Yeah, we know your type: beat-up cowboy boots, pink tights, vintage Balenciaga military coat shredded to look like you found it in a dumpster. You think just because you blew some rails off a Boyracer test pressing, you're hip? Think again. Unless you're reading Gothamist, NYHappenings, or Manicmess, you're just another poseur:
Even if you're hooked up enough to know that Interpol's having their after-party at the Dark Room, "there's always a secret after-party to the secret after-party that you're not invited to," says one downtown insider who - surprise! - asked not to be named.
"Unless you're in Paul from Interpol's living room and he's like, 'Can I go to bed now?' you haven't made it."
Hmm. Do you suppose this person asked not to be named because they just provided the dumbest fucking quote ever?