Athens: Last refuge for the dislocated hip?
Well, somebody had to ask
They’re baa—ack! The hipsters! As the world slouches to a somewhat glummer version of what used to be called normalcy and transitory thangs like WFH and ‘digital nomadism’ fade faster than the acid-wash jeans you found whilst rummaging in your closet during your first lockdown, the age-old question has popped up again: world, world, you’re so small, where’s the hippest place of all?
If we can aver that New York left the title behind eons ago and Barcelona never really made it past wannabe, it actually doesn’t leave too much to pick from. Cartagena, maybe for a long weekend, and hipper than Havana. Paris was never much besides a museum set piece, though Americans keep falling for it (predictability is strong perfume to some), Tel Aviv had its moments (and I was only too happy to chronicle them) but has permanently priced itself out of the bobo zone while London’s much better now that Meghan’s gone but its urban iconography is just too familiar for it to ever really resolutely enter the hip zone.
The Acropolis is also emblazoned on the world’s consciousness but mentally subtract it from its teeming environs—just for an instant—and you have a vast and friendly monster of a city that is still mostly unchartered territory for the jaded jet-set: it’s a guy standing at a streetcar platform with a Spanish-speaking macaw on his shoulder; a villa-strewn hilltop with dizzying views of the Aegean; an empty museum you’ve never heard of and that’s got that one relic of ancient art that is as close as you’ll ever come to time travel; a sun-dappled neighborhood where anarchistas mingle with baristas and a new morning might bring with it a fresh pack of cigarettes as well as a new mural or two. Straddling as it does that undefinable city line between borderline toxic (the pollution! the noise!) and intoxicating (Greek gods and goddesses! Craft cocktails with Cycladic-island sourced ingredients!) is Athens now really the last refuge of the dislocated hip?
Definitely isos…that’s the Greek word for maybe. Though it may be easier to simply answer in the affirmative and then identify the new axes of Athenian hipsterdom. They are three: Psirri, Pagrati—about which we’ve already penned the requisite panegyric—and Kypseli. The first two can be considered as central Athenian neighborhoods, whereas Kypseli is a bit further from the center. As befits any neighborhood worthy of the moniker “hipster,” none of the three are particularly beautiful: you’ve got the Plaka for that.
Kypseli is so densely populated, in fact, that one is hard pressed to find its cooler quarters on its own: it can take a seasoned insider to cut through the thickets of frankly ugly polykatoikia apartment blocks to find the cooler spots, but once you do, there won’t be a selfie-snapping tourist in sight. Taxi recommended.
Psirri, on the other hand, is within shouting distance of the north slope of the Acropolis and the restaurant and cafe crowd does a brisk business with locals and visitors alike. It’s also street-art central, with some of the most vibrant renegade murals you’ll see anywhere in Europe. The nightlife scene here is noisy and young.
Less edgy but also more down-to-earth than its swanky cousin Kolonaki, Pagrati (also spelled Pangrati) is home to the Panathenaic Stadium and some very pretty streets behind it. The side closer to the famous Athens Hilton (now closed for renovations) is less impressive aesthetically but is home to some of the best, often quirky small restaurants in Athens. The Goulandris museum is the best new museum in Athens, with an open-secret courtyard restaurant that locals love.
Note: this is a developing story.