A bottle of wine happened before this post did…
Sydney has got an infestation problem. A problem besides the roaches, mosquitos, rats, snakes, spiders, fleas etc. This city is overrun with bearded, sunglassed, shoeless men. Each one is accompanied by a half-fringed, short shorted, John-Lennon sunglassed female counterpart. There are hipsters as far as the eye can see – spilling out of tiny cafes clutching soy chai lattes, nonchalantly lounging in parks with fluffy white dogs, and smoking roll-ups outside bars so small and secret it’s like being on Crystal Maze trying to get in.
Hipsters are much more approachable here, as is everything with less than eight legs. They travel in small groups. If a bar is a popular hipster hangout it usually means 112 different types of dark spirits and free bar snacks (I like these bars). They have really backward health standards; won’t eat anything that isn’t soy/organic/gluten free yet smoke like chimneys and drink whiskey by the shelf.
This sounds largely negative but that’s not intentional. I love hipsters. They make hunting for good food and booze so much easier with their loitering. Whenever you’re in need of a party, befriend a hipster and you’re away. The bars they frequent and work in are always the cosiest bars with the best music and most interesting artwork (stuffed bull heads, spoon collections, boob candles).
Sean is often mistaken for a hipster, which I think cramps him up a little. He’s had a beard since birth, I assume (anyone know if he even has a chin?). He wears glasses because he actually has poor vision, rather than because it makes him look cool. His girlfriend is sans fringe, and thinks John Lennon glasses for girls are a weird concept.
But the moral of this story is that hipsters are great. Their hangouts have resulted in many of my favourite memories in this glorious country. They’re easy on the eye, too. I’m finishing this post a little drunker than I started it. But I digress. Thank you, hipsters. Surry Hills would be lost without you.