When Your Money Isn’t Hip

“The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be.”

I stroll into a trendy, hipster-infested boutique, the kind where everything is curated to the nth degree and irony is layered on like a fine cheese. I’m here to spend two minutes of my busy day distracted and content. But the moment I step through the door, I can feel it. The air thickens with an almost tangible sense of disdain. The staff, all clad in obscurely tailored t-shirts and jeans that are too small or too large, give me a once-over that lasts all together too long.

It's clear. I’m not cool enough to be here. My money? Apparently, it’s no good in this temple of trendiness. Their silent looks scream “Yeah, we’re good,” dripping with sarcasm. “Jog on.” And I’m left there, clutching my would-be pride, feeling as welcome as a mime at a poetry reading.

Is this the state of retail now? Are we to be judged not by the content of our wallets but by the obscurity of our cultural references? My money, which is seemingly accepted everywhere else, is suddenly rendered worthless in the face of such cool indifference. It’s as though by merely existing in their space, I’m committing hate crimes.

So, I leave, dignity bruised but somewhat amused by the exchange. Because here’s the thing: true style isn’t about fitting into someone else’s mold. It’s about having the confidence to walk into any space, no matter how pretentious, and know your worth isn’t determined by the sneers of those who think they’re above you.