Hipster Economics and the Politics of Place

  Walking a short stretch of Queen Street East today, I wondered where exactly we all fit in to this crazy world. How do all of these loosely woven threads come together to form the fabric of a city?

Within a block, I passed trendy restaurants, proudly puffing their chests boasting, “Leslieville” signs, while any number of homeless men passed me by, eyes boring through people as if to say, ” I know who you really are”.

It’s a strange, strange world, where I’m convinced that hipsters perpetuate their own livelihoods, reinforcing their own egos to the point that it’s like neighbourhoods have devolved into oompa-loompa economic viability and no one knows the value of a dollar any more.

High end stores bragging organic-sugar filled products (yah, folks, that’s still sugar), offer gourmet-organic-dog-biscuits at the door for substitute-child-pets. Just around the corner, a man pushing a grocery cart fingers a parking meter for change and stumbles on, south, toward the lake.

Myself, I wander in and out of shops, and witness all of this craziness of life happening around me.

Somehow we all fit; the owners of an over-valued detached home with an adorable over-sized garden gnome at the front entrance, the homeless guy in a toque who walks by me but just half-an-hour ago was in a wheelchair with his hat held out to beg for my change, the well-groomed-pure-bred dogs wagging their tails tied to firehydrants with over-priced leashes.

Off to a bar that boasts outstanding margaritas and a menu of Mexican/Asian food…who knew the twain should ever meet?

Yes, this is the world that we live in, and it works. For the most part it works.

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