I am currently in my #1 Providence coffeeshop, called White Electric. Called such because it was originally housed in the building which once housed an electric company called the White Electric Company. Instead of revamping the building they kept the outside sign which said “White Electric Co” and called it White Electric Coffee. It has since moved but has maintained its unique alternative hipster flair, and its name. It’s one of the few things that has so far remained untouched by looming gentification.
It is this place that allows me to maintain my accidental identity as a walking stereotype. Last night some of my housemates and I were discussing employment and the difficulty of finding it thereof, and one of them said, “What do all those hipsters that hang out at White Electric and Julian’s—” [a restaurant in the same part of town] “—all day do for work?!” Another housemate immediately looked at me expectedly. When I couldn’t answer he said, “What! You’re not a hipster?! My entire idea of you is that you’re a hipster, since the moment I met you!” His world seemed to crumble a bit.
I explained to him that not only was I a hipster from 2 years from now (long story), I haven’t been back in town long enough to know what they do.
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