If home is where you hang your hat then Silver Lake is rapidly turning into the world's largest hat rack. Over the past 12 months, it has become de rigueur in hipster courting rituals for male hipsters (homo habilus hipstericus) to trot out increasingly ridiculous pieces of vintage head-ware in an effort to woo the female species of hipster (homo habilus hipstripesicus). A trend once confined to the deepest recesses of the Cha Cha Lounge has spread like wildfire, consuming most of Hollywood and threatening as far west as the Fairfax district. As a native Angeleno dedicated to the preservation of a sane, safe city, I have decided to compile a guide designed to help ameliorate this obvious hipster identity crisis. If you or anyone you know has this problem, please take them to the nearest Lids as rapidly as possible.
Unless you're a chain-smoking, hard-as-nails 1940s gumshoe who can say the phrase “private dick” with a straight face, you probably shouldn't be wearing a fedora. I know half of you guys went to private school with people named Humphrey and/or Dashiell, but unless you've actually solved at least one mystery in your life then you are forbidden from fedora-ing. And, no figuring out to the plot to Mullholland Drive doesn't count as a mystery. Of course, there is also the fact that Will I Am wears fedoras. And nothing Will I Am does can ever be cool. Nothing.
If I wanted to see a walking, talking, ball of hair in a derby hat, I'd just go watch an episode of The Addams Family.
Fight the revolution! One $3.00 organic fair trade cup of coffee at a time.
The Newsboy Cap
Repeat after me: just because I know every word to every song in Newsies does not give me the right to wear a newsboy cap. Sorry to be the bearer of ill tidings, you don't look like Dave Chappelle, you look more like the guy on the couch.
The Top Hat
Okay fine, so I've never actually seen anyone on the streets of Silver Lake wearing a top hat. But I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and have concluded that the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland very well might be the proto-hipster. Think about it. Garish color schemes, check. Shaggy unkempt mane, check. Penchant for spewing pretentious gibberish, check. Indie-rock style snug trousers, you betcha. And most importantly, the Mad Hatter had no real job and spent all day every day having tea parties with his friends. Give that man a laptop, stick him at the Intelligentsia Cafe, and he'd be in hog fucking heaven.
Pros: You have a 0.01 percent chance of getting Kate Moss.
Cons: You have to tell people you're wearing something called a trilby hat. Also, may bring back vivid childhood flashbacks of the Scatman.
You know what would be the coolest thing ever? If an indie rock band started writing protest songs and had like eight people on-stage, two of whom were playing the violin and one of one of which was playing the glockenschpiel. And they could be influenced by Modest Mouse and The Talking Heads and Joy Division, with a touch of the Arcade Fire and they could all dress up in military fatigues and they could call themselves The Green Berets. It all starts with the beret. It all starts with the beret.
The Trucker Hat
Sorry brah, last time I checked this wasn't 1999. Don't you have a taped episode of That 70's Show to go home and watch?
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