Irony Plus Sadness = ?

I think Urban Outfitters just topped the charts for scenester irony.  Their latest storefront in NYC is actually made up for four false storefronts (and by false I mean that they look like four different storefronts that all actually go into one huge UO, not that they have four fake storefronts with doors that don't actually open or where you walk into a tiny closet lit only by a single pair of red eyes with a deep, whispering voice of doom - although I kind of wish I did because, hello?  Clever move Urban Outfitters!  Now you'll only get the really dedicated shoppers.)


Apparently the idea is to be ironically reminiscent of the days when New York shopping actually involved going into more than one independently owned shop instead of a couple of giant chain stores (thanks H&M, Forever 21, and of course, Urban Outfitters for making clothes that almost look like they were made by a hip local designer except that they actually came from the all-too cliched factories in China and fall apart after a couple of wearings even though a t-shirt cost $40 - seriously guys?  $40 for a t-shirt with a faux-vintage looking picture flaking off the front?  Really?  And everyone else ones one?  Thanks a lot.)

Seriously, the faux indie-designer-ness of Urban Outfitters is generally both hilarious and sad.  A few years ago my friends and I went to the Sasquatch! Festival, which is pretty much the raddest music festival accessible by vehicle from Vancouver, and is overflowing with scenesters, hipsters, and any other assortment of "cool kid" you can find.  The types who will tout all the "support local" catch phrases and pride themselves in being super unique with their independent sense of style.  Around that same time one of my dear Lady Friends had gotten a job at Urban Outfitters.  We played a game called "Spot the Urban Outfitter" wherein every other girl who walked by (and about a third of the dudes) was wearing something from Urban Outfitters.

Real unique guys.

Check yourself before you wreck yourself.

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