“Does this mean we’re cool?”
That was my wife’s question after reading a review — she couldn’t find the link afterward and neither could I — of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s “Fleabag” one-woman show that referred to the audience as “hipsters.”
Since we were going to see it at Soho Playhouse in New York, she wanted to know if that made us cool by proxy.
That is, of course, if you think hipsters are cool, and not (as we do) the living and now scientifically proven embodiment of “You laugh at me because I’m different. I laugh at you because you’re all the same.”
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