Hipster superpower

Dear Hipster:

Would it be hipster to refer to “an hipster,” as opposed to “a hipster,” or would it be pretentious?

— An Enquirer

I think it’s only pretentious if you say “an hipster” when you use what linguists call an “aspirated h,” i.e. pronouncing the h rather than skipping over it like a cheeky Brit and saying something like “Oi, mate, there’s an ‘ipster over there!”

Another option, for when you want to come off as a kind of hipster polyglot, would be referring always to “one hipster,” Spanglish style. E.g., “Dude, you look like one hipster in those skinny jeans and suspenders.”

A third option, if you really want to blow minds, would be always referring only to “the hipster,” e.g., “From more than 20 feet away, I can’t tell the difference between the hipster and a lumberjack.” This acknowledges the universal quality of hipsterness. In the end, any hipster is but an incarnation of the eternal hipster, who takes whatever form most bucks the prevailing trend of existence at any given moment plucked at random from the nonlinear stream of being that flows backwards and forwards through time, distributing hipness wherever and whenever existence gets too boring.

Dear Hipster:

If you could have a hipster superpower, what would it be?

— Andy

So many options. To have the power of Hipster Jesus (turning water into craft beer) would be pretty fine, but I bet it would get old when people start following you around hoping for free IPA in exchange for dogmatic devotion.

Understanding any song lyric, pop culture reference, or “significance” of a tattoo sleeve no matter how unintelligible and obscure? Instinctively matching plaids and polka dots? Knowing exactly when to leave a party before the cops come? Shaving with your laser vision, because wet shaves at the hipster barber shops are too mainstream? All fine and dandy, I suppose, but more like aspects of regular hipsterosity than bona fide superpowers.

Really, the ultimate hipster super power would be some obscure power nobody has ever heard of, like being able to make kittens wear sneakers and little scarfs without going berserk and trying to claw everyone’s eyes out or doing that weird walk cats do when they get stuff on their feet. Sure, nobody thinks its a cool power now, but, you wait, this time next year everybody’s going to have kitten sneaker powers. But I’ll be over it.

Dear Hipster:

How does a hipster celebrate the end of summer?

— Nancy

Hipsters celebrate the end of summer like anyone else, by holding an elaborate ritual of dancing, drums, and ceremonial human sacrifice. If their blood lust is not satisfied, the vengeful sun gods might withhold their life-giving warmth from us, thus plunging the world into an endless winter where even the hottest flat whites and stoutest ales cannot warm the souls of the damned.

Of course, in municipalities that ban human sacrifice, most hipsters settle for having a cookout or something; maybe play a little bag toss, listen to some good tunes, drink a few beers, throw a couple gluten-free sausages on the grill, etc. Vengeful as they are, the sun gods aren’t total dicks.