Ed. note: A tip of the hat to the eternally swingin' Mr. Snevets for the inspiration.
Believe it or not, I used to be kind of... hip. I mean, I did college radio back when it meant something. I had six piercings in my ears (the 1987 equivalent of a tramp stamp). I went to illegal loft parties, wrote for an indie music zine in London and lived in Park Slope when it was still sort of edgy. Now, however, as I slide into my fifth decade on the planet, I've become decidedly — OK, let's just admit it — lame. The evidence:
1. I no longer pretend to like Sonic Youth. Sure, I've seen them half a dozen times, and in college I had a gigantic Sister poster above my dorm-room twin bed. But you know what? They're incredibly self-indulgent and I don't care for Kim's voice.
2. I use a 27-year-old musical group as a benchmark for what's cool. Mr. SZ suggests band-of-the-moment Animal Collective might be a better indicator of hipness. "You'd definitely hate them," he assures me.
3. I will go to shows only on weekends and/or if there's a place to sit. No more Tuesday night gigs at Irving Plaza for me. I'm too short to see the stage and I hate feeling exhausted the next day. Also: I use earplugs.
4. I wore pearls to work today. Really. I thought they looked good.
5. I have admitted in a public forum that I like ABBA. (More than once, evidently.)
6. I crochet. I knit, too, but crocheting sounds more wack.
7. I continue to use slang terms from the 1980s (like "wack"). When I want to be more trendy I say things like "bling" and "getting up in my grill."
8. I have no desire to live in — or really, even go to — Williamsburg.
9. I referenced a 1981 Devo song in the title of this post.