I found this on Google. Don’t ask me where it came from.
This is supposedly a music blog, but I just got back from the Walkmen show and I want to talk about FASHIN!
First of all, I have noticed a new breed of hipster lately. Burlington is currently in the throes of Brooklynification, as that borough has reached terminal hipster velocity and must now extend, tentacle-like, to even tiny burgs like our own.
Interestingly, Brooklyn itself is undergoing a bit of a makeover, largely due to the influence of so-called "freak-folk" artists (and Williamsburg colonists) such as Devendra Banhart. The indie-rock cognoscenti’s lock-step fashion sensibility has lately been infiltrated by a not-so-subtle hippie aesthetic. That’s right, kids — you can finally feel free to sport a clam-digger’s beard with those pegged pants of yours.
This confluence of stylistic influences has resulted in a curious hipster polyglot that I’ve yet to come up with a name for. (I have invented a new genre of music, however — it’s called "Yap." But more on that later). These curious creatures can even be seen in the Queen City. Apologies to Tanner and his crew, but some of you guys are totally perfect examples.
Now that actual hippies see more rockers sporting beards, they feel less intimidated about checking out these mysterious concerts. And who can blame ‘em for expanding their repertoire? So what if they’ll be at the Umphrey’s McGee show tomorrow night. Today’s the day for downstrummed, ahem, angular guitars and faux-boho crooning!
Speaking of guitars, the Walkmen’s auxiliary six-stringer looked sharp in a nice Banana Republic sweater and a wide collared shirt. I almost called him a bitch, ’cause I he was wearing nearly the same thing I was. He has no beard. But he does enjoy a nice downstroke now and again.
Oh, and here’s a new fashion rule: You can have your hoodie. You can have your beard. You can even have your baseball cap. But you MAY NOT, under any circumstances, have all three at the same time — especially if you’re inclined to pull the hoodie over the cap. What is that all about? Are you trying to keep your hat warm?
I understand this post may create a stir among some of my furry-faced friends, so I must insist: I mean no disrespect. I love beards, really, I do! Hell, our 16th president had one, and he was a great emancipator. And let’s not forget about ZZ Top — they had one sweet ride.
So don’t get all follicle crazed on me, aight? I’d grow a beard if I could. My cats won’t let me. They say it scratches their tummies.