about them. That smacks of... sincerity.
In her essay Wampole pokes fun at trombone playing hipsters. Fair enough; it seems a little odd, but let me tell you, anybody who gets decent at the trombone is sincere. They may laugh about it with their friends, they may play it off as a quirky hobby, but they are absolutely sincere. Learning an instrument takes discipline and commitment. There's no irony to be mined there.
Why learn the trombone at all? So that you can pull it out, play something jaunty for twenty seconds and then have a laugh with your friends? No. Hipsters learn to play trombone because the trombone is real in a way that Rhianna is not. I've seen hipster brass bands playing on street corners; they mean it. Complement their playing and their eyes shine with pride.
What I see in the hipster movement is a looking back to some of the things we've lost as a culture. We used to make things with our hands. We used to pay real money for real craftsmanship. Life was slower. Hipsters were raised in a fast-paced consumerist wonderland where everything is available on demand, instantly. They crave something more meaningful.
Consider some evidence Jonathan Fitzgerald's counter argument to Wampole:
"All across the pop culture spectrum, the emphasis on sincerity and authenticity that has arisen has made it un-ironically cool to care about spirituality, family, neighbors, the environment, and the country. And pollsters find this same trend in the up-and-coming generation from which Wampole culls her hipsters, Millennials. A recent Knights of Columbus-Marist Poll survey found that among Millennials, six out of 10 prioritized being close to God and having a good family life above anything else. For those in Generation X, family was still important, but the second priority was not spirituality—it was making a lot of money. Clearly, a change has been underway."
Now, do hipsters present themselves with a bit of irony? Absolutely. If you're going to twist your mustache into waxed handlebars then you're going to stand out from the dominant culture, and irony is a serviceable defense mechanism. But behind the irony stands a deeper ethic: sincerity.
And let us remember that sincerity doesn't automatically mean "good." Take the classic example from the 80's megahit Wall Street, in which Gordon Gekko tells us that greed is good. It's supposed to be a cautionary tale, but people adopted it as a mantra:
There's no irony to be found there! He's completely sincere. That slicked-back hair is the predatory embodiment of a shark's fins. Those power shoulders are meant to intimidate.
I'll take hipster irony over yuppie sincerity any day, friends.
* * *
Thanks to Greg Milner for linking to Wampole's essay. I found inspiration in a counter argument to that essay by Jonathan Fitzgerald. Read Mr. Fitzgerald's work here.
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