The website Mashable published an article last week declaring the death of the hipster, and the rise of a new millennial class, playfully titled yuccies.
If you haven’t read it yet, it’s required reading. The moniker (coined by David Infante) riffs on the term “yuppie” to recognize a new breed of Young Urban Creatives.
Infante—self-proclaimed archetype of yuccies—describes them as:
“A slice of Generation Y, borne of suburban comfort, indoctrinated with the transcendent power of education, and infected by the conviction that not only do we deserve to pursue our dreams; we should profit from them.”
Profiting from creative work? Deplorable.
This includes social media managers, creators of #sponsored content, “brogrammers,” and boutique entrepreneur shills. In the eyes of Infante at least, these are personae non gratae; yet strangely, this also includes himself, a snooty writer in Brooklyn with an unwaxed mustache (his words).
Infante’s yuccie walks the streets of New York City and San Francisco, clicky web content oozing from their fingertips, grabbing low-hanging fruit like short gorillas.
In this day and age, everyone knows a yuccie—whether it’s Megan, who uses her college degree to sell hand-made jewelry online (see below), or Albert, who manages Sunny D’s Twitter account, or Manick, the CEO of a tech start-up creating a Tinder for shower curtains.
With any of these types, one can smell the privilege wafting on their breath, along with touches of gluten-free pita. Each displays the distinct attributes of yuccie scum.
A yuccie checklist
- Owns multiple Daft Punk records on vinyl
- Wants to travel even though they’re poor and useless
- Lived vicariously through a New York Times piece on boozy painting classes
- Knows a start-up CEO who worked at Goldman Sachs
- Is a nice, normal girl, but has a genital piercing
- Loves Pulp Fiction even though they’ve only seen it on TBS
- Subscribes to Mashable on a news aggregator app
- Has more Instagram followers than friends
Every single yuccie is precisely like this, according to Infante.
Sure, it may sound like a sweeping generalization, but I can corroborate that in my own social bubble of New York City, this is most definitely a widespread, generational trend that applies to a very niche group of a handful of people that I know personally.
I am a yuccie. And a yuccie is me.
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As a yuccie, the single driving force behind my career trajectory (and thus, everyone else’s) has been validation: the need to be told that my articles speak for an entire generation (thanks, Lena Dunham), and for everyone to experience life exactly as I do.
Writers like myself reek of despicable privilege for pursuing their dreams instead of something more lucrative. The same can be said for Kurt “Copywriting Shill” Vonnegut, Sylvia “Cry Me a River” Plath, and Ernest “Get a Desk Job, You Boozer” Hemingway—all of whom were really prototypical yuccies, Converse and all. Isn’t that yucky?
But wait, the lightning speed of the internet produced a stirring countermovement in the span of a week….
Enter: The Yuccster
“[Hipsterism] has gone mainstream. Hipster is generic.”
– David Infante
Culture is cyclical. Infante’s article received upwards of 180,000 social shares, meaning it’s essentially basic and uncool. Let’s face it, the yuccie had gone mainstream; yuccie is generic now. As such, a yuccster counterculture rises, made of individuals who emphatically reject the labels tacked on them by Infante’s article.
The yuccster is a particular breed of 20-something millennial froth that, like myself, either live in New York City, sport unwaxed pubic hair, wear socks, write a blog, order on Seamless, self-identify as “human,” or possess the sickening privilege of 9-5 jobs.
Yuccsters disgust me.
Yet at the same time, I am one. I’m a yuccster! One could even say that I personally represent the image of an entire generation, made up of an estimated 75.3 million people. I’ve met at least 10 people exactly like me, too.
Yuccsters all suck—but we also have the superhuman ability to project our lives on everyone else because we crave attention.
In our spare time, we write thinkpiece responses to thinkpiece articles. Unlike the yuccie, the yuccster doesn’t have the coddled privilege of viral sensations—they only crave the minimal impact of two Facebook likes and a retweet.
Sound niche to you? It’s not. After one week, the yuccie is dead and dreaded yuccsters are everywhere.
I know this because I am one. And that means you definitely, 100% are too.