WHITING: Adventures ? la indie: Diary of a wannabe hipster

Independence of the norm has become the norm and is thus no longer independent.

Still, it’s sometimes nice to eschew the over-played synthetic beats of Usher and Justin Bieber in favor of the more interestingly instrumental music played by obscure bands such as First Rate People and Winter Gloves.

So the other weekend I traded in the college basement scene in return for X’s on my hands in the basement of Cambridge’s Middle East Nightclub, joining the indie kids in appreciating unheard of tunes by un-famous musicians. But for having convened to relish in individuality, I couldn’t help but notice that I was, at least for the evening, fully steeped in the indie scene in which everyone dressed quite similarly despite the origins of the adjective that describes them.

There we were, rocking the same beanie hats, Keds sneakers, flannel shirts and Buddy Holly glasses, subjects of a highly commercialized fad of anti-commercialism.

I’m not very indie. I have a vintage camera but I’m too lazy to use it. I don’t play guitar. I’ve only read “On The Road” and “Howl” because I’m an English major. And though I’ve wholeheartedly embraced the flannel fashions of the indie/hipster culture, my doing so is purely functional. Flannel has been a Midwestern staple since Paul Bunyan pioneered the woodsy plain of Kelliher, Minn. It’s only recently been for sale on hangers at Urban Outfitters.

But everyone who’s anyone owns a flannel shirt now, if not from Buffalo Exchange then from a high-end retailer, and I thus fall stereotypically into the hipster category as I walk down the street listening to Bowerbirds’s “Northern Lights” with feet protected by Minnetonka Moccasins.

Indeed, hipster I am, though by definition hipster is the opposite of unique. All it requires is that a person follow the latest trends and fashions. And this I do with much ease. The “in” thing on the streets now is what I like to call Great Depression chic&-cut-off Levi shorts, ripped tights, wool sweaters from Ragstock. It’s one part green, one part cheap and one part vagabond, calling vintage and fashionable what was a few years ago just called used and old.

But it’s not just about fashion&-Indie is the de facto label for the subculture of idealistic and artsy youth who are more concerned with individuality than with social acceptance. It’s characterized by experimentalism, a “cooler than thou” attitude and an appreciation for the world beyond American pop culture. I like Ke$ha too much to ever be considered worthy of the term.

What’s ironic nowadays, though, is that the literately ironic T-shirts worn by the current, individualistic hipsters are made even more so due to the fact that their individual style is now being mass-marketed by American Apparel and Threadless.com.

We can’t be unique if we’re all wearing the same thing. The general endeavor toward authenticity has resulted in a loss of it&-hipsters all wear Ray Ban wayfarers and boat shoes and own cool collections of rare records. What was once the style of free-spirited individuals is now a distinct stigma of hipsterism&-counter-culture has become an accepted norm. And now my friends are throwing hipster-themed parties to which attendees wear exactly what I’ve already hinted at: lumberjack shirts, bandanas, big glasses and skinny jeans.

It’s like the hipster lifestyle of Brooklyn’s Williamsburg is as clich? a theme as cowboys and pirates. It’s just funny that we dress up like the coffee shop regulars, when the coffee shop regulars are just minding their own business frequenting used bookstores, funding the Salvation Army and observing the alternative art on the T signs.

I, however, appreciate it all. We’ve reached a period in which un-showered, un-styled hair is acceptable and oversized flannel and chipped nail polish are as much fashion statements as they are evidence of the inner slob. That’s awesome, because I regularly sport all of the above. While I continue to do nothing but stay warm and live on a budget, others are purposefully purchasing old flannel to fit into the prevalent way of dressing oneself. My frequently laissez-faire approach to my look is all the rage, which just means I get to take that much longer to grow up and actually put effort into my appearance.

Even so, I don’t understand why hipsters get so much ridicule when they’re just today’s equivalent of the flower children or any other generation of youth, for that matter. So what if independent fashions have now gained popularity? They have finally gotten their time. It’s still cool to be different, even if you aren’t really.

I’m just kidding. Uniqueness isn’t hard to come by in the city. But I’ll save that thought for another day.