I love hipsters. I love their tight jeans, their pale faces, their self-absorbed air, their deeply-rooted shallowness.
The Twin Cities are awash with these types. I generally lump them into a young un crowd because older hipsters aren't hipsters; they're misplaced hippies or somesuch. Real hipsters are young and self-righteous and I love them.
I love watching them, I love noting what they're wearing (so good!), and if I get a chance, I love talking to them. Sometimes they are incredibly smart and informed and sometimes deep as a deep blue puddle. Just like the rest of us.
Remember when you may have had hipster tendencies? Remember when you were filled with self-righteous indignation? It just might be the only thing I miss about being a young un.