By Grace Maher
At first, they seem like the coolest people you've ever met. You get this horrible sense of outcast, a feeling that no matter how hard you try, you could never amount to this absolute epitome of elite. Yet simultaneously, you get this gut-wrenching feeling like you have to TRY; you just have to infiltrate their circle and become one of them.
The evolution of these scenes has been happening for decades, with punk, goth, emo, hardcore, and this whole indie/hipster thing (I'm sure with many, many in between). I mean, how many genres of music are going to keep coming out? "Postmodern / thrash-core/ chill-wave." Does anyone know what the fuck that actually means? What is the difference between a group of teenage girls all dressing the same to 'fit in', and these clubs where in everyone aims to wear the same thing, weather it be vans and band shirts, or fedora hats and tacky Hawaiian tops? Do they realize dressing that way does not actually make them from Johnny Depp from Fear and Loathing? (Do they even know who Hunter S. Thompson is?) Do they realize skinny jeans and a Macbeth top doesn't actually make them a part of a band? When will people who don't actually need glasses stop buying Ray Bans with non-prescription lenses so that they look the part?
It's not until you've actually spent a couple nights in these clubs, and around these people, that you make this realization and have your epiphany: these kids are not so cool. These people are desperate, desperate to be well liked. They're desperate to feel like they're a part of something. You realize they're always smiling and laughing, but their jokes aren't that funny. You realize they all seem like best friends, but constantly have nothing but negative comments to make about one another. Ultimately they're all in a constant pissing contest to be the coolest one there. You realize they are just as pretentious, just as cliquey and petty as teenage girls, and on the inside that's pretty much exactly what they are. Apart from the clothes and the music, every 'scene' is more or less identical. The finest line divides a night well-spent from a waste of time.