The Hipster Formula
Bringing peeps to the monthly Thunderdome party:
Me: Hey, where you going? We're here. (Confusion) At the the Massosoit lodge right there. In the basement.
Friend: Massawhat, wtf is that? Basement? Are you serious?
Me: Yeah, dude. It's grimy like that. (Dubious)
After seeing the elk head on the wall and shelling out the $5 cover, they stop complaining because
the heeeat and beats . --.--.--.--.
eMANating from the dungeon
have crept framed by [adorable hipsters] and
their mortal instinct to be part of some(we)thing under
and decidedly fucking -- awesome --.
The place is grungy, sweltering and pushed to critical mass with gyrating bodies. I guess the hip-hoppers passed the booty shaking torch to the emo turned electro headz. There's no way you're going to get a drink quickly, not even elbows out. The dearth of 'bartenders' make the mobs of yellers all the more intimidating for the ones there. It's okay though, because while you're waiting there'll be a girl in metallic leggings pumping a pole at the front of one of the huge rooms, rocking to some British disco funk and some other chick on a platform on the second dancefoor in pink thigh highs, turquoise garters and a purple fucking tutu, circling her hips to Ginuwine's My Pony. And you aren't gonna say jack, because your mouth will be in a permasmile. Why? Because no matter how much of a hater you are, you can't deny the beautiful spectacle of masses uniting and letting loose.
I'd imagine droves of ankle or knee boots, tights and big sunglass wearing hipsters will ravage this veritable mecca of vintage shoes and purses that cover the entire perimeter of the store in color coded order once it's caught on. The clothing is worth a gander, neat era pieces mixed in. There are also several racks of clean, modern designs by the owner. Her eye is impeccable and it is apparent that she painstakingly selects each piece for quality and style. The downfall of that is it's reflected in the prices.
Like Yi-Hwa H and Doris K I organize my closet by color, but in retail size is definitely the way to go; fewer decisions to make if something is not my size. This place is by no means the chaos of most Salvation Army stores but expect to pay between $6 and $18 per article. There's no break on the household goods either; I bought three simple frames and spend $16 dollars.
The most laudable is their collection of baubles and jewelry. They get the overstock from Urban Outfitters and have a great selection of used and vintage jewelry which you'll get for a decimal point of most antique stores.
Straddling the line between dive bar and hipster hangout, Missouri Lounge's got an effortless "chill" vibe and all the makings of a good neighborhood joint. First clue is the bike rack out front. On a no man's stretch of San Pablo, the fact that people travel here as a destination place speaks volumes, and that they come on vintage bikes... well, let's just say we saw many a crushed PBR can and it took about .2 seconds to bum rolling papers.
Bar amenities are a-plenty: pool table, huge outdoor patio with heatlamps and a sweet-smelling BBQ, turntables with a random blaring of tunes. Add paintings that belonged in a hunting lodge, drop in some laid back folks and a five buck whiskey and beer boilermaker special or six buck tequila and Tecate, and it'll be a fine night all around.
Welcome to the grimy heart of hipsterdom where the PBR gets slammed in record time, Tecate is served out of a vending machine, and the music is so raw and salty, even mackerel sashimi is envious.
Throughout the ages, this building has been transformed many times, first from dairy creamery to recording studios graced by esteemed artists like James Brown and B.B. King, to Black Panther den in the '60s. (Thanks to Eric O for this background info!) The most current incarnation, a hazardous jumble of dilapidated rooms offering several stages and practice areas, a gallery space, and bar of randomness, is in itself a joy to navigate.
Add some ribcage-rattling noise (oh wait, that's music?), fur coats and leggings, boys with pants so tight it's a wonder they haven't cut off circulation to their balls, turntables on folding card tables, four foot tall Peaveys, unbalanced mics, empties that spread like moss on every surface, three decades of grime, and of course, a smoky dose of ennui, and you've got Ghost Town Gallery in all its bizarro glory.
What's that? You want five bucks to cover the band? For an experience such a departure from the norm, it's a guaranteed steal.
hmm this is a tough one, i am torn. the selection and quality of the merchandise in this store is fantastic, albeit exhorbitantly priced. the vintage wear is meticulously organized; if you know what you are looking for you can search multitudes of racks to find the perfect threads. who wants to pay $16.95 for an old t-shirt though?
Haight and Ashbury
To scrounge up a wham-bam totally bitchin' 80s outfit.
T-minus 29 minutes.
From our vantage point we could see Aardvarks, Crossroads, Held Over and Wasteland. A perfunctory gander of the nearest shop was fruitless. We wasted no time and marched onto Held Over.
Surveying the land, we saw meticulously organized rows designated by era, article and color. (So easy to browse, why aren't all vintage stores ordered this way?!) Our target was clear to see, and we moved in stealthily towards the racks of glimmering sequins. Like a honey bee to a flower (before getting all messed up from cell phone signals), like a bar fly to the Belvedere.
Purple jumpsuit, stop hiding. We see you! Shoulder pads to the sky. This mission was clearly in the bag, triumph was ours! The staff gives convincing advice, and if they can fool you, well then who really cares if they really know the sartorial differences between 50s and 60s, right?
When the hunt calls for a costume, you're looking for accessories to spruce up and funktify, or if your wardrobe needs a blast of the unique, add another dimension here.
there is always something (odd) to look at while eating/drinking/playing pool at fly. the walls have an interesting collection of paintings, mirrors and murals, even in the bathroom! happy hour is great: $4 sake cocktails and half-off killer pizzas. i like the "jimmy the greek." also, drink specials are featured on an impeccably written, colorful chalkboard. Tip: bring your own people along
To all my friends out there, and anyone else obligated to shower me with goodies, please procure all things to-be Ligaya here. There's awesome art books, from graffiti to design to illustration. T-shirts, plastic toys, wind up toys, prints, paintings and ALL of it is cute and/or cool. If we are in a ten block radius, "Ooh, ooh, can we, can we, please?" Plus their awning has the same robot graphic as my turntable case so it's really just a marriage meant to be.
The moment I enter this place the sighs start. First because of the wondrous lamps dangling from the ceiling, then the vintage glassware, chrome home gadgets galore, teak Danish made animals from the sixties, Herman Miller and Breuer furniture, Aalto votive holders - the greatest most interesting collection of wares for your abode.
I like the layout, that there's little aisles to wander but that there are few partitions so maximum neat stuffs are included my frame. I appreciate the easy-going staff. (Makes me much less likely to break something out of nervousness; I have that whole klutz in a museum problem.) And though it can be pricey don't let that deter you. I've been surprised by the affordability of some items and even the smallest or most basic purchase is special.
Weekends, never again.
Never before have I been groped with such nonchalance.
Drink God In Small Pieces, but ask em to go easy on the lime. They've gone a little nutz0rz with it the past few visits.
while locals objected the gentrification of central square, a few indispensable places took root. one of them was the enormous room. oddly, the place is not that big. i think they should have called it the enormous LIVING room/lounge of central kitchen (the restaurant below, owned by the same people). the theme of the place is middle eastern. share trays of tasty dishes with kabobs, hummus and other generic food from that area of the world paired with exotic (for boston) cocktails.
the dj is slightly removed from the lounge behind a brick wall and peers onto the dance floor through a gaping whole. most nights they play an diverse mix of funk, old hip-hop, trip-hop and house. very chill, especially if you have kicked off your shoes and are laying one of the raised platforms with masses of pillows.
unfortunately, when a place has it all its bound to become trendy. now thursday-sunday you have to wait in line and push through the crowd to find the very tiny bar at the front of the place. the waitresses are super nice but overwhelmed and literally have to climb on top of people to get to you. small groups only. almost FIVE STARS.... ah, ah...but no. too crowded, seats too rare (on weekends) and even though you might be tempted to dance cuz of the great dj, no space.
True to their advertisement, this place is a used/vintage department sized store. Though they do have a small section of new clothing, and mostly hideous, but sometimes cute cheap China made, colorful synthetic shoes. Can you tell I've been victim to a few pairs?
They've got a relatively large men's section filled with everyday wearable pieces and the makings of good costumes. The women have one room dedicated to used stuff, not unlike what you'd find at a regular Goodwill. And then the hipster mecca, the vintage area. It's divided into era which makes browsing trends interesting, but when you're looking for a type of piece (i.e. dress) one is forced to wander about the whole place.
Typically what happens to me because of the sheer enormity, is I look through one rack and then give up. I'm at the whim of the display people to guide my shopping experience. I agree that aside from the dollar a pound (which most of the time I won't root through cuz I hate grimy hands) it's not cheap, but there are some unique finds to be had for H&M prices.
great breakfast spot. if you go on a saturday or sunday morning you and multitudes of hipsters in the tapered jeans, vintage jackets and oversized sunglasses of the night before will be waiting outside for a table. the decor and staff are nice, funky and interesting. the food is good and home-cooked, but not drool worthy. tip: if you sit outside watch where the sun is
What's hotter than a man in uniform? A woman in uniform! Fulfill all your army fantasies here. The obliging staff will be happy/amused to help you out.
While you're at it wander the racks of various treasures and pick up some Converse all-stars, a canteen, nature survival guide (desert edition), paint gun, wine bag, tent and solar shower. Snag some glow in the dark pasties at Dorothy's across the street and you'll be all set for Burning Man.
Scoop up a winter parka, waterproof matches, sleeping tarp & bag, hardcore snow boots, three thick bladed knives and self-starting hand warmers and go track yeti.
Grab some fingerless gloves, sweet military pins/insignia, a sword, some steel toe kickers and add em to your regular get-up. Now you're just uber badass. Don't it feel good?Source for military gear, accessories and weapons. They carry some generic samurai swords, knives… En savoir plus
Girl stumbles towards the bar, hollering at her cohorts while navigating through the sea of plaid, "Whaddaya wanna drink, huhhhh?" The barkeeps ignore her flashed smiles shot from behind the row of stools for a good five minutes, so she snags a handful of peanuts from a nearby basket, spitting the shells to the floor.
Two shotgunned PBR tallboys down, she finds herself up pressed up against the wall under the watchful eye of stuffed nine-point whitetail as a sparkly-eyed, tattooed hipster searches for the bottom of her throat. No one notices, the band has just gone on, the mic attack has began.
She skips the $10 cover and retreats into the smoking room for whiskey and quiet, realizing she's outnumbered hungry, disaffected guy to lady 2:1, and proceeds to have a silly AsianPoses photo sesh with a gal pal. It's impossible to leave here not teetering.
She wakes up smelling like her hangover should be much, much worse.