Hipsters on TV
Man, we really need to watch more early morning Fox News. We almost missed yesterday’s segment from The Five, where former White House Press Secretary Dana Perino had to stop host Eric Bolling (who was ranting about Mark Zuckerburg, consummate hipster) to ask what a hipster was. (Since hipsters can make money now, they are relevant on Fox.)
“Just for asking that, you are a hipster!” the very confused Mr. Bolling crowed, as if accusing Ms. Perino of having cooties.
Insta-Nostalgia (noun): Glorification/yearning of or for a period in history that only recently ended, or is still occurring. Confined mostly to Millennials, hipsters, and Kurt Andersen, symptoms of insta-nostalgia may include anything from ironic Lana Del Rey listening parties to an obsession with Instagram photos.
Brooklyn’s 3rd Ward is a great place to take classes on art, sculpture, and hipsterdom. Where else can you drink PBR while drawing nudes, with the only cost being a basic membership fee of $129 a year (not including classes)?
But in addition to woodworking and jewelry-making, 3rd Ward is now offering a new opportunity for young 20-somethings with too much money and time on their hands: a “Culinary Incubator,” which will teach classes on asking a waiter with the proper amount of condescension: “But were all the ingredients grown locally?”
DFA Records’ co-founder and retired LCD Soundsystem bandleader James Murphy has always exhibited a certain stripe of self-awareness that other musicians could probably take lessons from. In one of two films to feature Mr. Murphy at this year’s Sundance Film Festival—the other one being the documentary about his band’s final concert—he has a cameo role as a guy stuck between two obnoxious, aging hipsters in a taxi.
As Election Day 2008 approached, if you were an urban organic kale farmer, or a crochet enthusiast or a vaudevillian with a new song to sing, and you wanted to support Barack Obama for president, you were in luck.
The streets of New York were crowded with “Walks for Change,” “Bike4Barack” groups, “Karaoke We Can Believe In” sing-alongs, “Get Out the Laughs and Votes” comedy shows and “Art for Change” auctions. The days leading up to the election saw Pasties for Peace, a Cowboys for Barack Wild West Burlesque Show Fund-raiser, a Yo La Tengo fund-raiser at McCarren Pool, and a $1,000 fund-raiser in Dumbo featuring They Might Be Giants, which sold out.
Richie Fife, who helped lead the Obama effort in the run-up to the primary, estimated that 10,000 New Yorkers had contacted his office to get involved and that three times that many were out on the streets on their own initiative.
That’s BroBo as in Bronx Bohemian, not Brooklyn Bohemian.
The Times has been surfing the wave of Rockaways revelry all summer, praising the food, the parties, the sun dresses, the food, and, sure, the surfing. But sometimes life’s not all a beach. The Daily News has turned up at least one stretch of the Rockaways that is far from gentrified.
Things may be jumping over on Beach 96th Street, but Beach 116th Street goes wanting. The clams are still fried and the sun is shining, but an S.R.O. and other rundown properties—and the flotsam and jetsam that wash up with them—is ruining the fun.
Williamsburg You Ever Hear of It?
As new revelations about the impending criminal trial of Dominique-Strauss Kahn continue to emerge, the New York Times went for a triple-play of coverage on the story this (decidedly American) holiday weekend. Buried in the story concerning New Yorkers’ attitudes about the case, however, was this gem of a parenthetical:
One of the unexpected consequences of all the condo construction that swept North Brooklyn after the 2005 rezoning has been an influx of hipsters, yuppies and BroBos so grand, the post office now needs a new zip code besides 11211 to handle all the mail.
There was some mystery as to who would be losing out on the palindromic postal code, but now the USPS has sent out a map identifying the losers—and it looks to be the same people the locals have been calling losers for a while now.
Don’t be fooled by the potbellies and mustaches, Williamsburg residents haven’t gone soft yet.
Indeed, nothing caps off a Saturday afternoon at the Brooklyn Flea like a round of Brazilian ground wrestling. Or so we gather given that Williamsburg Brazilian Jiu Jitsu has just signed a 2,800-square-foot lease at 42 Dobbin Street, between Nassau and Norman avenues. The studio is run Read More