It was my wife who recently drew the strong comparison of the twenty something Hipster’s to their Hippy forefathers of the ’60s. We were discussing the jokey irony of giving our new baby boy the middle name “Adventure”. She pointed out that in 20 years time, he will most likely dismiss this name with disdain blaming it on his ‘Hipster Parents’ and his friends Anchor and Cassette will nod knowingly. Because when we thought about it, what is different to our post-modern ironic joke name compared to the 60’s idealistic Hippie names of Wheatgrass, Eternity and Cloudweaver?
The Hipster movement is clearly an update of the Hippie movement. They wore flares, Hipsters skinny jeans. For the Hippy love was free, and for the Hipster it’s online. They would change the world with protests and folk songs, Hipsters would create their own world out of op-shop finds and retro camera photography. LSD was the drug of choice for the hippy, while the Hipster is influenced by their therapist’s choice of drugs. Hippies got around in Combi Vans fuelled with flower power, while the Hipster prefers pedal power from fixed wheel bicycles. Facial hair is something both tribes have in common, although this rarely seen of the female Hipster like it was the female Hippie.
So what can Hipsters learn from the eventual fate of the Hippies? That most will grow up and forget why they cared, and get distracted by superannuation and fibre. Occasionally, drunk at birthdays they’ll listen to Vampire Weekend songs and swear it was the best music ever made, all while their son Anchor points and laughs at the ‘stupid old Hipsters’! Sure there will still be the old leftover diehard who refuses to change. They will remain in suburbs like Williamsburg, Shoreditch and North Fitzroy, remembering the good old days of community vegetarian cooks ups and launches of friends blogs, gazing back on the past through their non-prescription blackframes and sleeping on copies of Frankie Magazine.
