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Dude. I thought this particular brand of wackness was only indigenous to Los Angeles–where a schizophrenic homeless man a few years back inspired a line of clothing with the cringiest of names, “Crazy Robertson”–but apparently the U.S. does export some shit to China.
A mentally ill homeless man in Ningbo, Zhejiang Province, has become an instant fashion icon in his country after an amateur photog took his picture and posted it on the internet. He’s been nicknamed “Brother Sharp” and, according to China Daily, his “rugged style” is now being copied by the “pampered post-90s generation.”
The Chinese aren’t the only ones interested in Brother Sharp’s “style.” BlackBook had this to say about him in “Actual [my italics] Homeless Man Inspiring Fashion in China”:
Whether it’s the nonchalance, the layering, or the dabbling in women’s wear, homeless attire has become bizzarly [sic] enticing to hipster Millenials. After all, if there’s one thing fashion and hipsters both adore: it’s irony mixed with just a bit of shock and awe. Besides, isn’t homeless chic really just the epitome of inconspicuous shopping? Seems right up the alley of another exhausted reference: the recession.
Um, ewww, and, um, gross.
This story does have a silver lining, however. Because of the stir “Brother Sharp”–real name, Cheng Guorong–has created in China, he’s been reunited with his family, who lost touch with him back in 2003. Hopefully he’ll now get the care he needs, even if it’s at the expense–god forbid–of fashion.
Filed under: Brother Sharp, Cheng Guorong, Fashism, Fucked Up Shit, Hipsters, Homeless Man Becomes Fashion Icon in China, Homesters, Mentally Ill Homeless, Sharp Dressed Man, Stupid Fashion Trends, Weird Trends
I live in Echo Park, one of Los Angeles’ oldest neighborhoods, an east side locale that has enjoyed a colorful Old Hollywood history as well as endured notable cultural shifts over the last few decades. Once a place that housed more quinceañeras than dinner parties, more taco trucks than supermarkets, the place has quickly become a haven for hipsters eager to board three guitar players to a room and claim for themselves the streets of any place with the promise of imminent gentrification.
Anyone acquainted with me knows that I love quinceañeras and taco trucks, but can’t fucking stand the sight of a hipster. So it is with much dismay that I observe this awful transformasian.
The fact is, there are more hipsters than Dianas, and so my dismay is for shit. Instead, everywhere I turn are 90-lb. dudes in women’s skinny jeans that wake up at 3pm to occupy cafe real estate and drink coffee (free refills!) without ever brushing their teeth. Every kid looks like Slash (or like very thin, clean pirates). Every girl wears tights–tights with short-shorts and high tops, tights with pirate (more pirates!?) boots, tights with ugly vintage frocks, tights with neon wayfarers, tights with pleather belts, tights with pleated EVERYTHING. And they all just seem to sit around. All day long. Being. HIP.
To pass the sad time, I often play a wonderful game called “Hipster? Or Homeless?”(not yet televised, but I have this shit trademarked in case you try and beat me to the punch). At any given street corner, somebody with crackhead twitches, a filthy mustache, ratty hair, and a Members Only jacket could be either one–sadly, they’re usually the former. But when you really can’t tell, you’re at an impasse–the person is a Homester!
I thought this was the only joyful pastime to be gleaned from the presence of these french-pop-vinyl listening, American Apparel-layered, PBR-sucking vermin, but was proven wrong today when Jen introduced me to…
Dude. I just tried playing this outside my window and had a winning game in all of 49 seconds. It was rocktastic. Woot woot!
The only downside–uber-hot Asians are permanently included in this mix. Which means that because of some of you shaggy-haired assholes, WE’RE TOTALLY PART OF THE PROBLEM.