When You Ask About Their Outfit
Darwin’s theory of sexual selection states that an ostensibly maladaptive trait, a handicap such as a big honking peacock tail, is actually adaptive in that it signals to mates a specimen of exceptional quality. Indeed, because the peacock devoted so many resources to growing such useless and even cumbersome plumage, the theory goes, he who has the biggest feather-fan must be pretty goddamn hardy.
A similar principle is at work in hipster’s selection of attire. Take a reasonably attractive woman and add a hideous pair of oversize grandpa glasses. Still pretty? OK, now throw on a slightly tattered dress shaped like a muslin garbage bag. Still looking good? Toss in some Daria-like boots that appear to be solely designed to make legs look like tree stumps. Plop on an ill-fitting sunhat for good measure. Not cringing yet? Then she must’ve been pretty fucking pretty to begin with.
Like most evolutionary forces, this motivation runs entirely under any given hipster’s consciousness. Therefore, actually questioning an item or items adorning said hipster’s body will short circuit more than a few American Spirits-shriveled brain cells. The h-kid will likely turn it into an opportunity to rue your bad personal taste, responding with a glare and an empathic, “Because it’s cool.” The implication, of course, is that you know nothing of the topic.
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