If you're a happening young thang, the polo shirt and khaki outfit I'm disposed towards (the de rigueur uniform for East Coast prep schoolers) is pretty much this generation's lame Mr. Rogers polyester sweater and dark slacks ensemble. I couldn't stand out more if I burst into "It's A Beautiful Day in The Neighborhood" while clicking my heels like Tinkerbell. And it's a good thing I'm not single, because a 20-something bachelor who dares to wear a collar in the Los Angeles Basin has a much better chance of hooking up a "Kick Me" sign on his back than he does with a chick.
I'm by far not the first person to deconstruct hipster fashion, but it's still fun to go through the motions.
Here's the type of look that's in: greaseball aviator shades from 1978, a tight-fitting factory-distressed Fresca tee shirt that runs about 200 bucks, dark jeans with knife slashes from that time you gave a poetry reading in the hood, and leather boxing footwear of some sort. Let me quickly add that if Jack Dempsey were alive today and saw some weasily Account Executive from MTV Networks parading around in boxing shoes, he'd cheerfully give him a brain-damage inducing 1-2-3 combo right on the spot. All in all, dudes wearing this kind of getup are trying to say "I'm an artist who happens to wield my brush in the corporate reaches of pop culture" but I can't help thinking that they're hapless followers who would wear a bonnet and sun dress if they thought it made them alternative, edgy, and unique.
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