If there is one constant in my life, it is that I am not hip. In fact, I can’t even tell you if it is still hip to say things are hip.
However, I am a people watcher. I see people all of the time trying to look cool – when it is clear to the observer that they are either being very uncool, dorky, or (as is often the case) a complete ass.
Today, I turned my critical eye upon myself as a way of measuring the idiocy of others. I was late for an appointment this morning (fashionable, for sure) and I ran out of the house in an untucked J. Crew polo, a pair of loose fitting jeans, old shoes, and my sunglasses (which may or may not be out of style). As I reached my first meeting, I stepped out of the car with sunglasses on my head, cell phone in hand, and walked toward the coffee shop. I was a true hipster doofus today.
To top off the “look”, I was not wearing a belt (by accident) and found myself constantly tugging on my pants to keep them in place. Sure, I was wearing boxers, like all of the droopy pant wearing teens, but – as people like to remind me far too often – I am 42 years old. I cannot pull off the baggy pantsed nitwit look. Nor would I want to if I could.
There are very few times when dropping your pants to your knees in public can be appropriate. Trust me on this, I have taken full advantage of those times in my past but today just did not feel like one of those rare moments. So, I found myself constantly walking with one hand grasping my jeans pocket just for extra security. I felt like an idiot – especially when I had to stop off at the grocery on the way home. It’s hard to carry that little basket full of meat, a bag of charcoal and a cell phone while casually holding your pants on your body.
I am glad to be my age. I would not have liked to grow up in the current generation. The pressure to be a hipster doofus would be too much for me – and the constant fight against gravity would be stressful.