I’ve had a pretty rough week, which included not sleeping on several nights. Which explains why I found myself at Starbucks this morning at 9:30, still in my leopard print pajamas.
The place was packed, with a line out the door. There he was, a few places in line in front of me, and I had a physical, visceral reaction.
Hipsters are not a rare sight in Nashville. In fact, I run into them more than I did in California. (And of course, they never admit to being hipsters). But in Bellevue, which is not the trendiest side of town, a hipster sighting is a semi-rare occurrence.
So there he was. Dark blue, raw denim jeans, with a folded cuff. Plaid shirt with a navy puffer vest. Vintage-looking boots that were probably new, and from L.L. Bean. And a beard. A glorious beard. I don’t know what came over me, but I just wanted to hug him.