Poor hipsters. The world over, they're mocked for their beards, their plaid shirts, their skinny jeans, their obsessions. But in Collingwood, Melbourne they have a secure refuge. All along Smith St you may find shops selling cult vinyl classics, atomic strength coffee and more vintage homeware than you can shake a stick at.
If there were a venn diagram showing where hipster interests and Lady Traveller interests collide, the intersection would be at the point of the curious collectable. HTLT, she loves a vintage map, a mid-century armchair, a 1960s kitchen implement ... and is incapable of passing a secondhand bookshop without going in.
On a Saturday morning recently, I went into a vintage emporium in Collingwood and had a lovely time poking around until I saw this:
What happened to not judging books by their covers? Books are not just for interior design - they need to be read! Cherished! Laughed at!
Since this doesn't quite meet the definition of hipster fail, I say (in the words of my primary school headmistress): hipsters, I'm disappointed in you.
On a Saturday morning recently, I went into a vintage emporium in Collingwood and had a lovely time poking around until I saw this:
What happened to not judging books by their covers? Books are not just for interior design - they need to be read! Cherished! Laughed at!
Since this doesn't quite meet the definition of hipster fail, I say (in the words of my primary school headmistress): hipsters, I'm disappointed in you.
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