the coolest doctor EVER

Recently, we've had this Fellow (a doctor still in training - somewhere between a resident and an attending) shadowing my boss during his clinic hours. The Fellow is from the IVF department, and he's just trying to learn what a male infertility practice does. For the sake of argument, and because I don't want to keep calling him the Fellow, I am henceforth going to be calling him Dr. Cool.

Dr. Cool first came to visit last week. He showed up on time, like a good little doctor in training. He's relatively short, about 5'6", with black hair he's gelled into a faux-hawk. His tie was loose and the top button of his oxford shirt undone. He was wearing patent leather black shoes with pointy toes. And he had popped the collar of his lab coat. Oh, how he had popped the collar of his lab coat. Tell me, how much confidence would that inspire in you, a patient, when you are examined by a doctor who POPS HIS COLLAR?

Anyhoo, Dr. Cool came back today to visit with us again, and not only is he dressed similarily, but I caught a view of his socks. Black socks with NEON POKADOTS. Blue, yellow, green. All about an inch in diameter. Professional, no?

And what's his excuse? Does he have an excuse for dressing like a hipster, but without any sense of irony whatsoever? Apparently, the fact that he's French, from Paris, is his excuse. Apparently the young generation of doctors over there are all irony-lacking hipsters.

I wonder if being the chief of the department comes with a formal trucker-cap. Or Buddy Holly-style glasses.

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.