You have told us winter is basically here, and we should all be drinking warm, alcoholic beverages to chase off the Yuletide chill. I would challenge one of the basic assumptions underlying your analysis. To wit, your assumption it is in fact winter. Winter begins on December 21, when the hibernal solstice places the sun at its yearly nadir, pitching the world into maximal darkness. Before the solstice, it is merely autumn. Thus, I cannot resist asking you, did you mean to imply it was winter... wait for it... before it was cool?
— Hector C.
Sure, maybe you could be a stickler for rules and demarcate a hard line between autumn and winter, where the former ends abruptly at 11:59 pm on December 20 as the latter begins. But not only is that not very fun, it also makes little sense to me. It’s not as if the season actually sets in with a crash and a bang from one minute to the next. The difference between fall and winter is something you experience differently each year. The experience is ultimately very analog, like slowly moving the fader on your vintage two-channel amplifier so that the seasons segue smoothly from one to another along an infinitely variable curve.
Hipsters traditionally begin the fall season by publicly scorning (while privately enjoying) the year’s first pumpkin spice latte, but these days the latte bestows its spicy blessing upon us long before the calendar announces the official end of summer. Thus, because hipster fall arguably begins in summer, why can’t hipster winter arguably begin in fall? I’ve personally celebrated hipster winter as early as July, by listening to Christmas music. And many of the traditional signifiers of hipster winter are already upon us. For example, I have already worn a 1970s-style ski sweater to the patios at my favorite bars, which is a sure sign of hipster winter, and I think I already spotted a Star Wars nativity scene featuring The Mandalorian’s “Baby Yoda” in his little floating manger. I defy you to find a more reliable sign of Hipster Winter 2019 than that!
So, there you have it. Winter is when you want it. Nothing means anything. Enjoy your eggnog.
I was at a restaurant the other night and I saw a guy dressed basically as The Dude from The Big Lebowski. I am about 99 percent sure he was wearing his normal clothes, as opposed to being in costume or ironic dress. I need to know if that’s hipster AF or plain weird.
An accurate Dude costume represents either the height of Halloween accomplishment or the purest hipster commitment to a themed Big Lebowski viewing party where you and your friends drink hella White Russians. Dressing like the Dude every day because you like the feeling of a tatty sweater and gym shorts seems to me little more than a commitment to living like a guy whose only form of identification is a Ralphs card. Somewhere in the middle lies the ultimate hipster move — accidentally assembling a note-perfect Dude costume because everything else you owned was dirty and you had to meet friends for an impromptu Taco Tuesday, then acting like you don’t know what anyone is talking about when people start quoting the movie at you. Magnificent. I bet that’s what was going on.
— DJ Stevens