Most of the time, when someone uses the word “hipster” to describe anyone who is not a beat poet or a jazz musician, I roll my eyes and assume that person is just catching up on fabricated news articles from 2003. They have a silly idea in their head of what a “hipster” is, and they are simultaneously turned on by, and envious of, those imaginary beings. Then I see a photo like this, and am forced to admit that the word in its modern sense might describe some people after all.

This guy has managed to cram two types of young urban hipness into one outfit: the ironic white trash look, and the suave, retro, “I work in a faux-speakeasy where we all wear suspenders and have tattoos and serve only the snobbiest $20 artisanal cocktails” look. Furthermore, the checkered Vans(?) provide a reminder of his suburban punk/ska/hardcore youth, as if to say, “look at me, living in the big city but keepin’ it real.” (They have punk shows in suburban Sweden, right?) I’m surprised his feet haven’t tried to fight his head yet.

Then again, maybe there’s an alternate explanation. Maybe he had to go harvest ingredients for all those artisanal cocktails, and that’s why he’s wearing overalls and sensible shoes. Maybe, just maybe, he’s about to go into work and change into a whole, cohesive outfit, and serve people delicious drinks in a full tuxedo without smirking at them for their inferior grasp of mixology. “Do you like gin? Allow me to make you something. If you don’t like it, it’s on me,” he will say, and his patrons will smile and tip him. He might be the nicest guy in the world, and we all might be super mean for picking on him.

Or of course, he could just be a sartorially challenged douchelaser with a penchant for postmodern pastiche. The world will never know.

(Photo via