There is a great advert on the TV in the UK for a broadband service based in Yorkshire. In the advert, lots of fanciful things are just about to begin before the protagonist shouts the inimitable catchphrase. Recently I’ve had many an occasion, way too many to be totally truthful, to recant that phrase, if not out loud, but then most definitely sotto voce.
And what causes this mild form of tourettes? Sydney has been taken over by the “hipsters”. Starting with the Bondi Hipsters, Bondi Hipsters - YouTube
, the phenomenon has made it’s way either by stealth, or good transport links, over to the North Shore. No longer can I leave the apartment and walk a few yards before encountering a hipster clothed in Mosman mulberry. And not mulberry of the very expensive handbag variety, but mulberry the colour. I thought it was plum. But no, I was corrected. Definitely mulberry. And it has to be the right tone of mulberry. I was told this by a English friend who turned up in what looked suspiciously like a pair of washed out mulberry shorts. Hmm, I have my eye on him.
To complete the look you have to also wear a pair of achingly cool old style, black rimmed glasses, sport a haircut that looks like something from the 80s with a laughable quaff, have one of the ubiquitous “fixie” bikes without gears, and you have your look.
And it’s everywhere. As though the locals are bred in some kind of test tube and released into the world when they grow into their mulberry chinos. I feel like I am in some kind of Hipster version of the Stepford Wives.
Which leads me back to the advert, and the catchphrase, “You can stop that nonsense”. You see, that’s not how we are made in Yorkshire. We are simple, down to earth folk really. Not feeling the need to look like everybody else to fit in. We realise that by looking like everybody else, you become that exact opposite of cool. And that bike, the fixie with no gears, yeah, maybe it does carry an air of cool about it, but I’d like to see you ride it and not just push it to the café, casually resting it against the wall whilst you order your soy skinny decaff mocha latte chino.
And don’t get me started on the lycra brigade. Maybe next time…