The Book Club, Shoreditch

I felt like I was in a hipster film set.

Not a set up film set, I mean, in a documentary about hipsters? … as in, it was so real, it felt fake?

Just, space, wooden floors, with good looking creative types wearing cardigans and thick-rimmed glasses using their iDevices or playing ping pong (which is cool). Colours were all pretentiously pastel and everything was too polished, and lean… even down to the variety of beers, with a beer menu of about 12 beers that were in large font across an A4 piece of paper on a clipboard, with a similar wine list, and cocktail menu with an intriguing ‘Shoreditch twat’.

Still, it was nice. Fun. Cute. Cool… for a summer’s day.
Maybe I should write a blog post about it, I thought to myself.

But the problem with hating on hipster venues is that they *aim* for pretentious, so it’s just a low blow to say it’s *too* trendy, either it sounds ironic (and falls into their trap) or… I sound bitter (which falls into their trap).