The invitation: One night only – we’re all hipsters, as we celebrate Charles’ 30th birthday. Yes, it’s a costume party: you must come hipsterized.
We will sneer at those who still like Death Cab. We will laugh at how lame Kanye looked once he stole our sunglasses like a year after we stopped wearing them. We’ll arrive on fixie bikes and leave the bar to drink PBR on the sidewalk because fuckin-a, right? We will fetishize the authentic, assassinate the uncool and ironically appreciate the PoMo.
Our facial hair will be resplendent, our flannel divine. And screw those posers who buy their shit at Urban Outfitters; dude, this is straight from the thrift store, because like I care what I look like, you know?
The location: Station Tavern, in the heart of hipster-lovin’ South Park.
The food: Burgers, fries, and tater tots. Come on, is there anything more hipster than tater tots?!
The dessert: Churros from the BEST place in Southern California, Churros El Tigre.
The costumes: Our friends hipstered it up! Lots of berets, dark-rimmed glasses, esoteric t-shirts, headbands, scruffy facial hair, flannel, and rainbows. Even Charlie got in on the action with a popped collar and askew hat. I’m not sure if the other patrons knew we had dressed up, or if we seamlessly blended into the hipster crowd. Either way, the party was a blast!
Happy birthday, babe!