It’s official: I’m a hipster. Or am I?
On Sunday, I was dubbed a hipster (yeah, I rolled my eyes) during an early-morning drive up to Windham Mountain. Why, you ask? Apparently I deserved this label because every morning I brew a pot of my own green tea with honey and pour it over ice in a Ball mason jar. I take the jar to work and have become known around the office to some as “the jar girl.” I’m OK with that. I did the same for the trip Sunday morning. Is that so weird?!
I probably possess some hipster-like tendencies, but I disagree with the label. I remember when I was getting ready to move to Brooklyn; my sister made it a point to say, “Just don’t become a hipster” — snarky undertones clearly evident. I think I’ve done a decent job to avoid getting sucked into the hipster trap.
But back to the green tea and the mason jars. I was introduced to the mason jar as a drinking glass by my roommate when I moved in. They’re cost-effective and serve multiple purposes. Since I don’t drink coffee, green tea (and other varieties) has become my morning-cup-of-joe equivalent. It’s also much cheaper to make it at home.
Does that really make me a hipster?