Image via Complex Original
By now we know the characteristics that define the archetypal "hypebeast." But in their never-ending, time-consuming quest to stay up on all trends, acquire all cops, and emulate Kanye at all costs, a hypebeast has little time to ever confront their mortality in the ceaseless journey for rare jawnz.
Fair hypebeast, it's a perplexing reality that we too often shun, but your life too, will one day come to an end. In order to prepare for this inevitable day, it's important to recognize the priorities and affairs that must be settled as one heads into the Great Beyond. One day, you too will be laying on your deathbed, doling out instructions to your fellow 'beast for him to write down (on Supreme stationary, obviously). These are The Dying Wishes of a Stereotypical Hypebeast, while hype springs eternal, all beasts must one day perish.
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"Sign for my last three 'signature required' eBay deliveries."
"You know, only the stuff I ordered since being in the hospital. I don't want my user rating to dip!"
"Save a spot in line in my honor for at least the next five releases."
"You know, like how old-timey bars always kept a stool open for a dearly departed patron."
"Hire Been Trill to DJ my wake."
"If it comes down to it, remind Virgil of that one time he liked one of my Instagrams."
"Make sure to enforce the funeral dress code."
"All-black everything. Your latest Jordan acquisitions or rare Yeezy model, 1 or 2. Sweatpants only acceptable if leather and cuffed."
"Put a hashtag on the headstone, bruh."
"Death is meaningless if I'm not the rvrest in the cemetery plot."
"Bury me in my natural state: Sitting in my lawn chair waiting on line for something wildly expensive."
"I want to be remembered as I spent my greatest days."
"Put a portable Wi-Fi router in my coffin in case there's no Internetz in heaven."
"And if there's no [Internet in] heaven for a G, please keep my online presence alive and trolling in the forums and tweets, ya dig?"
"I bequeath to my closest homie the codes to my insta-cop bots."
"Can't just give the info to any ol' bot thot who's gonna turn around and cop a bunch of shit just to resell."
"Please make sure to regularly adorn the gravesite with Supreme accessories."
"And while you're at it, drape the coffin in my box logo tee, nah mean?"
"Sell my entire wardrobe and cop yourself a pair of Red Octobers, fam."
"Continue the ultimate mission where I left off. Do whatever you can to acquire those Red Octobers, mang. The chill thing about this dying wave is it totally rationalizes selling off my entire wardrobe to cop, and since you held me down since we first rocked Air Pennys as young bucks I want you to prosper from my demise."
