the sad hipsters

Girls that want to look like Audrey Hepburn instead of themselves, that dress in some other people’s old clothes as if they are trying to inhabit other worlds instead of their own and guys that wear grandpa pullovers, perfectly orchestrated messy haircuts and talk casually about fascism over their vegan lunch; there is something that makes me sad about this generation whose constant quest for uniqueness becomes their uniformity. Love to them is an aesthetic affair, like finding the perfect vintage bauhaus chair in a thrift store, love at first sight, love based on sight.

Every single frame of Les Amours Imaginaires has the narcissistic beauty of the thousands of pictures posted on flickr everyday, by people documenting their stylized selves and lives, it’s like a movie based on Hedi Slimane‘s photos. I’ve almost quit watching after 15 minutes. Another take on the threesome cliche, I thought. And it is that, too. But to me this was a film about the beauty of surfaces, the sadness of a generation of superficial hedonists that can only express themselves by a simulacrum of the past that is devoid of any signification; just beauty for beauty’s sake. Oscar Wilde would probably fit right in with this crowd.

A boy and a girl that are friends fall for the same boy. Its a visual love from the beginning and it stays so. The object of their love is like a painting that grips them and they have to have. He is the archetypal prototype of androgynous beauty, bearing a striking resemblance to the beautiful boy from Death in Venice.  I think I might be reading too much into it and the film might in the end be just as superficial as its beauty. It could be like one of those fashion photo editorials that play a bit with something serious and for a second they make you think and forget that in the end their only purpose is to suck you into that beauty, make you want to posses some of it by buying stuff. It also brings to mind the nouvelle vague cinema with the very important difference that those where rebells that were accidentally chic and these are characters that live entirely through the chic that they surround themselves with.



  1. Oh, fiction addiction, you know me so well :)) I’m kidding but sadly I do find myself in this grimly realistic portrayal of hipsters. The more we [people] try to stand apart, the more we look like each other in the end.

    Actually, I just dropped by to say how lovely your work here is. Cheers,


    1. Thank you for your kind comment. I too identify with some of the features of the hipsters, but I’m mostly just flattering myself because I’ve actually never been even remotely cool enough to call myself one 😛


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