Over the past few years the universe has been bombarding me with signs that I am just no longer cool. Even though I am a young(ish) mother raising my children in what many consider to be a very hip city, and I endeavor to expose the girls to San Francisco's rich culture of food, music, and the arts, in all honesty I fall short. While outfitted in my gym clothes, I watch the young twenty-somethings dressed in their freshly silk-screened ironic t-shirts and fedoras and think, "I should do that."
As for culture, I spend my afternoons chauffeuring the kids to various main-stream after-school activities in my Prius station wagon. Although I would love to remark, "Elana's harmonica teacher says that she has much raw talent," the girls have opted for gymnastics and ballet.
If my husband and I were to persuade the girls to try the latest over-priced, Korean-fusion, pop-up restaurant, we would simply be forced to leave within the first five minutes, when the kids discovered that the restaurant only offers rice, if it's topped with kimchi and Bulgogi. The children mostly subsist on an all-beige diet. They don't do foodie.
Sure, the hipsters and I do have a few things in common. For example, we both love Annie's mac n' cheese in the shape of Arthur. But alas, they buy it ironically. I buy it because the three-year-old will scream if I don't.
Ultimately, this morning the final rock was tossed that shattered my dreams of appearing "cool" to the outside world. After partaking in my weekly Body Combat class for middle-age mothers with sagging body parts, I stopped at the most recent trendy coffee shop to emerge in my surrounding neighborhoods. This shop is so fashionable that it operates out of a garage space in a warehouse district! I know, totally awesome!
After waiting in line for the other patrons to order their single-drip cups of coffee, I asked for a non-fat latte. The hipster barista looked at me in disdain over the counter made from reclaimed wood, then with a small smirk on his face, informed me that "We only do whole milk." Apparently arrogant espresso is in vogue! It took every ounce of self regulation not to tell that little, skinny-jeans clad hipster with his beard and felt cap to march his bike riding ass to the corner bodega and buy a 1/2 gallon of skim (and throw in a 6-pack of diet coke while he's at it).
So reality has set in, I'm only cool enough for Peet's and Starbucks.