The oncoming storm of Gulou hipsters

　　Less than six years ago, Beijing was stylishly unrestricted. Almost anywhere you went, it hardly mattered what you wore. Any effort to identify yourself as part of a crowd or express yourself through your looks was futile because nobody would notice.

If you hadn't given up your "original style" after three months in this city, you probably found yourself without a choice when the seasons changed and stores stopped stocking suitable clothes or accessories for your unique look.

Frustrating as this could be, it was also liberating. Beijing was in such a different dimension, that many of the societal pressures that Western laowai are used to, such as the fragmentation and stigma associated with "urban tribes," were suddenly and unexpectedly lifted.

With a few exceptions, everything was in tune; a very trendy live and let live. There was no frantic urge to belong or forcibly engrave your musical predilections into your dress sense and attitude in fear of being accused of lacking a personality. You belonged to the laowai, and the laowai, although some beg to disagree, belong to the human race.

This is how Beijing became an oasis for all those whose ideals were more profound, transcendental and went beyond the surface, and for those individuals who originally opposed the social obligation to assign themselves to a specific group.

More and more of these twenty-something idealists, many of them recent graduates of Chinese, decided to stay, not solely because of the brighter future that Beijing undeniably offered, but also for the liberating atmosphere it inspired.

Over two or three years, they introduced and solidified their values, chose this ultimate new place to be, and against the flow of their original convictions (many are still in denial), founded a new social stratum: the Gulou hipster.

Uninhibited by social constraints, and often armed with an excellent command of Chinese, they sport a wishy-washy-I-don't-give-a-damn look of beiges and browns, a helmet or mop haircut and lensless glasses or else a sadomasochistic-secretary-from-the-70s-look with prints and red lipstick. These hipsters now freely walk the streets of the capital and are gaining followers as we speak.

As much as this social trend might feel like a setback for many, especially for the very first arrivals of that generation, who believed in the essence of human beings lying beneath their appearance, the rise of the Gulou hipster undoubtedly reflects the coming of age of Beijing.

Like it or not, urban tribes are what big cities are made of, and we as citizens carry the stamp of our city. Fashion trends and street culture make a city come alive and give it character, and the Gulou hipsters, however much their unintentional superficiality repulses some hard-liners, are without a doubt bestowing Beijing with personality.

After all, Gulou hipsters are mostly kind at heart, lead a so-called bohemian lifestyle and support culture and the arts; what harm can they do but to open yet another Tapas bar?