The Perfect Hipster Accessory - 22



You've got the sexy, shaggy, unkempt greasy-but-not-too-gross hair.
You've got flawless skin so pale that you glow in the dark. You've got
the ironic vintage shirt, the shabby corduroy blazer and the chic
designer jeans. You've got the carefully beat-up Chucks. You've got a
two room walk-up in Williamsburg which you share with a highly-strung
actor, a struggling writer, a freegan and a docile, hairy guy in a
poncho who grows weed under the kitchen sink. To top it all off,
you've got your own up-and-coming post-punk band. You're almost
perfect. But wait a minute. You're missing something:

The ethnic girlfriend.

Yes, you've got the look down but, as we ALL know, nothing's complete
without accessories. You without a ethnic girlfriend is like a
messenger bag without thousands of buttons proclaiming your political
leanings and your extensive knowledge of music.

Well luckily for you, here I am. Your very own, personal, cute,
non-threatening, little Asian. What better way to piss off your
wealthy blue-blood Greenwich-Hamptons family, without pushing the
line, than to date a shy, quiet, non-threatening Asian chick? Yellow's
close enough to white, anyway. After all, you wouldn't want your
parents to cut you off from your monthly allowance - you might have to
get a job and give up your dreams of being a rock star. Anyway, you
majored in English and Music at NYU, and teaching's not really your
thing.

Also, you really need somebody to drape your arm around after your
show, to hand you a beer as soon as you come off stage and to tell you
just how good you were. You were SO good. Yes, someone who will
complement your style without overshadowing you. Want to coordinate
outfits? I've got a vintage crocheted minidress that would look so
good with your tweed jacket.

I can be anything you want, baby. Want me to wear only black and
white, sneer and blow smoke into people's eyes? I can do that. Want me
to dress like I smoked a bowl of ice and then hitched a ride with
Marty McFly in the Delorean? I got you covered. Want me to impress
your snotty friends with my extensive vocabulary and vast knowledge of
International Relations? I'll read-up on my current events just for
you, even though I hide copies of Star magazine in my copy of the
Voice. After all, I did go to an elite boarding school and then
art-school, where I majored in graphic design.

If I hadn't, would I be the well-dressed, cooler-than-thou hipster I am today?

Also, I'm stick-thin, fashionably bisexual and smoke bidis. I am
publicly a socialist but am secretly a rampant materialist. Do you
think I actually go to Sal-Val for these ironic shirts? Please. I shop
exclusively at Andy's Cheepee's, Cheapjack's and Screaming Mimi's. So
what if I have to pay the finder's fee? It's not like I don't have a
trust-fund, anyway. I just wait tables at the vegan restaurant to look
like I'm slumming it. I don't actually need the money.

So. You need to have me hanging like a wristband off your lanky arm
and you know it. Please, bassists and drummers only - and send a
picture. I only pretend I'm not shallow.


(this is in or around Probably the L train)