There's a new coffee bar where I live called
Archive. My wife and I enjoy coffee and we enjoy playing cards in coffee shops, so we walked in and sat down. It was fun. The proprietors have a real eye for detail.
For starters everything looks reclaimed. The walls seem hung with old beams from leather boot factories. There's a very interesting image on the far wall made out of thread wound around nails. I looked around before I poked it. Nice tension; quality craftsmanship.
Then there are the barristas, who look a lot like civil war veterans. Their beards are long and well kempt, and the whitewalled sides of their heads grow into slick-backed demi-pompadours. Jeans are made of selvage denim and cuffed. Footwear looks like something paratroopers strapped up before jumping over Normandy. Sleeves are rolled and suspenders bring it all together.
They're very friendly and they know what they're talking about when it comes to coffee. They view themselves as artisans, and the product justifies that view.
We enjoyed it.
Still, nagging at the back of my brain, a small voice kept saying "poseurs."
Why? Why did I feel a need to judge these very kind, sincere people?
One of the great benefits of Stoicism is that it cultivates an ability to separate oneself from one's thoughts and examine them from the outside. I think this is what Seneca means when he says:
"What progress have I made? I am beginning to be my own friend.’ That is progress indeed. Such a people will never be alone and you may be sure he is a friend to all."
First, I felt a little threatened. Hipsters often present as intellectuals. Sometimes it's a calculated pose, but in my experience it's often not. Often they really are people who read and think. They're into alternative lifestyles and alternative philosophies... What if they know something that I don't? What if they're smarter?
A number of them definitely are smarter. Isn't that good? Engaging in conversation with a smart person who knows something that I don't should be improving, not threatening. I have a feeling that a number of young Stoics I interact with online might fit into the hipster category. We're all reviving a nearly extinct philosophy, after all. That's pretty fringe.
I find that these young Stoics really know their stuff. They're often not weighed down by family and career in the same way that I am. They have time to think. When I listen to them and offer them friendship we both benefit. When I refute them and offer sarcasm neither of us benefit.
So feeling threatened by hipsters is not a worthy thought. Moving on...
Second, I felt out of place. I didn't belong. I didn't dress like them, for starters. I keep a short beard and I wear those sort of 60's style glasses because those are about the only kind you can get anymore, but I was just wearing some old leather shoes, battered jeans and an old button up shirt... hang on...
There I am in a beard and horned rimmed glasses sipping fair-trade yirgacheffe coffee and playing cards with my wife on a reclaimed work bench while people talk about art and philosophy all around me...
Am I a hipster?
Does it matter? Maybe a good cup of coffee is just a good cup of coffee, and good conversation is just good conversation. Maybe choosing to think this way will make me more of a friend to all.
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I release the above picture into the public domain, because that's the kind of guy I am. This one's for you, StoicBeCuz.
