Business in the front, party in the back

This morning, on my way to work, I was sitting on te bus and staring blankly out the window onto 57th Street. Soooooo tired. But lo! Do mine eyes deceive me? A good looking, late 20's gentleman, dressed relatively nicely (khaki jacket, pants that are a bit too tight, but not in an ironic way, and a woolen scarf wrapped thrice around his neck, which I simply can't overlook) with, quite possibly, the most glorious mullet I have ever seen. The top was moussed to perfection, and the back, so straight that it seemed it was straight-ironed, flowing to halfway down his back. On his shoulders he carried a simple black murse, and a shoulder bag...with mickey mouse on it.

Now, I thought to myself, is it possible that this young man's style is ironic? Is he a hipster? I like to think of myself as somewhat of an expert on hipsters. There were several arguments against his hipsterdom, however. First, he was spotted on W 57th Street, well outside of hipster territory (usually below 14th street). Secondly, he wore his hair and outfit entirely without irony. Is it possible that I have discovered a new species of hipster? If so, I think I shall call it Princessa Pious Hipsterus. Characterized by its unironic, but socially awkward and somewhat androgenous clothing and accessories, and its retro, yet historically accurate - indeed, perfected - hairstyle, and its willingness to explore and settle within new territory, the Princessa Pious Hipsterus will for certain shed new light on the evolution mechanism deep within he ironic brain. I shall have to search out more examples of this strange new species and perhaps even write a scientific paper on it, cataloging its social, familial and hunting habits.

Dude, I'm like Darwin.