This post is also available in: Spanish
Photos by Beto Ramos
The hipsters live below 14th st. There’s been some debate among my friends about whether or not I’m a hipster. I deny it. But one part of being a hipster is never admitting you are one. Just like crazy people don’t know they’re crazy, hipsters don’t know they’re hipsters, so now I’m confused. I thought I’d be able to get away with wearing these leather shorts and knee-high sock around 7th St., hispter turf (my turf?), but turns out those hipsters love judging others. I got lots of nasty stares from those plaid-wearing, ironic mustache-rocking, thick-frame-glass-donning beings. I just flipped my hair and said: “Whatever, bitches, I’m fabulous.”
Speaking of fabulous. How do you like my new wedge sneakers? Would you wear them?
CLICKY-CLICKY FOR MORE PICS!
I had my ironic mustache too! What’s up?
Top: mine, Marshalls
Shoes: CG Shoes, Pay/half
Bag (last seen here) : Street vendor in the Upper West Side
All other jewelry : Wholesalers
Sunglasses (last seen here): ALDO