I was in a Baltimore Starbucks killing time while the dealership got my daughter’s car ready, and in the comfy brown leather chair next to me lounged what I consider a quintessential hipster, also tapping away on an older (white!) MacBook. His hair was shaved on the side, with a Morrissey-inspired pompadour on the top of his blond head. He wore cutoff denim Goodwill-looking jeans, a v-neck t-shirt featuring the logo of what I assume was a band I’ve never heard of, and gray canvas Oxford-esque shoes. In addition to the requisite mustache, he had three tattoos that I could see: a nautical star on his elbow, deer antlers on his chest and an octopus on his hand.
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