“I want to write a column about hipsters.”

Apparently, that statement was my first mistake. Finding a hipster to talk to is comparable to scoring an interview with Obama or Justin Bieber. It’s impossible.

I didn’t know that, of course, until Monday night rolled around. Facebook was hopping, so I began my search for sources.

“Help! Do you know any hipsters?” I typed shamelessly, scrolling through my list of Internet friends.

Teddy Lamb, junior in LAS, wondered why I was asking. I told him.

“Well, there’s your problem,” he wrote back. “’Cause the first rule of being hipster is that you hate other hipsters. Because true hipsters refuse to admit that they are hipsters and will ALWAYS tell you that they are not hipsters.”

If there was a hipster tongue twister, then that was it. Slowly, I picked apart Teddy’s sentences. If hipsters won’t admit to being hipsters, then how will I ever be able to talk to a hipster about hipsterism?

My quest for an answer started with a definition of the term. I first consulted Urban Dictionary, which defined hipsters as people who “value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence and witty banter.”

That was interesting, but the term was still a bit fuzzy to me. I decided to conduct my own little experiment — talk to people who I think might be hipsters about what they think about hipsters. Of course, like a true experimenter, I valued the debriefing. After each conversation, I planned on informing each suspected hipster about this column. Then that person could choose whether he or she would like to be included or not.

Noelle Africh, freshman in LAS, was my first participant in what I am now fondly referring to as “The Hipster Experiment.” A thrift-store addict, Noelle’s vintage fashion sense would definitely fit into the hipster category: black-rimmed glasses, bright red lipstick and bold outfit choices. In my opinion, she perfectly embodies hipsterism. Plus, she loves M83, Foster the People and other indie musicians.

“Honestly, I think that a lot of my interests coincide with the hipster image,” she told me. “But I don’t classify myself into one category.”

Well, apparently, I was wrong. Noelle may look like a hipster, but she sure doesn’t call herself one.

The same goes for Tyler Durgan, freshman in English, yet another suspected hipster. He wears flannel, drinks tea, watches Wes Anderson movies and sports the classic glasses. However, he doesn’t appreciate the self-obsessed hipsters.

“They wind up being very pretentious and exclusive, and I can’t jive with that,” he said. “I’ve developed this look that mirrors what people expect from hipsters.”

I was perplexed: So Tyler is not a self-proclaimed hipster, but he looks like one. How exactly does that work?

As it turns out, Teddy was right all along: A true hipster will never fully admit to being one. Nevertheless, those hipsters aren’t ashamed of the title.

It all comes down to confidence. Hipsters have it in a different way.

“It’s all about being yourself,” Noelle said. “And not being afraid to wear your neon tights and your grandma’s sequined vest to class.”

Melanie is a freshman in Media.