Being an enterprising lady, I decided to haul a bunch of old art books down to the local store. I need money more than I need pedestrian photography books. I also included some artist biographies, figuring that if you like the artist, you'll want to know more about them.
While the book guy took all my picture books, he declined to buy the biographies. I've worked in bookstores, so I pretty much know what to bring, depending on the store's demographic. So I questioned why he wasn't buying the bios.
"People around here don't read biographies," was his terse answer. Looking around at the slack-jawed fashion casualties feigning interest in books they'd never crack, all the while wondering if the hottie posing by poetry was noticing their outfit, I realized he was probably right. Except he could've left off "biographies" and his statement would've been just as valid.
As I was looking through Last Night's Party for a photo to illustrate this entry, I stumbled across this—hand's down the least-hot near-striptease I've ever seen. Just a reminder that hipsters should keep their clothes on.