Hipster Photoshoot

April 25, 2007

There was a photo shoot outside my window the other day. It must've been a band doing promotional shots. Four or five guys huddled together, looking awkward and uncomfortable. They weren't particularly flashy, and they weren't projecting much personality, but what else could it have been? The photographer, a skinny guy with wild curly hair and sideburns, wearing black stovepipe jeans and black Chuck Taylors, had to stop what he was doing every few minutes to pull up his pants, which kept falling over his nearly nonexistent hips, revealing what appeared to be Aquaman Underoos.

"Deborah, come here, check this out."

Deborah wasn't wearing any clothes, so she didn't linger too long at the window, but watched for a bit.

"That is like the ultimate hipster scene right there," I said. "You've got the band, the artsy photographer, the skateboard, the banana-seat bike, the tattoos, a graffiti-strewn backdrop, a pair of shoes dangling from the powerlines—everything. Classic."

The photographer's assistant was a monochrome young girl with a mousy brown bowl cut, matching brown stretch pants, and a baggy beige sweatshirt. She was holding the light-stand, rather absentmindedly, as she flirted with a mop-top hobbledehoy on the banana seat bike. Another guy, either one of the band members or another hanger-on, skated back and forth on his skateboard in between setups. There were three girls off to the side, chatting to each other and not paying any attention.

"Are those the groupies?" Deborah said.

"Ha, no. They aren't interested enough to be groupies. They must be the girlfriends. Do you think they think the band is cool, or do you think they just tolerate it?"

"I don't know, I just hope they're better on stage than they are on the street."