Inspired by our recent purchase of matching Three Wolves Howling at the Moon t-shirts, Kellie and I embarked on an anthropological exploration of sorts – to study hipsters in their natural habitat – and, hopefully, re-connect with our younger, hipper counterparts via the shared cultural experience of good food and drink.

Modeling my Three Wolves Howling at the Moon T-Shirt

Of course, I allowed Kellie to be the lead investigator and cultural broker for this experiment, given her familiarity with the study site (South Philly) and her clear-cut uber-coolness, as evidenced by her hot-orange, vintage hunting jacket and low-top Chuck Taylors.

For those of you who don’t know, parts of South Philly have been undergoing a “hipster” renaissance of sorts.  Gone are the old-world days of green awnings, fake flowers, and Virgin Mary statues (well, that’s not completely true, as Kellie and I discovered during our brief walk through the neighborhood).

Neoclassical Architecture in the Heart of South Philly

Nowadays, you are more likely to experience its uncomfortable juxtaposition with skinny jeans, coffee shops, and post-modernist thought than the Mafioso that made South Philly notorious.  East Passyunk Ave. is the ultimate example of this renaissance and was the site for at least half of our jaunt into the somewhat unknown.

Kellie and I started out at 1601 at 10^th and Tasker – a cozy local pub offering updated versions of various comfort food classics.  I, of course, choose a PBR pounder as my drink of choice (I was trying to fit in with the locals, after all)

Pabst Blue Ribbon: Hipster Water

and went with the fish tacos, which were pretty disappointing and bland.  (note from Kellie – I’ve had the fish tacos twice before, and they’re usually quite tasty.)  Kellie tried to enjoy her Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado and Fried Tomato (BLAT) sandwich sans mayo; however, it came out with mayo and had to be sent back.  The delicious Parmesan pomme frittes and free stout for the mayo mix-up more than made up for these small missteps, though.  While Kellie and I dined, drank, and discussed socialism (again, we didn’t want to stick out too conspicuously), we studied the sociological mashing of old and new:  the weathered old man donning Nike and playing Megatouch; two hipsters waxing philosophical over “the nostalgia of analog recordings” (a direct quote); and, Nick Drake playing faintly in the background while March Madness dominated the flat screens over the bar.  As our own conversation devolved into more tawdry subjects (not to be shared here), so did the conversations of the natives.  (Did I really hear je ne sais quoi and the f-bomb in the same sentence?)   Seeing all there was to see, we decided to take our study to the next level and travel down the street to the what many would deem hipster Mecca right here in Philadelphia – Pub on Passyunk East aka “Pope.”  I learned quickly, though, never, ever to actually call it by its real name as that is as sure a social death as leprosy.

I was intimidated and nervous as we entered into the lair –  would I be fingered as an imposter?  A sell-out working for “the man” who is as removed from my “activist” days as Sarah Palin is from reality?  With Kellie by my side sipping on her “WTF” porter (even the beer names had the air of cool superiority) and a “G&T” in hand  (Gin and Tonic, folks…a required hipster drink), we settled into a dark corner and tried to blend into our surroundings.  Thankfully, those surroundings included a jukebox, which I was sure would be my redemption (one thing I know is good music) but even I was sad to learn that my musical lexicon was not nearly as eclectic as the jukebox offerings.  The best we could collectively muster was Metallica’s “Fade to Black”, some Al Green, Gang of Four, the Beach Boys and The Pixies, among others. (note from Kellie – the jukebox was a bit too sparse and indie, a dangerous combination.)

With our social experiment nearing it’s end and both of us still starving, Kellie and I decided to venture to the bright lights of cheesesteak row at 9^th and Passyunk.  Being Pat’s girls through and through (Geno’s is so 2000 and late), we chowed down on a “Wiz Wit,” Lady and the Tramp style, while enjoying the early-90’s musical stylings coming from the nearby South Philly Bar and Grill. (Rhythm is totally a dancer!)

A Wiz Wit: Heaven and a Heart-attack on a Roll

Ultimately, my quest to understand this often misunderstood species and enjoy some good food along the way re-awakened that little voice deep, down inside that whispers ”Damn, the Man!” and yearns for the day that little yuppy boys and girls can coexist peacefully with their hipster brethren.  Can I get an amen?!