So upon arrival, I scoured the room for a girl in a tight striped T-shirt and a boy in a tighter grandfatherly sweater and "geeky glasses," "clunky shoes," and a "vintage" T-shirt (all very emo, according to the magazine). Really, kids like that do exist--I've seen them at many a show. But not tonight. Surprisingly, the crowd looked especially young and almost pop-punk--much like a Blink-182 crowd would look. Strange. So instead of rolling with my genius plan, I changed it up and found two kids with subtle style who appeared to have a good sense of humor.
Eighteen-year-old Algernon and 19-year-old Rubie laughed as soon as I showed them the magazine.
"I think that's really funny," smiled Rubie.
"I feel kind of exploited, you know?" Algernon laughed. "They're taking my image and plastering it on billboards."
Because the two weren't armed to the teeth with the magazine's emo uniform, I asked if they even considered themselves emo. Neither of them did.
"Other people call me emo sometimes, but I get all huffy and cry when they say it," joked Algernon. "It's kind of an offensive word. It's just an easy joke, like, 'Ha, look at the emo kid--he's so sad. Why's he crying all the time?'"
"Let's go kick him!" exclaimed Rubie.
The two continued to laugh when I asked them about the national attention the new "trend" has gotten (i.e., coverage by Time magazine, the Los Angeles Times, and Seventeen).
"It's no big deal," said Rubie. "It's just stupid, like any other trend. It's just clothing with music; it's just pointless."
"Wait, does this mean emo's not cool anymore?" questioned Algernon. "I'm screwed." MEGAN SELING
