In a new segment spearheaded by myself, the where abouts of hipsters in your local area is being highlighted so that you may dress to impress and head down to said territories and get deck. That being said, the first principality in this segment is Davis Sqaure in Somerville Massachusetts. This past friday I stepped off the Davis Sqaure T stop and while heading towards my interview, I found myself in a world unlike any other I had ever inhabited. The first thing one notices about Davis Sqaure is how it feels like you're really 30 odd years in the past based on the size, shape and decor of the buildings. As I sauntered down the street I noticed a multitude of coffee shops all in a half block radius of each other. The most inviting was a local shop by the name of "Diesel Cafe" populated with hard-cover book toting post-adolescents with one of the following; unkempt facial hair, Buddy Holly glasses, flannel shirts, shoes without socks and custom made shorts. In addition there was a gaggle of young ladies with their yoga mats in tote, advertising to everyone that they like to exercise. The interior of the cafe was decorated with ornaments that had no real business being wall decorations in a cafe, making it even more deck. It must be noted that this was the first cafe I had even been to with pool tables in the middle, two to be exact with red felt instead of the traditional green.
With time remaining until my interview, I decided to sample some of the local fare. With my diet restricted to mostly non-solid food I ordered a summer squash soup and a cup of joe. Let me just say this, the soup was neither here nor there, but the coffee was the strongest I have ever tasted. It took me about a half hour to down the 16 oz. cup and it made me wonder how these hipsters get such little done with so much caffine circulating through their system. The prices were less than flattering, but in a place such as this, one pays for atmosphere. Regardless, I had an nice visit to the area and became more self aware to where all the hipsters were hiding in my fair city. Until next time, caio.
Let me be the first to say that the Spanish in the title is in no way correct and is due to my own error. I guess my Spanish Minor was money well spent.
ReplyDeleteI was going to ask you what you meant by where are the hep shoes, but then I thought, "Surely, the Spanish minor must know what he's talking about" and assumed my spanish was incorrect. Also, it would have been zapatos with an a, and it should be estan, c'mon bro, step up your game.
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ReplyDeleteYeah that feels good, rubbing salt on the wound like that.
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