When I attended U of T and wrote my three or four infamous articles for the school's The Varsity student newspaper, I found myself resentful towards the paper's then-editor, Tabassum Something-or-other. She worked for The Toronto Star and was no longer a current U of T student. I felt as though she had overstepped her bounds in an attempt to fully grasp a journalistic holier-than-thou attitude and could only do so by reigning over undergrad students trying to build some form of a writing portfolio.
However, after reading a poorly-informed piece in last week's Eye that grasps onto the organic hemp fabric coattails of a poorly-informed Adbusters article, I have found a far worse and far more self-aggrandizing editor-in-chic than Tabassum Something-or-other. If you would like this blog post to be more than a cynical rant about Chandler Levack's misinformed hypocrisy, please read her article "Our Party Photos Are Us" before continuing to trudge through my Klostermanesque ramblings.
Some background information on Ms. Levack: She is currently the Editor in Chief of The Varsity and a regular contributor for Eye Weekly. She has also written for Spin and interned at Toronto's other alt-weekly, NOW. Impressive (that was not sarcasm, really). Seeing as Levack is still an undergrad at U of T, I do not suggest that she is in any way overstepping her bounds as Editor of The Varsity as Something-or-other did. Furthermore, based on her resumé, Levack certainly is qualified for the position.
The tobacco-laden distaste that lingers is for Levack's lack of credibility. She attempts to write this article as a third-party--someone who is far removed from the hipster scene.
However, she gives herself away early on as someone who simply is not astute enough to latch onto alt-trends early enough to not look like a poser. It was during her high school days eons ago that Levack perused the Cobranake's site: "After all, it was Cobrasnake printouts of gritty art punks with tattoos, black eyes and killer layers that I took to my hairdresser at the end of my Burlington cul-de-sac in high school ('I want my hair to look like that')."
Yes, Levack certainly latches onto the central existential chicken-egg question of hipsterdom: do hipster photo blogs show hipsters as they are, how they wish to be seen, or determine how they are seen? Why don't we ask Douglas Haddow to answer this culturaly iconographic question? You know, the fellow who wrote that Adbusters article a couple of months ago that made vodka-Red Bull waves in the hipster community?
As I wrote on this very blog, Haddow does not follow through with any of the culturally-pressing issues he presents in his article. Furthermore, he only scratches the surface of hipsterdom and simply identifies the most obvious and recognizable trends. However, in comparison to Levack's "why can't I be cool?" diary entry of an article, Haddow's piece is cutting edge journalism.
I will answer Levack's alt-culturally pressing chicken-egg question quite succinctly: no one fucking cares. Further proving that Levack simply does not "get it" (fuck you, Mom) is the fact that the whole party photo, nipple slip, Justice, deep-V aesthetic of hipsterdom is dead. The Cobrasnake is dead. All of these have gone the way of the mainstream. Everyone knows Justice. Bro-dudes wear deep-Vs, showing off their shaved chests, while still calling me a fag. Cobrasnake parties used to always be at a less accessible, less well-known Parkdale location. Considering the last one was at Circa, a ridiculously overpriced, oversized, overly neon-lit, centrally located amusement park of a club is proof enough that the particular hipster aesthetic recognized by Haddow, Levack, and EVERY-FUCKING-ONE ELSE has been snorted down by those less inclined to latch onto alt-scenes because they actually wish to be a part of something that is in fact an alternative to the mainstream (otherwise known as 905ers and all of my U of T undergrad classmates).
Looking past the fact that Levack found an old Adbusters last week at her new age "doctor's" teepee office and managed to get a poor rewrite of Haddow's article published, she gives herself away as a complete hypocrite and diminishes any journalistic integrity she may have possessed. This is accomplished by her inclusion of a Cobrasnake photo of herself at the end of the article, where she is proudly sporting the "oversized geek frames sliding down (her) nose" that she described so dismissively as a trademark of the hipster uniform.
As Levack ends with yet another question, "I wonder if some 17-year-old version of me will add my photo to their desktop “Haircuts I Like” folder?" she further proves that she simply wishes to be a part of the hipster scene. Once more, I will answer another of her pressing questions: No. No one likes your shitty haircut.
The tobacco-laden distaste that lingers is for Levack's lack of credibility. She attempts to write this article as a third-party--someone who is far removed from the hipster scene.
However, she gives herself away early on as someone who simply is not astute enough to latch onto alt-trends early enough to not look like a poser. It was during her high school days eons ago that Levack perused the Cobranake's site: "After all, it was Cobrasnake printouts of gritty art punks with tattoos, black eyes and killer layers that I took to my hairdresser at the end of my Burlington cul-de-sac in high school ('I want my hair to look like that')."
Yes, Levack certainly latches onto the central existential chicken-egg question of hipsterdom: do hipster photo blogs show hipsters as they are, how they wish to be seen, or determine how they are seen? Why don't we ask Douglas Haddow to answer this culturaly iconographic question? You know, the fellow who wrote that Adbusters article a couple of months ago that made vodka-Red Bull waves in the hipster community?
As I wrote on this very blog, Haddow does not follow through with any of the culturally-pressing issues he presents in his article. Furthermore, he only scratches the surface of hipsterdom and simply identifies the most obvious and recognizable trends. However, in comparison to Levack's "why can't I be cool?" diary entry of an article, Haddow's piece is cutting edge journalism.
I will answer Levack's alt-culturally pressing chicken-egg question quite succinctly: no one fucking cares. Further proving that Levack simply does not "get it" (fuck you, Mom) is the fact that the whole party photo, nipple slip, Justice, deep-V aesthetic of hipsterdom is dead. The Cobrasnake is dead. All of these have gone the way of the mainstream. Everyone knows Justice. Bro-dudes wear deep-Vs, showing off their shaved chests, while still calling me a fag. Cobrasnake parties used to always be at a less accessible, less well-known Parkdale location. Considering the last one was at Circa, a ridiculously overpriced, oversized, overly neon-lit, centrally located amusement park of a club is proof enough that the particular hipster aesthetic recognized by Haddow, Levack, and EVERY-FUCKING-ONE ELSE has been snorted down by those less inclined to latch onto alt-scenes because they actually wish to be a part of something that is in fact an alternative to the mainstream (otherwise known as 905ers and all of my U of T undergrad classmates).
Looking past the fact that Levack found an old Adbusters last week at her new age "doctor's" teepee office and managed to get a poor rewrite of Haddow's article published, she gives herself away as a complete hypocrite and diminishes any journalistic integrity she may have possessed. This is accomplished by her inclusion of a Cobrasnake photo of herself at the end of the article, where she is proudly sporting the "oversized geek frames sliding down (her) nose" that she described so dismissively as a trademark of the hipster uniform.
As Levack ends with yet another question, "I wonder if some 17-year-old version of me will add my photo to their desktop “Haircuts I Like” folder?" she further proves that she simply wishes to be a part of the hipster scene. Once more, I will answer another of her pressing questions: No. No one likes your shitty haircut.
