Are you listening North 6th street? Joe Camel wants all you ‘modern day pioneers’ aggressively flaunting your ‘lighthearted angst and rebellion’ to know that lighting up a Williamsburg brand Camel cigarette (as opposed to the average Camel for the non hipsters) will give you some ‘serious street cred.’ Seriously. Oh, and that if you go register at the campaign’s website you can win some totally kickin’ corporate sponsored prizes. (Probably coupons to your favorite thrift shop and the phone number for a sassy-dressing vegan cocaine hookup who’s got a pierced trampstamp of a tipsy dromedary carousing down Kent Ave just above the anchor on her ass.)
If you’re not yet feeling both physically and mentally ill, listen to the painful press release straight from the camel’s mouth and, before you know it, you probably will:
“It’s about last call, a sloppy kiss goodbye and a solo saunter to a rock show in an abandoned building… It’s where a tree grows.”
Though some have joked that Camel wants to ‘give hipsters cancer’ – wishful thinking by any means – it’s far more likely that want to spread the washed-out cancerous overgrowth of hand-me-down plaid and Ray Bans that’s already long attached itself to the limbic system of Brooklyn, causing breathing pains as far east as East Bushwick. But if anything really could symbolically kill the cancer that is hipsterism once and for all this seems to be it.
What better and more ironic gravestone for this fanciful phenomenon from the oughties than such a frivolous half-assing of an ad campaign content with fatuously surveying all the symptoms of a careless cancer that, as if by accident, has finally so fully fattened itself on its own excrement that its host could no longer bear the burden of supporting it?
Doesn’t it feel all too fitting that just as the FDA has initiated plans to brand cigarettes packs with bloated corpses, Camel brand began doing what amounts to the same thing: this time with all the dead and equally bloated symbols of the cultural lack-of-movement that once comprised the secretly fashionable hipster scene in Brooklyn?
If the brand has any sense for poetic justice they’ll sell them at the new Duane Reade’s to capitalize on all the gentrifiers, or even worse: Middle Americans – the next wave set to tow all their trivial ressentiments and romanticisms into town just in time to long for those long forgotten days of idyllic Williamsburg Brooklyn… almost surely in the soon to be emerging form of the 140-character haiku poem.
But looking back on it, what is this article if not ironic? I guess hipsterdom is still alive and snortin’.