The scene is set at a party - or is it a hootinanny? - thrown by one of your old school friends who is attending the University of Sydney. You know what that means? Oh yes. There will be hipster socialisation.
(N.B. Although the majority of hipsters attend USyd, this is not the only place that they inhabit. In order to avoid this particular sub-set of the human race, you will find that their numbers proliferate in the arts facilities and shaded coffee areas to protect the pallid, waxy appearance of their skin from the nights they spend coked up at concerts for underground-bands-that-you've-probably-never-even-heard-about-in-your-life, buddy.)
An actual photograph of hipsters in their natural habitat from the dark recesses of your uni cafe. As you can see, one of the hipster women is preparing a photo that she will later post on Instagram, while the mustachio'd gentleman in the background begins to light his twelfth joint for the day.
So you've walked into your friends house and the first thing you're subjected to is three Rekorderlig-sipping, lens-less glasses wearing, Caucasian teenagers, discussing Kony 2012 and the ramifications it had on their bank accounts. They're looking up and down at your simple t-shirt/jeans combo with the Converses your mum bought you in 2006 during your My Chemical Romance-emo phase that secretly never ended. At this point, they're probably thinking "HA! Look at this maino. Doesn't he/she know that grunge was only back for three months on Tumblr? Seriously, I bet she doesn't even have a Tumblr! HA!" At this point, you should have entirely ignored them and entered the house. 
2006: When your knee-high Converses were the talk of the town (by "town", I mean Bebo).
Naturally, your first instinct is to greet the host. Unfortunately, the host has already begun to hump a douchebag wearing a New Jersey NFL Jersey - the height of hipster irony - on the kitchen table. Upon noticing this, you deviate your path to the drinks esky, expecting to knick someone's hard-earned liquidated Jesus. You hope for some spirits, maybe even a longneck... but all you can find is Rekorderlig. 
Rekorderlig: With six new flavours... now with 60% more pretention!
So, in order to resist the inevitable conversion to hipsterdom undergone when cider is consumed, you remain sober. It can't be aaaaaall bad, you think. Maybe I'm just going about this the wrong way. If I get up and dance for a bit, I could end up having fun.
Big mistake. Seriously, have you ever seen a hipster dance? If the answer is yes, you've probably just met a synthpop-hipster hybrid, who is probably just attempting to impersonate Grimes "ironically".
For this move, all you have to have is a basic understanding of backstroke and nonchalant expressions.
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