Hanging with the Hipsters

It's not every day that I'm invited to attend gallery openings so when my housemate proposed that we head over to Galerie Lena Bruening last night to drink beer and mingle with artistic types (oh yeah and see some art), I jumped at the chance. Knowing next to nothing about art, I was delighted just to go along for the ride and hopefully see a bit more of the city by night.

My housemate changed his jacket three times before we left the house, which should probably have been my cue to slip into something a little more chic but instead I pulled on a pair of dilapidated-looking boots and scurried out the door. We were a fashionable 20 minutes late to meet my housemate's friends, thanks to the last minute wardrobe changes. Like my housemate, his friends were sleekly attired in button down over coats, well-fitted jeans and leather shoes. I wondered if the fact that I was Australian gave me enough cultural capital to make up for the dowdy boots and over-stretched black supre jeans, or whether perhaps my look could at least be mistaken for bohemian. 

Arriving at the gallery, a shopfront in trendy Prenzlauer Berg, we squeezed past a young crowd swigging Becks and nearly trampled on the art which was variously arranged on the floor. "Nicht auftreten Amy!" exclaimed my housemate as I teetered dangerously close to a sculpture which the group proclaimed looked like a nuclear reactor. The four of us gathered around a piece consisting of three gold boxes on the floor with pieces cut out of them (this is why I will never be an art critic) and had a heated discussion about the recent resignation/dismissal of the German defence minister Karl-Theodor zu Guettenberg who was busted for plagiarising in his PhD. A little overwhelmed by everything, I adopted my Tennis Match Look, swivelling my head towards whoever was talking as if watching a game of tennis. Remaining planted to the floor in that trendy crowd for over half an hour, I was torn between bemusement and wishing I'd dressed more appropriately for the occasion.

The others being rather unimpressed with the exhibition, we didn't stick around for the beer. I grabbed a brochure on the way out which told me that the "small scale sculpture ranges from figurative to strict constructivism" - not particularly enlightening, but at least a tiny insight into the minimalist figures precariously balanced around the starkly lit room. The group headed home through Prenzlauer Berg, with my housemate stopping to point out some of the well-known streets: Kastanien Allee, Schoenhauser Strasse and making sure to let me know the "cool" squares and courtyards where the super trendy "hipsters" stretch their legs in the summer months. Here, apparently the rent prices are around 20% higher because the cafes are cooler and presumably hipsters are willing to pay for the postcode. To be honest, I'd rather pay less rent and live a mere two tram stops away from the hipsters, thanks.