Urban Outfitters v. Fingerhut

I wish there were a hipster equivalent of Jeff Foxworthy. Because if there was, his first joke would probably go something like "If you've got a picture on your Myspace page taken by Cobrasnake, you're probably a hipster...."

I don't get kids. I'm 27 and I don't get what anyone under 25 is wearing. Two years should not lead me to be this far removed from people who are technically still in my generation. Now, I can understand that some people will argue the merits of Crocs or Uggs based upon comfort. Comfort still does not negate the fact that one of those brands managed to sell you their shoes regardless of the fact that their name included a mention of their "Ugg"liness right there on the shoe. But Crocs and Uggs are the least of my concerns. It's what these hipster girls are wearing. The hipster boys have a whole 'nother boatload of jock itch issues to deal with with their skinny legged girls jeans and Vans that make their feet look like long boards. But let's get back to the girls. Girls, you do realize you are dressing like what the ladies at my grandmother's nursing home wore on the days that they knew no one was coming to visit them, right? Hiking some hideous elastic waisted shorts up high . Strapping on some orthopedic gladiator sandals. A visor? Really?

You hipsters should really start looking into Fingerhut catalogs. Just the name alone is kitschy and ironic and cool. You guys love that. And you can make payments on stuff. So while you are saving up to go see M.I.A's last show EVER at whatever summer festival, you'll be glad to know that a fake gold medallion custom made to spell out "Spank It, Punky" or whatever wacky phrase you choose is just a money order or 8 away.

But now, you've infiltrated even simple aspects of my life such as online shopping. I want to find some pretty dresses. Since I cannot launder anything from Forever XXI (I'm a sucker for Roman numerals) without being left with a half dozen mementos of the garment that I used to own before I foolishly tried to wash it, I am now left to troll the internet for dresses. Which leads me to places like H&M and Topshop. But now I come face to face with things like this:

A turquoise silk onesie/zip-up jumper

What am I supposed to do with that? I know one answer. Wet my pants before I figure out how to get out of it. Which is neat. So I spend upwards of $100, thanks to shipping and the weak dollar, on a fashion statement only to wee myself and then have to sit there in my urine-soaked silk pantsuit telling jokes in a feeble attempt to divert attention from the fact that I now appear to be a 5'8 kindergarten student who waited too long to raise her hand to ask for permission to go.

But wait, it gets better. Female hipster fashion gets sooooooo much more classy.



Let's do this one in an lolcats fashion...

"o hai! my momz didn't raize me right. i don't know dis iz not a dress and i don't have self respect. wanna seez my stuff?"

Now I have many theories about how this next outfit "came" together:



1. You know when you're a kid and you're like "Mommy, can I dress you up to go out?" and she goes "sure" and you put on each individual piece of clothing of hers that you like on her all at once and you later kind of figure out that she changed right before she left? Guess what? This model didn't.

2. She's buying those boots on layaway

3. Those shorts were so expensive that they have to last her for the next 25 years so she bought them long enough and potentially expandable enough to do so.

4. The vest is in case it gets cold. You know, once she finishes paying off the boots she's gonna start putting some away for some sleeves too.

5. The stylist off camera: "No, they're are going to take your picture wearing it. That's what I was TRYING to tell you!"

So you can have it all. Your suspenders and your ironically ugly glasses frames and your flats that make all your calves look like redwoods and your novelty t-shirts that I can see your A cup bras through. You can keep all of them and pay a bunch of money for them and I am going to dress like some unholy trinity of these three women and just hope that I end up floating happy side up in a bathtub full of gin. Bon voyage!