Meet Jaime Kimpo, the true identity of the notorious Die Hipster.
After months of sleuthing, we have finally tracked down the king of the anti-hipster movement, only to have found a queen, a hipster queen at that. I met up with the Die Hipster at her favorite cafe on 17th Avenue in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.
GP: So, wow, I’m a little bit in shock here. You appear to me as a young, creative, Brooklyn type. What many may call a hipster, is that a fair assessment?
Die Hipster: I’m not a f—ing hipster, I’m from New York.
GP: So only hipsters come from outside of New York?
DH: (smirk; eye roll)
GP: Ok, so you started writing the Die Hipster blog over six years ago. You must have been like 12 years old, how did you even know about hipsters and this lifestyle that you wrote so much against?
DH: I have four older brothers, one in IT, who helped me start it out. It really was started by my middle brother, Jimmy, but he didn’t enjoy the attention like I did. It was never about writing quality journalism anyways.
GP: I guess you’re right, now that I think about it, it was quite juvenile writing, but you really touched on some emotional issues and certainly hit some serious nerves with people. In September 2010, you wrote a post making fun of a “hipster” girl who got killed on her bike. You even went as far as saying that you looked forward to seeing her sister and mother also run over by a bus.
DH: That’s not a question.
I write this fully aware of the flak I’m going to get. But here it goes.
I read an article in Brooklyn Magazine the other day discussing whether hipsters and gentrification are ruining Brooklyn. I stand on both sides of the argument here. I’m not labeling myself a hipster. There’s more than enough evidence in my life to suggest that I certainly am not, but I do nevertheless fall under that umbrella of intellectual and creatively minded young people who enjoy a good artisinal roast every once in a while. And I’m definitely one of those more liberal arts types saddled with an enormous student debt sticker on my forehead.
Thus I moved to Brooklyn to cut my losses the best I could. But I moved to North Williamsburg, so I’m not exactly sure what good that did in the end. And having recently been the unsuspecting target of a hatefully anti-hipster website (over some pictures I took of a glow-in-the-dark kickball game…like really? Get over it.), I naturally began feeling pretty guilty whenever I walked down my street or whenever I worked my beat because of course I look nothing like the original culture of the neighborhood.
But now I wonder: Why am I guilty? I pay my rent. I take out my trash. I’m respectful to my neighbors and to members of my community. I have a great relationship with my landlords, who are among the first generations of Italian immigrants in Williamsburg. Why should I feel poorly for how I dress and for the things I like? Why is that at all marginalizing? Continue reading