The Economist — my sober news source of choice — had an interesting article the other week: “Flat-white world,” exploring the globalization of hipsterdom.
The headline can be taken a few different ways. First off, flat-white is reference to a coffee-heavy variation on the latte, one of those in-the-know shibboleths that makes grabbing a cup o’ joe a minefield.
Secondly, it calls to mind Apples and iPhones, a trip through Ikea, a spin through Instagram, or few minutes wasted comparing fast fashion options on Everlane or H&M or a thousand other websites that dispense with design in pursuit of inoffensive minimalism.
There might be a racial element as well. Despite the rainbow-flagged tokenism on full display, the flat-white aesthetic is Scandinavian at root, euro-centric to the core. I’m not big on racial-theory reductionism, but it’s something to think about.
And then there’s the plain-English reading: It’s flat. It’s white. No zing. No zest. It’s boring.
The article, which is worth a read if you can get past the paywall, begins with this anecdote:
Hairport, a barbershop, could be anywhere in the world. A smart logo on its doors shows a pirate in a tricorn, flanked by crossbone-style scissors. Giant photos of tattooed and bearded hipsters cover its walls. Two stylists trim the beards of jeans-clad customers. The owner, Ahmed Zia, a 31-year-old who founded the place in 2018, explains the logo, which he designed himself. “I was a fan of ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’,” he says, “I like the idea of a team of pirates.” Hence the crossbones-style theme. He settled on the name because it sounds like “airport” —- a portal to the rest of the world. What makes Hairport striking is its location: in Kabul, the embattled capital of Afghanistan.
To borrow a phrase, when everyone’s hip, is anyone really cool at all?
I don’t know the answer to that. Growing up, the squares still ruled the roost. The avant-garde provided a key function in society — they certainly drove the conversation — but every parent prayed their kids wouldn’t get too enamored, hoped that the weird hair or art major thing was just phase, that they’d get it out of their system and get back to normalcy some day.
But last week I walked into a country club-attached bistro serving IPAs to the sound of Supergrass. I’m glad the golfers have good taste, but is teeing up now taking a swing for the revolution?
So as a designer, I’m left at a crossroads. While life’s gotten much simpler — every new website is clean and crisp and is leveraged off the same industry standard templates — the fun’s been flitted away with every new efficiency.
Cool’s gone corporate. And I guess that means that the hipsters have won. Funny though, I don’t feel like a winner. Despite my boots and denim and freelance creative-class lifestyle, I’ve got this nagging hunch that I never was a hipster after all.
Know what? I’m feeling fine.
