Since it's an easy pack-bonding ritual for the vapid and less-attractive to deride the differently vapid, fit and moneyed, it's now advisable to affect a codified ugliness to dispel "cred"-diluting accusations of alpha-humanity.
If you're one of these smug imbeciles who think it's clever to have an "ironic" tattoo to parody people with "serious" tattoos then I suggest you consider the irony of the act of permanently, painfully and expensively branding yourself as a parodist of the trendy. You've allowed yourself to be visually defined only in relationship to the things you are opposed to. You follow a stylistic iconography as fickly trendy as high-street fashion. You are the prisoner who spits at the wardens while he whips himself unconscious.
In this new subculture so careful to avoid the subculture label, women identify themselves as anti-bimbos with chunky spectacles, tattoos, piercings, blue-black bangs and kittenish, figure-hugging thrift-store finds, while men are allowed to disguise their leering misogyny by fawning over women who believe that prurience is obviated by props. While it is considered seemly as one of the enlightened to sneer at women who dress up as cheerleaders (or simply strip naked) and spread their labia for male inspection, we are supposed to believe that dressing up as a burlesque performer, punk chick or "geek"-approved fictional character and spreading your labia is somehow "empowering" or "edgy".
Witness for instance the hipster-canonical blog BoingBoing's tenuous relationship with "enlightened" sexuality. Firstly, in Xeni Jardin's now-regretted embrace of the almost overpoweringly repulsive, chunky-spectacled Violet Blue - a relationship which ended in their eventual expunging of any record of her when she finally crossed the line from geek to gauche. Secondly, in poster Mark Frauenfelder's apparently well-received fixation with nubile young women in tight, ironically-screen-printed T-shirts playing ukuleles and singing beguilingly on YouTube.
Ladies, here's a clue for you: fuzz-headed, chunky-spectacled men saying "that's so cute!" is exactly the same as muscled, tanned gorillas saying "yo, I want to fuck that."
Human nature is universal, and our behaviours remain consistent in type if not degree. Surrounding yourself with like-minded apes only disguises your objectionable, base primate nature from people from people who believe the disguise works.
I have a proposition. I hate swaggering, muscled cocks as much as anyone, but I propose that we marshal them to perform random inspections of chunky spectacles. Upon discovering a fake lens, they are to snap the frames and administer a nose-breaking fist to the face. The we'll let the goths and metalheads slam their spiky boots into your torso as revenge until you bloodily cough up your boutique chai and spray your "hilarious" boxers with the faecal matter you pretend doesn't smell.