People, Places & Things

 
 
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Been spending most our lives, living in a Hipster’s Paradise.

Southwest Philly looks nothing like how I remember it being – the jurors still out on whether that’s a good thing or not.  It was only a few years ago (maybe seven years at the most) when that section of Philly, particularly around Baltimore Avenue, was the premier spot to buy weed (mainly because there wasn’t a shortage of supply).  Now the area has been gentrified into a young Hipsters’ paradise. Horn-rimmed glasses, flip-flops, baby t-shirts and tapered jeans on bikes are almost as prevalent as organic groceries, ethnic restaurants, hookah bars and funky little fringe art shops. At the center of this Hipster’s Mecca, is Clark Park, which is located between 43rd and 45th streets; Chester Avenue and Woodland Street, where on a typical summer night, you might find only the hippest of the hippiest engaged in barefoot, organic picnic in the park or shirtless romps of soccer (or football) with the nearby African immigrant community. You will also find tons of dogs because hipster LOVES dogs.

Hipsters also love progressive politics and social issues.  But not the domestic issues that exist further up the Avenue or mainstream political crap you find on CNN or MSNBC.  No, Hipsters are in tuned with more global issues, whether it be the Coup de tat in Honduras or the plight of the Mexican farm worker, Hipsters are all on it and all about it. That’s where the local chapter of the International Action Center comes in, which is a grassroots group of mostly old hippies, who still haven’t lost their drive for sticking it to The Man about U.S. wars abroad, racism and economic exploitation of workers here at home. Throughout the summer, the IAC will be offering movies in Clark Park with socially and political themes at a Hipster’s favorite price – free.

Last Friday, a good friend and I invaded this usual insular bunch to see the independent film Amreeka. Admittedly we stood out like sore thumbs with our penchants for wearing shoes and shaved armpits as well as my messy chain-restaurant taco salad from Qdoba. But the counter-culture congregation greeted us with open arms and didn’t even mind our brash gawking at the gender-bending older person with the pink bonnet and 2-inch heeled loafers.  And admittedly I rather enjoyed sitting out in the cool night air, watching a great movie, which makes you think, on an unsophisticated theatre screen, made out of a bed sheet and plumber’s pipe.   

Yes, there something bizarrely appealing about that Hipsters charm – whether I like to admit it or not.
 


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